Upon the air, the scent of tension floats in the little columns made by the likes of the leader, not any leader, but the one whose imposing figure makes one doubt whenever they are leading with the same person who always gives me the horse. I gaze at the solemn space where time crawls, like a slug walking under the burning sun with salt added on top. Little drops of sweat suffocate the soul and the clothes as I try to look for someone familiar, Tharja. I still haven't found her.
Mustafa looks down on every single one of us, baring his imponent visage. The head of a commander whose instructions will lead us both to life and death, but whose morals I barely know. No smiles nor regrets, only the towering figure that would make Alexander the Great blush.
The collective gulp in the air marks our first training, the seconds trickling down in slow motion. Damn shall be the time and be the earth. The stare of a general on an unprepared flock that may survive or succumb under its own weight crosses my mind incessantly, a little fantasy the mind creates to distract from the real problem. Huh, how much more pretentious can I get? To try to philosophy is to fail, there is no philosophy here, only the image of training.
"Attention, you all! You are here to serve our noble army. One made to fight against the very best of Ylisse. As Dark Mages, we are paramount to the success of Grima and its followers. So stand side by side brothers and sisters, we may be Orthodox or Messianic, but Naga and its foul kingdom run rampant, destroying our past, but the day to bring them to their knees has come. We shall punish them for what they did to us. Agrima."
The voice isn't from Mustafa, but rather from the man beside him. A hooded figure and of a spokesperson to the General, Mustafa, who glare threatens us with the promises of violence and ceaseless warfare rather than some trivial peace. Exasperated looks come from each one of the columns, as the mage looks at themselves in a futile attempt at relaxing the suffocating mood, the signs of the worst to come.
But underneath the quiet, chaos is being unleashed beyond the very existence of this army. The redheaded king, the maker of this spectacle and its sole enjoyer, watches from the top of the balcony, inspecting every single last one of us. His deranged smile is like that of a child looking at his toys, satisfied with himself.
"You are to train under Plegia and its army, to be loyal and to never betray it. The training shall begin." The brief speech resonates between our little waves and the tensions flare up, making bellies feel frozen and paranoia to be it's most delicate side effect. Where the best is Murphy's law and the worst only belongs to the ninth circle of hell.
The man fades away. Then a little man with white hair…
"Hi ya, I'm Henry! And I'm going to check if you are doing great or if your guts are spilling out from your corpse!"
Oh no, please no, stop this training from happening! This will turn into a mess in a matter of seconds! Who in their right mind would put Henry near the place of command? Don't tell me that his father is...? I really deserve this. I really do.
"It will be tons of fun! It may not look like it, but I have experience teaching about combat! So, everyone ready your intestines, we are going to train!
I gaze directly at the eyes of the white haired bastard when he talks about "teaching" experience. The guy probably will doom us before anything happens. And the collective stupors agree the desert just became chillier than the heavy winter in Ferox. The place becomes a purgatory where Henry rules with an iron fist with resolute and unfettered powers, making an escape from this an impossibility
The Crow man returns the cold look, with no emotion in his eyes, only an empty gaze and the smile of a killer , with the crows surrounding the place and crackling down at everyone.
"So everyone, we are going to make pairs and fight each other! We need to know if our fellows have the proper guts to stomach this upcoming war. After all, bodies don't grow on trees." Henry then goes to the crowd and starts selecting from the crowd.
"You and you. And you and him. And her and you. As such as the entrails sings." Each pair goes to a separate place, but not too far away.
Then he comes to me "Oh, Gabriel. Just when you appeared, the training began! And of course, you are going to need a partner! I don't know what you could be? Let me think," he says while touching his chin with his finger in a pensive manner, the smile still plastered on his damned face while I try not to crack under the hellish tension .
"Oh yeah. We already have the perfect person for you! Hey, Tharja! Didn't think that I saw you beforehand. Hahaha." The crackle increases into madness, a sadistic smile on his face as he takes in a moment of massive bliss.
