Author's Note:
Hope you enjoy this chapter. I don't own this game or characters.
-Tangent
"This is wrong." Gavin muttered from behind Ean. The elf did not respond as he clambered over a rock that formed the path they had chosen to take. Gavin was entirely correct, and they all knew it. The longer they spent in the Land of the Dead, the more the reality of it began to sink in. The initial feeling of weakness had passed, but each fiber of his body still vibrated with the knowledge that he was an interloper. Every breath, every beat of his heart was a foreign sensation to their current surroundings.
Worse still, the elf suspected that monsters, of which there surely were many, could hear those same alien sounds. They would be like a light in the midst of a storm, calling the creatures to the feast of mortal flesh and blood. For what felt like the fiftieth time, Ean flicked his claws out nervously, before sliding them back into their sheathes. They had been descending away from the portal that had led back to the Land of Man for quite some time, and yet they were still too high to make out any details of the forest below. He certainly could not see the town of Casket Hill, no matter which direction he looked.
Jack let out a muffled curse from behind him, accompanied by the sound of sliding rocks. Rye had seized him by the arm to prevent the younger boy from sliding down the entire mountain, but the action had still dislodged several smaller rocks, which went tumbling out of sight. The wind seemed to howl a little more angrily, the chorus of voices whispering wordless accusations at Ean. From the looks on the rest of the party's faces, they were hearing something similar.
As they descended lower and lower, the details of the endless forest stretching out in front of them came into clearer view. The trees were crooked and dead, with branches like tendrils that seemed to move in the cold wind. Here are there, bushes with grey, dead leaves formed impenetrable walls that wound their way into the distance and out of sight. Ean leapt down from the last rock onto the dead grass with a crunching sound, listening for anything out of the ordinary.
"Where now?" Jack asked softly, looking back up at the winding road they had been following.
"According to the journals, there should be a road that connects all the cities of the dead. It makes it so lost souls can navigate to the place they should be." Gavin gazed around, eyes narrowed. "I haven't seen any souls on our way down, though. Isn't that weird? With the war, you'd think there would be lots."
"What do the souls look like?" Emma asked, fidgeting with the handle of her sword.
"Honestly, I'm not sure, but I think we should be able to see them. I've seen a few in the real world, but they were little more than mist. The faintest echoes of their lives, left in the mortal realm."
"We can worry about that later." Ean said. "Let's just look for a path through the forest."
They explored further, moving north along the boundaries of the woods. Eventually, Jack spotted a rotted wooden sign, hanging from the branches of a particularly foul tree. Next to it, a small path seemed to wind through the dead trees and out of sight, marked with thoroughly rusted fenceposts. In the moonlight, everything appeared to be a shade of blue.
Casket Hill – East →
Land of Man - Southwest ↓
There were no indicators of distance, something Ean found unnerving. Perhaps ghosts had no sense of time. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by an unearthly screech that echoed through the mist. It sounded eerily like a woman screaming in pain.
"What the-" Nicholas swore, spinning on the spot, but there was nothing there. The sound came again, only to be answered by another, this one far deeper and more sinister. The next moment, two massive shapes flew from the shadows. Ean lunged, but he was too slow to prevent a silvery set of claws raking down the prince's shoulder. Nicholas cried out and fell as the other shape shot towards Emma, who barely got her sword up to avoid a lethal bite from the monster.
In a split second, Ean's vision seemed to expand, and he took in every detail at once. Nicholas was on the ground, one of the monsters on top of him, while the other was still clawing at Emma with murderous intent. Jack and Gavin had been knocked to one side by the creatures, and Rye was too far away to help in the next moments.
Enough! Ean shifted, and with it came the overwhelming strength of the behemoth. His first strike knocked the writhing shadow off of Nicholas, who immediately rolled aside as Iya hurled a column of pure fire across the grass. The second monster screeched and took flight, flapping large wings that were a hideous mix of black and purple. The elf extinguished the blaze and spun, aiming her staff at the monster now soaring around them.
"You good?" Ean all but growled as he shrank back to his original form, helping Nicholas up as the monsters circled the party, still letting out those unearthly shrieks.
"I'm alive, aren't I?" The prince panted, producing a vial of red liquid and pouring it down his front, which was covered in blood. "Goddess above, these things are foul!" Assured that Nic was not about to bleed out, Ean turned to see Iya hurling blasts of magic at the monsters as the rest of the party came running up, forming a loose circle. Emma had several scratches on her face, but her eyes were alight with anger as the knight hefted her sword.