Some other dark mages smile at his decision. The payback has come to consume me and Tharja, but he separates us before any comment can happen. Putting us far away from any pairs.
"Here you two. It's a very simple training! Your only objective is to fight each other until one falls. Understood? Good!" And Henry gets away from our ways while clicking to himself, treating the little moment to be more another joke, making little dances along the way.
Tharja and I keep staring at each other, the awkward air of yesterday still present. Despite our mutual attempt at gazing at each other, any eye contact is avoided. We don't make a single movement and stay like statues. We don't draw our tomes, nor vocalize anything. I messed up things, and this is my punishment, I really deserve this.
A whisper comes from her, "I'm sorry," and then she slowly reads her tome, giving me ample time to ready and read mine as well.
A dark cloud forms in front of her, getting bigger by the second and spreading like a dense mist, barely contained by Tharja's abilities, or so it seems. Meanwhile, I prepare my good old Flux. Um, dois, três. Like a Waltz. The energy comes flowing through my veins and spreads more than normal. The shocking sensation begins to cover my body without much resistance, while a purple mist circumvents my being. A mist from which I make some orbs out of, and then the battle begins.
With my orbs ready, I aim at Tharja's general direction, but in a way that could only barely hit her, and shoot it. But with the dexterity of a thief she avoids instantly. After that, I ready another orb, a little bit of the mist getting less thick by the second and shoot yet again.
But that doesn't hit either and desperation comes to me as the seconds get slower and my aim starts getting sloppier. Tharja's dark cloud is ready to be launched and before I can think of any ways to defend myself, I get hit by it.
I suck up the energy like a sponge, the electricity from beforehand disappearing as I try to maintain my body on its two feet, the world becoming more confusing and vertiginous, left and right mixing, the intestines getting scrambled up, and before long a thud invades my ears, the lungs getting less air as my legs and arms become motionless.
That is Tharja's power and I'm utterly hopeless against it. Two seconds pass, ten seconds pass, one minutes passes. Time gets thrown out of the window as nothing ever moves and everything becomes the same.
I try to lift myself up, trying to fight against the lack of energy in my body. My muscles cramp as I agonize every single second, the saliva coming out of my mouth like vomit. More and more seconds pass before I can get on my feet, but Tharja doesn't make any move and just stares at me while I can get ready. I remain indifferent to her pose, and try again to form flux again.
Um, dois… Três. The electricity fights against my body, any of Flux's conductivity left disappearing, becoming another opponent. Prickling me while I try to form the darn mist necessary to it. But before long Tharja conjures another cloud of Nosferatu, ready to unleash it against me.
She barely breaks any sweat, just as ready as before. Meanwhile holding on to my own feet has become an herculean task for me. Juggling the balance and my breathing to not fall on the hard ground as the same prickless fight with the sleepiness taking hold on me, the sweat covering me from top to bottom. What a hellish sensation.
I ready my Flux, as weak as ever against Tharja's dark cloud. I start aiming at her, but she launches her attack first. But before it can hit me again, I drop the orb and nullify the dark cloud.
I start closing my distance from Tharja, each step closer to the target, But before I can take any action, Tharja just punches me in the stomach and I fall on the ground hard as before. I'm still very weak. I can hear laughs coming from outside. I don't blame them, of course, who wouldn't laugh at such misery?
Little steps against the sand reverberate among the cackling noises that pierce my ears. Tharja approximates these insignificant steps which last as long as eternity allows it, a moving picture drawn by the damaged mind.
Although she still bares the face of a stranger, I wish for these little small seconds of pointless noises and rambles, there is a familiar face to it.
She grabs my hand and lifts me from the ground. What a small surprise.
"Are you fine?" Tharja quietly says, coming more as of whisper than anything else
I ponder on this question.