"They're like giant bats!" Jack exclaimed, recalling his knife as it bounced off a scaly wing. "But the skin is tougher than armor!"
"Then I'll burn it off." Iya flicked her wrist, and several tongues of fire lashed at the bats from all directions. However, the monsters managed to dodge through the magical attack, swooping down for another pass.
"Ean!" Emma shouted, and he saw the knight sprint towards him. "Throw me straight up!" The elf transformed immediately, and the cyclops lowered it's hand enough for the woman to leap onto. With a roar, he hurled the warrior skyward. At the same time, Iya made a slamming motion with her staff, and the air responded with a rush of wind.
The first bat was hammered into the ground so hard, it exploded into dust and ichor. The second tried to flee, but Emma spun in midair, slashing straight through both of the misshapen wings. The bat fell to the floor, and Iya sent a gout of fire to burn it to ashes.
Darkness fell over the clearing once more as Emma landed with a clank. Rye ran to her, while Gavin and Ava sat down next to Nicholas, inspecting his still-bleeding wound. Ean turned to see Iya standing over the corpses of the bats, making sure they were dead. As the elves watched, the bodies dissolved into black mist and dispersed, taken by the whispering winds.
"They were resistant to my powers." Iya murmured softly, so the others would not hear. "The phoenix song is effective, but other spells require much more effort here."
"There's no nature here. Maybe that means your songs get weaker." Ean guessed, tilting his head to listen to the others. Nicholas had stanched his wounds, and was setting about healing the scratches of the other party members. And yet... there was something else. Another sound.
The elf turned towards the forest, still listening. There was a presence there, one that was familiar... And yet, he knew that it was one he had never encountered in the world above. Without thinking, he took a step forward, drawn to the sound like a moth to flame.
"Not that way, Ean." Vincent growled. "Deeper in."
"We must go deeper." Edward rumbled. "To the place where it began."
"To the place where we can be freed." Cigni agreed, flapping her wings slightly. "He calls us, Ean. He calls you." He took another step, dragged by the other spirits. They pulled him onwards as they walked, heading towards the far-off light. The crimson light...
"Ean?" A hand on his arm, and the elf stopped. He was standing in front of the forest, but not where he remembered being.
I was standing with Iya. How did I get here? The form of his mate moved in front of him, eclipsing his view of the dead trees. Blue hair framed the silver eyes, which were filled with emotions he could not decipher. Was that... fear?
"It's me." Ean said, reaching out to touch Iya's face. The worry melted away, and the elf moved to wrap her arms around him. Dimly, he was aware of the other party members standing behind them, shifting uncomfortably. Evidently, they had seen his odd behavior as well. "What was I doing?" Iya stepped away, but her eyes remained fixed on his.
"Your eyes were red, and you started walking towards the forest. Rye thought we might have to knock you out, but Iya was able to bring you out of it." Emma said somberly, gripping the hilt of her blade. "Was it the vampire?"
"I... I don't know." Ean was surprised at how hard it was to admit that simple fact. He had never really known what was happening with the spirits. Instinctively, he reached out to check on them, to feel their familiar presences in the back of his mind.
Nothing. There was... nothing. Ean let out a sharp breath and spun, looking towards the forest once more. There, in the distance, a single crimson spark seemed to burn.
"I..." He tried to speak, but the words would not come. And why were his thoughts so fuzzy?
"Ean, you're not well. Something is happening." Iya said, taking his hand and leading him over to a rock. "Please, tell me what's happening." The other made to move with her, but a gesture from Rye stopped them.
Ean sat, his head spinning at the sheer emptiness. He had not realized how much it meant to him, to have those voices speaking to him. To have a place where nobody else could see.
"He's blocking me." He managed to whisper, and Iya's grip on his hand tightened slightly. "From feeling the spirits. The power is there, but... they're gone."
"Is he talking to you? Horace?" Iya asked gently.
"I don't hear his voice, but it's like he's trying to take control of my very body. I can't tell whether it's him or me, right now. It's like at any second, I could start walking towards that light in the forest." The dizziness was fading now, shrinking with every word. "I'm scared, Iya." His mate hummed slightly, but did not let go of his hand. For a long moment, nobody spoke.
"I'm scared too." Iya whispered. "I have been, many times along this journey we've taken. But nothing has frightened me as much as this, Ean. To see the one I love turn into someone else... I feel so alone. The thought of being separated from you is far worse than anything we've faced."
"I feel the same." Ean whispered, and the elves sat there for a moment, trying to drink in each other's presences.
It will never be enough. But for now... I will take what strength I can from it.
Ean sucked in a deep breath, let go of Iya's hand, and rose to his feet once more. The others stared at him, not in judgement or anger, but with belief that seemed to flow from each individual to the next.
"Horace is waiting for me in the forest." Ean said quietly. "Already, he is close enough to attack my mind. I must go to face him, to end this curse that has been laid upon me." At last, he understood the words of the hunter they had encountered in the Shadow Woods. The power was a curse, one that ate away at the very foundation of what it meant to be mortal.
"Are you... are you Ean right now?" Jack asked tentatively.
"I am. But for how much longer, I cannot say. So, I will go. And yet, this is not your fight. Your quest is to get to Casket Hill, and to find the help that may await us there. It's important that-"
"Oh, no." Rye said, cutting him off and stepping forward. The ranger wore a look of pure determination, like steel etched into his very gaze. "You aren't going alone."
"It's for the best." Ean murmured. "I won't let the rest of you suffer with me." He felt Horace's power tugging at him again, but the elf did his best to fight it back, forcing it down into that space within his mind.
"You don't get to decide that." Ava growled, and Gavin nodded. "We're with you till the end, Ean."
"You saved my life." Jack declared. "It's time I returned the favor." Nicholas merely raised an eyebrow, and Emma laid a hand on Rye's shoulder.
"We won't abandon you, Ean." Iya said softly, and her fingers wrapped around his once more. The feeling seemed to push Horace's power back, locking it away for a short while. Ean looked at his mate, looked at the six people willing to follow him into hell, and he nodded slowly.
"If you're sure... then I'd be happy for the help." He turned, focusing on that crimson light in the distance.
"Thank you... my friends."
Even if he were to live to be considered ancient among the elves, Ean would not be able to clearly remember what happened as they walked through the cursed woods. He remembered the dead trees reaching out, as if to snare him with their gnarled branches. The air grew heavy with the voices of souls, whispering and speaking to him. Some of them told him to flee, or to find another way, while others goaded him to proceed, heedless of the fate that awaited the elf.
Perhaps there were monsters too, because strange shadows seemed to move and dance at the edge of his vision. Some of them were accompanied by flashes of steel or strange, dancing flames that seemed to have a mind of their own. Still, they did not touch him, and Ean walked on.
A hooded man, pounding on the door of a remote cabin. The shadows fell thick around him, until they were bisected by the light from within.
"I need your help, Vincent."
A strange crimson light seemed to obscure his vision, and Ean shook his head, wanting to see more. He had to know what happened to the man knocking on the cabin door.
"Have you come to kill me?" A frail, broken form was slumped at the feet of a woman. Her very presence seemed to radiate power, illuminating the crudely carved cavern that they sat in. They spoke, but Ean did not hear them. The woman looked oddly familiar. Her hair was a light blue, and her ears were pointed, like his own.
"Find it, Horace." The woman, no, the Goddess, spoke again, and vanished into a shower of sparks.
The scarlet light extinguished the scene again, and Ean did not have the strength to resist it this time. It tore through his very being, and he thought he might have screamed.
"Ean." The foreign light seemed to recoil at the familiar voice, and it fled, leaving him in blessed darkness. "Ean, please. Open your eyes." It was a female voice, and it sounded so unbearably sad that he could not help but try to obey the request.
He was lying down, facing the sky that had two moons. The air was cold, and he shivered uncontrollably, more so from the sensation than the chill itself. A hand touched his chest, and a burst of warmth seemed to flow through him, and with it seemed to come a part of him that had been missing. The heat was like a gentle reminder, pulsing through his body, and Ean woke.
He shot up so fast, Jack tripped backwards. The elf panted, feeling his heart pound in his chest, each beat the loudest sound he had ever heard. Iya was kneeling next to him, and he could tell from one glance that she had seen something deeper than the others.
"Where are we?" He asked, draining a flask of water that Rye handed wordlessly to him.
"Still in the forest." Gavin said. "But you were barely coherent, Ean. And Iya... she tried to stop you." What had happened? He couldn't remember anything beyond the crimson light.
"Iya?" He asked dumbly. "What did you do?"
"I... I tried to pull you out of the visions." His mate rasped. Her face was still turned away from him, and Ean's eyes narrowed slightly. With a gentle touch, he tilted Iya's chin upwards, exposing her face.
There were cuts all over the elf's pale skin, stretching from her cheeks to her forehead. Her arms were similarly marred, with cuts that still dripped blood. Iya's eyes filled with tears, but Ean did not look away.