No "Yes," I say still as a rock, the air left hanging to soak the distance. There is no frown nor smile, just two friendly strangers in unfriendly terms. Henry comes out of nowhere, the white ghost whose bloodlust Gangrel wishes every soldier had.
"As I said to you before, your guts would be spilled. Damn, Gabriel. I never thought I would see you fail so hard at anything. No wonder Tharja here is the prodigy. She can keep the entrails alive while your carcass rots away." Henry speaks with the enthusiasm of an over energetic child who has received his Christmas toy.
"Ok," I keep my posture against the crow man. Henry keeps staring at me with a creepy smile accentuating his palish, ghoulish skin. His eyes betray his smile, as the kind twitch doesn't accompany the existing disharmony.
"You and this 'ok' word. Let's see if in the battlefield your guts can keep up with these words." What a venomous tone and what a phenomenal teacher! Yes, you are going to be the death of me. I ignore him and go to a sunny place
"Huh, huh. Gabriel. Wait, The vessel is here, checking the soldier, you can't just go away! Am I right, Tharja?" Henry nods to Tharja, who maintains a soft smile at the mention of the word 'Vessel'. I sigh. What a mess this will be. Before long, I am alone in the corner.
I seclude myself into my mind while I await this unexpected inspection. Is she here doing a genuine job or is it some kind of weird excuse to talk with me? If it was past me, it would be the former, the way easier and the mostre truthful one, or so I like to tell myself. But nowadays, either could be correct.
I hear upon the silent atmosphere of the place the wanderer question, the beginning of something, I guess.
"It's the Vessel! What could our most holy being ask from your humblest of servants?" Tharja asks with the happiness of an infant meeting her star and the humility of a butler. Who is this person? What stranger took Tharja's place?
"Do you know where Gabriel is?" Reflet says with a dry smile and the bare minimum of interest in the being in front of her. Tharja makes her biggest frown yet, as if all life force had just been taken away from her.
"Ugh, He is over there" She points at me with her head lowered in both reverence and failure.
With that out of the way, Reflet goes towards my way with a toothful smile, ignoring all the standerbys as well the guard behind her, all tallish people with covered faces who smell like rotten flesh..
"Hello Gab, was this training a little bit punishing for you?" A pensive Robin greets me.
"It was Henry's training. In other words, yes." I answer to her as usual.
"Sorry, but it was necessary." Reflet answers me back
"Wait, so you were the one who organized all of this?" A little bit of my stoicness breaks, my face now with a little bit of disbelief sprinkled on it.
"No, it was Gangrel's order. Very annoying. As the vessel I have to check on these numbnuts and their mess ups. Can't wait for this to end…" She says while slipping off to an annoyed face.
"I see. Oh well, don't you have to check on this numbnut?" I question the Vessel
"I forgot about that. Well, you have a lot of dirt on your face and clothes and you seem to be quite paler than you already were before. In other words, you have been hit by a Nosferatu " Reflet says with a cold, detached voice.
"So is this a medical analysis now?" I question her
"No, it's just that I didn't see your duel." Reflet says while rubbing her head sheepishly
"Guess who won?"
"The other person" Reflet answer coldly, with a hard snick with the mention of 'person'. "Who was this other person, Gab?" Grima's cold face emerges, the red eyes lacking any brightness and any semblance of a smile gone away with the face of death imprinted unto her.
"It depends, are you going to kill them?" I question
"I may or may not," Reflet answers immediately. without a single emotion.
"I'm not going to tell," I reply.
"So this person is important to you," She whispers and brings out a smile that may only bring doom. "I'm not going to kill this person, Gab." The smile doesn't catch her eyes, despite the toothful smile ear to ear. The eyes are the same as a lizard eating its prey, frozen and uncaring, the jaws becoming a presage of the worst that may happen. Or so it tries to tell me.
"It's better not to."
"What are you implying?"