"I tried to heal them, but..." Nicholas said apologetically. "Whatever caused it wasn't normal."
Horace. He did this. Ean remained silent, trying to stop his rage from spiraling out of control.
"I saw... visions." Iya whispered, so quietly that only he could hear. The elf tucked her head into his shoulders, so that none of the others could see. Dimly, Ean was aware of the others stepping back, leaving the elves alone on the forest floor. "You... me... He wants us alive, Ean. He wants us to come. Whatever his plan is, he needs us to make it work, and all of this was to get us here. He knew."
"I know." He whispered back. "But I won't let him have his way anymore." The power welled up inside of him, but Ean did not change. Never again would he let Horace's power inside. Instead, he forced it out, expelling it as a gentle wave, made to undo what he had caused. As he watched, the cuts on Iya's face slowly closed up, vanishing without leaving so much as a scar. "We're going to stop him. Together."
"I know." Iya echoed him, and he pressed his lips to hers, trying to convey the overwhelming love and gratitude he felt. For a moment, everything else was swept away into the land of irrelevance. But Ean knew it couldn't last, and so he broke the kiss.
"We're almost there." He said as the others gathered round again. "Thank you for bringing me this far." For the first time, Ean knew what came next, and he was not afraid.
"Almost to where?" Jack asked, and Ean pointed through the trees.
"The place where it all began. That's where he's waiting." The elf drew in one more breath, and when he exhaled, he felt the last of Horace's power leave his body.
"Follow me."
The nature of stone was a curious thing. No matter where it was, whether in the realm of mortals or beyond, it seemed to always hold its shape. Stone was always hard and unyielding, bowing to nothing but the strongest of forces.
And yet... it was deceptively simple to break. His pale fingers clenched, and he could see the muscles underneath the translucent skin rippling with power. The rock in his hand was crushed into powder, blown away by the wind that howled amongst the desolate ruins.
The elf was close. For a moment, he had nearly consumed him completely, but that damn song mage had interfered, giving the boy enough time to break the connection. Now, he could sense nothing but the faintest whisper of Ean Okho's presence in the Land of the Dead. Pain tore through his essence as the spirits responded to his thoughts, lashing out in a desperate attempt to free themselves from his grasp. He heard Edward roar with fury against his chains, but the vampire squelched his power, forcing the long-dead boy down into a pit of darkest night. Amari screamed, but he stopped her too.
Foolish. It had been foolish to let that name cross his thoughts. Now the spirits knew that their true host was approaching, it would only serve to embolden them in their resistance. Horace frowned, feeling his jaw muscles clench, and his pale hand moved up, as it often did, to check on the item hanging around his throat.
Of course, the name was superficial. Horace Hawthorn did not exist anymore, and neither did any of the others. He supposed it was a fancy of the power that held him together, that he could refer to himself as such.
Names... They had names. Amari and Edward, but... what were the others?
He felt, rather than saw, an image of a house, silhouetted against the night sky, and the vampire fell to one knee, his crimson cloak splayed out like the wings of those cursed bats. It was too much to hold on to, and the power exploded in every direction, annihilating the ruins of the house he stood in. Stone crumbled to dust, and splinters flew as the former man clutched at his head, a silent scream echoing through the night.
And then, the amulet glowed, and the pain began to recede. There was the usual sensation of discomfort, but it was replaced by the blissful void of emptiness. The spirits did not matter, and this time, there was no voice to suggest otherwise. The feeling was euphoric, and the vampire did not stop his gleaming teeth from stretching into a smile. The amulet was wonderful! It had been his only companion for... for... It did not matter, only that it was still around his neck.
His ears, similar to those of the elves, twitched as the amulet warned him of presences on the other side the valley which hosted the ruins of some nameless town. It had been a good spot to wait, both for wandering souls and his main objective, who was now surely approaching at that very moment!
Feeling almost giddy with anticipation, Horace rose to greet his guests. He took up position on the ruined fountain in the center of town. He had to admit, his former host certainly had a flair for the dramatic, and so this seemed a suitable spot to greet his guests. The amulet flickered, and the vampire agreed. Best not to get distracted.
Footsteps on stone, drawing closer. He could hear them, echoing softly and rhythmically through the mists that drifted across the Underworld.
"I see that you did not come alone." He spoke softly, addressing a spot slightly to his left. The mist scattered, revealing the group of people that were standing there, waiting. The youngest of them recoiled at the sight of him, while the rest looked merely disgusted. "Welcome to my home, Ean Okho. We have much to discuss."