"I'm not going to reveal it, nothing more and nothing less, Reflet" the answer makes her have a subtle pout
"Tell me alreaaaady. You know it's only a matter of time before I discover," Reflet tries with a little bit less threatening voice to convince me to allow her to kill tharja.
"Não. Não." I answer back and Reflet becomes flabbergasted before her face becomes serious again.
"I'm serious that I'm not going to kill it.'
Considering what I know of you and your past actions, a very resounding answer is: I don't think this will stop you, Reflet, Grima, Robin or whatever you want to be called.
"Still, no!" And for the first time in a while with her, I raise my voice.
"C'mon, just tell the name! It isn't that hard'' Any semblance of tenses dies a little bit along with her pout.
"You may be the Vessel, but I don't care" I reply, frowning at her.
"So you aren't going to obey the most holy being in this world?"
I'm atheist. You hold no power over here, Grima. "Não."
She gives up, raising her shoulders up while replying with an annoyed tone. "Ok, I admit defeat. You may keep that pathetic worm alive as of now, but it will pay for that!" she fumes
"Why do you care so much? It was only a spar."
"Don't you understand a single thing, Gabriel? It wasn't only a spar, you could have died."
With Tharja… yeah, she wouldn't kill me, right?
"Ok."
"Just ok? Why did I expect a different answer coming from you?"
"Don't know. Do you know?"
"Hmmph"
"Gabriel, stop annoying the Vessel." Tharja intervernes out of nowhere. "You must respect her sanctity" Oh just what we needed right now. I glare at her.
"Why are you interrupting our little report?" Grima spits back at her with her eyes still glued to me, refusing to notice the "inferior" creature.
"Reflet, she is the dark mage I work with. No need to mess with her."
"Hmmm. Hey, lady" An annoyed Tharja comes to gaze at her sanctity with hope, with a simple subtle reappearance in her face.
"Do you have any idea who hurt this man?" Reflet points at me, while the unmoving face of hatred upon her visage looks ready to burn the entire world if so necessary. I gulp at the moment, expecting the worst. A surprise look comes out from Tharja and quickly a frown swaps the happiness from her, while her head looks down on the ground, as if the biggest mistake of her life had happened. A few silent seconds pass between us.
"You were here before me. So who was the person who did it? Who. Was. It?" The tone always stays the same, a chilling voice that makes this unbearable summer the utmost freezing night of winter.
"It was me." Tharja's voice resonates through the low whispers as she sinks her head to make almost a kowtow into shame. Reflet grits her teeth with anger as she readies a punch, but before that can happen, I try to grab both of her arms with my hands. She struggles against me, and wins at every single aspect, almost breaking from my hold.
"What are you doing Gabriel? Can't you see I'm dealing a punishment?" She spits with her voice barely containing the anger, a vessel barely containing its content.
"Stop. Just stop. She wasn't the one responsible for our duel." She stops her punch from happening, but she just stares at me.
"I forgot, that idiot king order's. Goodbye Gabriel, there are some things that I have to deal with." The empty reply crossed through my body, there was nothing on her face, nothing. Just pure, meaningless unreaction, not a single drop of stoicism. Eye as empty as the darkest void and expression from the likes of which all dead people share all alike, nothingness. The vessel disappears amidst the mountain of creatures, the debacle coming to an end. I try to recompose myself from the tremors coming from my muscle, what an unpleasant memory.
I approach the unresponsive Tharja, gazing at her with pity. Whatever pain she must be suffering right now is way worse than emotional or physical- I have ever experienced. Mother is one thing, a god is another.
I try to get closer to Tharja, but before I can do it there is a harsh grating coming from her. With pure, unadulterated anger, the prodigy digs her claws into the shoulder of her foreigner.
"Why is she so keen on following you? I may not be the most loyal member of the messianic sect, but why you of all people? One that can't even quote a single line from our holy books!"
"Sorry Tharja. Truly sorry." I gaze down at the floor, while the guilt chips away at me.
"I don't understand! What could you have possibly done to be so close to her?!. You don't see her as a sacred being, but a normal person! This is wrong! And why did you stop her?!" She screams at me, her anger clear to the world to see.
"She would have killed you! One punch from her and you would bleed from your head." I answer back to her. Stop with your obsession with holiness.
"But the Vessel… She is the most holy being-"
Her voice cracks beneath the wrath of my next words.
"The vessel, the Vessel and the Vessel! Always the same speech: the Vessel. Don't you see what you are doing?" I question as I drop all restraints and scream at her.
"What are you talking about Gabriel? Of course she is the Vessel, the most holy being and our messiah, right?." She is trying to make herself sound certain, although the betrayal in her voice comes true as it begins to slip away from her control.
"Tharja, do you even know who Reflet is?"
Only silence remains, a final question to the coffin. Without any grace, Tharja leaves without answering. Leaving me with only the aftermath of the debacle.
Goddamit Gabriel, why did you screw things up so much? One step forward only to take one hundred steps backwards, but such is the nature of things, They only get worse.
"The training may be considered over. This glorious thrill will carry over into battle and defeat Grima's enemies without a single drop of sweat spent. But I shall not mingle any more of my words. For we have a special person, none other than the Vessel itself. Agrima"The man goes and here comes the laconic face of Reflet, no joy or anger held on it. Calculated steps with just slightly exagerated swagger, only an objective to be done and a speech to be made.
Half of the audience brims with happiness at the visage of the woman, a glorious mark of a golden ending in their eschatology, the future certain to come. But the other ones, oh, how awkward it must be. The creature whose foul name infects the like of Grima, the one who can't be resurrected, and the look of horror from what madness this Messianic backed king will bring and this "Vessel", may Grima save us, for nothing else can.
But as for me, their bitter notes sprangle through flow to flow. I become another face in the crowd, no smirk or tantalizing blink of recognition, only Reflet and her army. The mutual sentiment comes as reflections of the afternoon stab at my back, the guilt ever consuming, but only for Tharja. Oh poor Tharja, I have destroyed you.I'm sorry for doing something so was right all along. She is always right. Here I am, bringing other people down with my misery just like she said. Right now it's Tharja, who will be the next one?
"The war is coming, subjects of Grima. The Ylisseans bring their pathetic excuse for peace but ignore the way they destroyed the Plegia's legacy, the blood they spilled under Naga's name, the wretched god who keeps this world afloat for her sole gain. But the children of Plegia shall suffer no I am Grima, the vessel who shall bring this world to a new age, to lead this conflict and exterminate the Halidom from this place on earth. You are not only units capable of destroying the Exalt and her lackeys, but forebearers of the Grimleal and harbingers of righteousness and justice against the imbalance caused by the damned.
The fell star will recover this new sun for the twilight of Ylisse. The forgotten one shall be no more, for every facet of this world shall be devoured to reveal this hollow earth and his rebirth to come. The enlightenment of this new era. To Death. To Rebirth. To the Broken Sun. To the Created Moon. Agrima"
The resounding voice of the Vessel comes out in full, horror and joy intertwined. the vibrance of those will fall and the horror of those who will benefit, aren't they but a single part of the same coin, to forever be cursed into this new light? This war is coming, there is no way to stop it. But underneath it all, this isn't scary anymore, just another fact to list under a multitude of others. Reflet, why do you smile so brightly under your red eyes?
Silence vogues as some pray in both ways. Contempt giving away to fear and unwavering devotion, The orthodox and the messanic, two faces of the same coins? Who even cares about the distinction anymore? Everyone shall be claimed all the same. How do I wish I could laugh away as if it was nothing, as if the terror was only imaginary. But this is life, nightmares are reality and dreams aren't.
She leaves before long, and the crowd disperses into nothingness, leaving behind only some people. Namely me and Tharja.
We look at each other, both of us strangers and familiars. The dark mage and the foreigner. There isn't any frown, no emotion or commotion. Could this rift be healed, or did I destroy too much?