And there he was. The one who had proven himself to be suitable host, even better than old Horace himself. He was wearing clothes of dull green, and Horace anticipated that there would be armor under the dirty rags. No weapons, save for those nasty claws.
But it was the face that sent the largest thrill through him. The elf was simply staring at him, as if seeing the vampire from a great distance. It was the look of someone who was seeing a ghost, and the vampire laughed cruelly.
"We have nothing to discuss with-" The ranger growled at him, reaching for an arrow, but Ean held up a hand.
"Who are you?"
"Come now, Ean. You know me. I've been with you since the very beginning, when you stepped out of that irksome tree into the mortal realm. And I've watched you every step of the way, freeing my spirits I kept locked up. You really should have asked permission, you know." The voice that emanated from his mouth was calm, but inside, the rage was beginning to boil. Seeing the elf here, now, was almost too much to bear for the unstable mind.
"You are not Horace." Ean said softly. "At last, it makes sense." The words sent a shock through the vampire's system, but he ignored sensation.
"What do you mean?" The other elf asked.
The child of prophecy. Iya Tiki, the song mage.
"Horace was a man who lived in Aveyond. His village was destroyed by the witch, possibly the same that influenced Ishtar." The elf spoke quietly, but as though every single syllable was fact. He recoiled slightly, not wishing to hear any more, but Ean spoke on. "And so was he. He was corrupted, but still managed to retain control long enough to make it to the Underworld. And then you found it." His finger pointed at the vampire's chest, and his gaze slid down to see the trinket gleaming at his throat.
The amulet had no name that he knew of, nor any creator that he could discover. And yet, it made everything possible. It made Horace go away, and it trapped the other spirits too. To see these intruders gazing at it, coveting it was enough to send him into a fury.
"You shall not have it!" He roared, and the power he had been containing blasted outward like a bomb. It enveloped the group of mortals, and he grinned. Their bones had been ground to dust, surely, or their lives drained into his own spirit. And yet, when the crimson light died, he saw Ean standing there, utterly unfazed.
"Did you forget that I have the same power?" He asked softly.
"Power you stole!" The thing wearing Horace's skin snarled. "Power that should be mine!" It was utterly inconceivable! The spirits were his, not the boy's, and yet he was able to call upon their power.
And yet... it was nowhere near enough. The vampire smiled once more and rose to his feet, and Ean flicked his claws out.
"Don't you want to know what happened?" It was the last, and deadliest card he could play. "I have all the memories, after all. Even the ones you haven't seen. All his life, within my power." His power surged, preparing to strike, but he hid it, waiting for the right moment. Ean's hands faltered, and the vampire felt the blue eyes boring into his own.
"You lie."
"I do not. Every secret, held back until you came." The vampire raised his hands, and a sense of deepest satisfaction washed over him. "Do you wish to have them? You have but to join me, and I will give all to you."
"At the cost of my life, no doubt?"
"Not your physical life, no. But in so many other ways, the cost is greater. We will see if you can pay it!" The trap was ready, and his feet shifted, preparing to strike. The elf's eyes flared, but it was too late. With a screech, the vampire lashed out, so swiftly that none of his victims could react. His power snared them, seizing their minds and forcing them into the darkest pits of his mind.
It was a strike that he had been preparing for decades. He knew just how to trap them, how to plunge the mortals into memories so deep, they would never emerge. One by one, they fell. Ean lasted longer than any others, but even the elf was caught, trapped in the maze of his mind.
The mist that had obscured the village dispersed. The ruins themselves still stood, with empty houses littering the valley ringed by dead trees. Cursed bats circled overhead, searching for a victim, but they had all vanished. The fountain sat empty and broken, covered in a thick layer of dust.
Ean, and Iya, and the rest of the party were gone.
The silver clasps clicked together around his neck, and time seemed to slow. The monstrous bats were frozen in midair, fangs inches from his neck. They seemed to dangle, suspended by the magic that was holding everything in place. Horace tried to move, but found that he could not.
A pinprick of darkness appeared in his vision, just to the left, and began to expand like a puddle of ink. He tried to move away from it, but his body would not cooperate, and the darkness began to fill his entire vision, trapping him in a void so dark that light was an imaginary concept.
How much time passed, he did not know. Surely it had been a mistake to wear the amulet, to sentence himself to an eternity of darkness. Maybe Horace was moving, but he could no longer see anything at all, save for the deepest shade of black.
And then, the light came. It was a solitary sphere, dimmer than even the smallest candle, but it appeared to him as a ray of pure sunshine, illuminating his surroundings. And now he could feel again, feel his body responding to the light that was his singular hope.
"No going back now." He whispered, and his pale fingers grazed the miniature sun.
And the memories came. It was an overwhelming torrent, a flood of sight and sound that fractured his mind into a thousand pieces, and it was pain like he had never known. The feeling was entirely different than physical suffering, and Horace felt the distant corners of his mind begin to unravel. And yet, he held on, struggling through the deluge of information. With a last, desperate attempt, he lashed out and seized hold of a memory as it passed by. It writhed and tore at him, but Horace held on, knowing that letting go would mean a fate worse than death.
He was no longer in the maelstrom of thoughts and places. Instead, the air was light and cool, a gentle breeze wafting over his skin. Colors stabbed at his eyes, and Horace blinked furiously until he could see again. He was in a wooded area, but like none he had ever seen before. Every tree was different, as far as he could see, from the shape down to each individual leaf that hung from the branches. Some were thin and willowy, while others sported vibrantly colored barks.
"Is it done?" A voice, old and worn, rasped from behind him. Horace turned to see an elderly man standing in the clearing with him. The man wore robes of brilliant red and blue, and yet, his immense age could not be disguised. His hair was long and white, and the ears...
His ears were pointed, and Horace stared. The man was an elf.
"It is done." Another voice, female this time, rang loudly in the silence. He knew that voice, and yet... "But it does not belong here." The elf bowed his head.
"Then I shall attend to it." He began to move, and Horace realized that the elf used a cane to move. His gait was slow and uneven, but the creature never stopped or faltered. His own footsteps on the leaf-covered ground were silent, so he followed the memory without a sound to indicate that he was there.
The trees thinned, and Horace found himself staring into the void of an infinite sky. The land seemed to abruptly end in a jagged cliff, with no rail or barrier to stop one from plummeting into the nothingness below. Cloud drifted by lazily, as if unconcerned with what transpired on the floating chunks of land. Horace could see nothing in any direction, but the elf seemed unconcerned. Slowly, the elder reached into his pocket and extracted a small, silver chain. It was an amulet, and it was so familiar that Horace found himself reaching for it. A moment later, the elf dropped the necklace, and it plummeted into the void. Horace grabbed for it, but he had not balanced himself properly, and he fell as well, down into the land of blue and white.
The sensation stopped, and Horace found himself on solid ground once more. It was night now, but he was no longer in a forest. The air was humid and murky, and the ground squelched beneath his feet.
"A marsh?" He muttered, gazing around. Pools of stagnant water merged with the watery mud as far as he could see, broken up only by the occasional grim-looking tree.
"...Too dangerous." Two voices reached him, and Horace turned to see the figures step out of the mist. They were small, and hovered off the ground with fairy-like wings. One was a brilliant shade of yellow, while the other was a more subdued hue of green. He had never laid eyes on them, but Horce immediately identified them as nymphs, daughters of the Goddess.
"You worry too much, Nuha. Mother has her reasons."
"Yes, but I know you, Heptitus. You always believe in our mother, even to a fault." The nymphs came closer, and Horace turned, listening to the argument.
"I guess that's why you're the wise one, Nuha. And the oldest." The one named Nuha smiled apologetically.
"I don't mean to boss you around, Hep. I just worry, you know."
"You should. After all, I'm-"
"You're not evil. That is simply your nature." Nuha said firmly, frowning at her sister. "Good and bad come in moderation, do they not? And besides, you love Mother as much as the rest of us. Why would that change?"
"Good point." Heptitus said, coming to halt and hovering in the air. She was not smiling, but Horace could sense her contentment. "This is where we part ways, then."
"I'm afraid so. I'm off to Eredar to see the dwarves." Nuha rose a little higher into the air. "Will you keep your form?"
"I don't think so." The nymph of wickedness smiled slowly, and twirled in a circle. As she spun, her image seemed to blur, becoming taller and wider, until there was a human witch standing in the marsh.
Horace's blood ran cold, and he clenched his fists without thinking. He knew the witch, had memorized every detail of her face the day he had died. Although she looked younger here, it was, without a doubt, the same person who had ruined his life.
A roar of rage burst through him, and he slashed outwards. Red light shattered the memory and hurled it away from him. His temper remained though, and Horace let his power out in a wave of destruction. It did nothing to break whatever spell the amulet had placed on him, but it did make him feel a little bit better.
"Why?" He growled, sifting through the torrent of memories. "Why would she do that? What does the amulet do?" He searched for any memories containing the witch, but none appeared to him. As he searched, voices flew past him, snippets of entire lives being played upon his mind.