I gaze down at my feet, refusing at any moment to meet my master. What a disgrace I am, that I will always be. But before I can do anything, her steps move towards me, although a frown soon emerges on her face.
I am the one to break the silence.
"Tharja, what do you want?" I say it without any hint of emotion.
"I suppose I was a little bit harsh to you." Huh, Tharja acknowledging her mistake. Wait, no it's mine.
"No, you were clear. I destroyed your chances with the Vessel" I tell her with a cold voice.
"Gabriel, stop," she groans "I was a little bit in the wrong as well, interrupting what the Vessel was doing, trying to correct her righteousness. She chooses the way she must express herself."
"This was rather quick for you."
"Don't comment. She is still holy." Tharja retorts with all the venom she has. It wasn't very effective.
"To the point of almost trying to kill you? Huh, we have very different views of what holy means."
"You don't need to point out the obvious Gabriel."
Huh, always like that, but she is right anyways,
"Yes, I don't need , would you be honest with me right now?"
"What is it?"
This will hurt. "Are you sure you don't know anything about that dagger?"
Seconds pass away. A strong dejá vu repeats itself ad nauseam. A few gags coming from her before a guilty look appears on her face.
"No I don't. I don't." Tharja replies with sincerity.
"I see. I need to rest. Goodbye"
"Goodbye." And we go our merry way.
"We have a change of plans, person" The spy returns with idiocy and his plans. Goddammit, what does he want right now!?
"Then tell me, what is it?" I question him back, trying to suppress my anger. Damn him and his unforeseen plans leading to nowhere.
"Very simple, you are going to be called to do something, because we had some unexpected thing happened." The man says. I don't reply.
"Normally, the festival would be next week. This year, however, they decided to commemorate a little bit earlier than usual." can't the messianic respect even holy dates, how low they even got to accept this heresy." The man screams out.
"Ok, what do I do?" I question him back.
"Ah yes, you? You are going to wait until the day of the war council and then await further orders from me. That's it. Just wait until my orders arrive, understand?" I nod and a very ugly grin comes from him, as if he had "tamed me". Oh my, what an idiot.
"Ok, but tell me, do you have any more hints for me?" I question him and from there, the spy frowns as he becomes somewhat exasperated from my wish to get a reward.
"Yes, there is. But…"
"No buts. Tell me now." I state with a stoic face, and he complies in an instant.
"Ok. I heard rumors about the day of the attempt on your life. From what I could hear, Ibrahim Fatimid groaned with anger that day. And from there came reprisal from the Umayyads." He answers with a groan.
Please don't tell me Tharja is related to it… no need to care, she wouldn't do anything against us in such a way.
"I see. Besides, does this day of council fit with the day of the festival?" I ask
"Of course. There is no better way to destroy the grimleal religion than by mocking a council led by that rat, Gangrel."
Ok then "Now get out of my room."
"With pleasure" and out he goes.
Huh. There is no time for anything, just unstopping motion. What the hell am I supposed to be doing with this information? Gangrel wants this fuckin war now. Goddammit, there is nothing to be done. Ibrahim, Ibrahim. He was the wolf all along? I suppose I should have learned this information sooner. But besides that, can I, Tharja and Reflet even coexist in peace anymore? What a selfish wish.
So that was the XIV chapter. Well, I hope things got a little bit more interesting to read or so I presume and that grammar wasn't as dreadful this time around. Special thanks to Cavik for beta reading this chapter.
I also want to thank everyone who reads this little fic for keeping with this weird fic, who is stupidly edgy. Thank you very much. Also reviews are really appreciated, really. I can be found here: discord . gg/ 9XG3U7a
Stormtide Leviathan: Well, thanks! I didn't notice any of that, but I will thank the compliments anyway.
DannyPhantom619: I wonder too, I hope it isn't that big. If that is the case, Gabriel is screwed.