"Melding of souls..."
"It hurts... It hurts..."
"Have mercy, I beg you!"
"Prophecy... the prophecy..."
"Enough!" He roared, driven to anger once more. "Leave me be!" Suddenly, the amulet burned around his neck, and Horace was pulled into another reality once more.
He was back inside the void, as it had been before the light had appeared. But this time, Horace was not alone. A figure hovered across from him, and it seemed to emit a scarlet light that pervaded his mind.
"Beautiful, isn't it? All these memories, in one space. Do you like it?"
"You can see me?" Horace said as the figure came into clear relief, and he let out a startled cry. It was him, no doubt about it, but it was still alarming to see his current form from another angle. The hair was white and thin, falling in unkempt curls and strands that framed the translucent face. His own crimson eyes stared back at him, cold and uncaring, while the lips curved into a gruesome imitation of a smile. The only notable difference was that his own clothes were rags, while the vampire opposite him wore robes of the finest silk, accompanied by a scarlet cape.
"Finished staring? Yes, I can see you."
"Then... who are you?"
"Me? I'm your soul, Horace. All the deepest, ugliest parts of you laid bare for everyone to see." He knew in an instant that it had to be true. The man's gaze seemed to pierce his very being, and Horace knew that lying was useless.
"I thought the soul was made of parts. Which part are you?" The vampire laughed sharply, but the eyes conveyed how unamused he was.
"It's true that mortals have souls with parts. But you and I both know that we're... special." The creature savored the word, as if the meaning behind it was good and just. His unease was growing, but Horace figured it was his only chance to get some real answers.
"The amulet." The vampire's smile grew, but he said nothing. "It brought me here."
"Oh, you're still in the Underworld. Physically, you never moved a step."
"Magic, then." Horace continued, frowning. "And then you appeared. So the amulet must be able to connect to my soul, then. Or it lets the wearer see their own soul."
"You are a clever one." His soul began to pace around him, studying him. "But then again, so am I. It is little wonder that the Goddess appeared to you, unlike the others."
"My friends?" Horace demanded, his gaze snapping up. "Where are they? Are they here too?"
"I'm afraid not. Guess the Goddess didn't see fit to save them like she did you." The words stung with bitter truth, but Horace pushed on.
"So where are they, then? Tell me!"
"They're probably still terrorizing the land above, if I had to guess." His soul was not smiling any more. "If only you could stop them."
"Once I get out of here-"
"No." His soul said simply. "You won't leave."
"Oh, come on. Help me, and I'll help you." Horace said desperately. "What is it you want?"
"I'm content to stay right here." The vampire. "And besides, we have so much to talk about."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't you want to know the reason why?" His soul asked softly. "Why you suffered, why they suffered, why you were brought here?" Horace turned to look at him silently, and the vampire continued. "I can tell you, if you want."
For a moment, Horace was tempted to throw the attitude back at his soul, but he paused.
"...Tell me, then. What's the big secret?" His soul smiled once more, and it sent a shiver through him.
"The amulet, of course. You really think that it was coincidence, everything that happened to your people? No, the Goddess knew, and has known, for a long time that this would happen. She would say this had to happen." Horace closed his eyes, but the words still tore at him, invading his brain.
"And so, you all were sacrificed to fulfill the prophecy. Edward, Amari, Vincent's family, Cigni, Erik, and you. Seven lives expended for the greater good."
"But it's over now, right?" Horace murmured, sinking to his knees. "I found the amulet. The witch can't reach it anymore."
"Over? Horace, it has not even begun." His soul said softly. "You are not the one spoken of by the prophecy."
The simple sentence exploded with the force of sun, and it laid waste to everything that remained of him. His emotions faded, burned to ash by the overwhelming truth. Horace sat there, in the void, and did not move.
He had been lied to. Deceived.
"There's more." His counterpart continued softly. "The amulet was too powerful to remain, and yet it would be needed in the distant future. An elf will eventually come to you, Horace, and the amulet will be passed on to him."
"And then?" He said finally, raising his head slightly. "What will become of us?"
"The same that happens to all tools when their use is over. They are thrown away, discarded and destroyed."
Horace shivered, but it was not out of fear. Hatred was beginning to bubble up inside up, burning hotter than anything he had felt before. His hands shook, and he howled as the witch's magic burst forth, decimating the space around him.
"You are right to be angry." His soul told him softly. "The Goddess betrayed us! She used us to accomplish her goal and left us to suffer!"
"There must be a reason for it." But the words sounded weak even as they left his mouth, and the vampire laughed at him.
"Of course there's a reason! But none she'd see fit to share with cattle like us. We're expendable, after all."
"I'm not expendable." He growled, and his soul nodded slowly.
"Neither am I, but it's a moot point. We're one and the same, after all." There was a pause. "I have an idea." Horace did not speak, and so his soul continued. "The prophecy speaks of a time when one of the nymphs will try to take over the world. Two elves will come from their own land to stop her, but they'll need the amulet."
"So? Why does that matter?"
"Because we can use it first!" His soul exclaimed. "If we reunite using the amulet, we'll be able to make this power our own, Horace! We could protect the others, and put a stop to this ourselves."
"But.. the prophecy."
"The prophecy doesn't matter! We have a chance to fix this, and I'm going to take it while we can. There'll be no need for the amulet later if we prevent the situation from ever occurring."
"I... I don't know. Can we do it?"
"I know we can." His soul said, and extended a hand. "So what do you say we go defy fate?" Horace stared at the proffered limb for a long time, and finally, he admitted the truth.
"I'm tired, you know. So tired of all of this. But if I can help the others... I'm in."
He took the vampire's hand, and everything else faded away.
What came next was no mere memory. Horace remembered quite clearly what they had done next, the crimes they had committed against the rules of magic. The thought made him quiver with glee as he looked around. Ean had vanished, as had the others, but he could still feel them close by, their life forces struggling against his own power.
They had schemed, or more accurately, he had schemed following their reunion with the amulet's power. The true Horace was nothing more than a whisper in the back of his head these days, and sometimes not even that. The soul smiled as it recalled how they had taken the minds of their friends back and placed them in remote locations, where they would do no harm to travelers. For a while, it had worked, but complications had arisen. It was then that he decided that he worked best alone, and had gotten rid of Horace altogether.
These days, he was much happier without the broken man inside his mind, complaining that he was going too far. Of course, he had been, but why did that matter? He was content, or at least he would be soon.
Another splitting headache assailed him, and he fell to his knees in the ruined visage, allowing the amulet to take over once again.
What was happening to him? Ean no longer knew, only that he was in immense trouble. The image of Horace shaking hands with the vampire faded away, and the elf was left there, alone in the dark.
"Iya?" He called. "Rye?" No answer. He was horrified at what he had seen, and yet, he did not fully understand. Not yet.
"How could you do that to him?" Ean whispered into the darkness. "Goddess, if you truly knew, why?" He spun on the spot, feeling for the other spirits, and his heart leapt when he felt Vincent's mind touch his.
"Vincent! Can you hear me?"
"Ean?" The voice was ragged and full of pain. "You must escape from here... please..."
"I can't leave you behind! Where are you?"
"The vampire has us trapped too well. I... We can remember now. He corrupted us with the amulet, but... being with you has restored us. He seeks to undo this."
"I saw those memories too... but I don't think that was Horace." The elf thought he could see a faint shadow in the distance, but it was vague and blurry. Straightening up, he began to walk towards it. Almost immediately, he encountered a resistance that prevented him from moving, but forced his way through it. "I'm sorry to see what happened to him."
"He was not always the best, but... he was a good man. All of them were." Vincent murmured, and Ean thought his voice was a little stronger. The resistance was growing stronger now, and he felt the darkness wrapping around his leg like roots. He shook them off and pressed on, moving towards the figure in the void.
"They still live, Vincent." He said firmly, and he swore he felt the man shudder through their bond. "You are still alive, and so am I."
"But... he is too powerful. The amulet does not let us escape."
"Just keep talking to me, okay?" Ean panted heavily as he waded forward, feeling his legs burn. "The amulet. What does it do, really?"
"He thinks of it as a part of him. It takes souls and adds their power to his. That is why we saw no wandering dead when arriving in the Underworld. For the last centuries, he has been amassing power, waiting for you to come."
"Yeah, well... he's going to be disappointed. I didn't come all this way to lose." He could see Vincent now, his werebear form huddled on the ground. There were chains wrapped around his boy, but the force opposing him seemed to be doubling at a rapid rate. He thought he could hear distant screaming, but the voice was high and alien.
"You really think you can win?" Vincent asked dry, and the head turned to face him, eyes shining with some unknown emotion.
"I swore to protect your daughter, and all of the others. I refuse to be kept down by an evil little piece of soul magic." With each word, Ean forced his way through the magic, grimacing with every step.
Vincent's voice faded away, and Ean looked up. The werebear was lying on the ground, shackles on his four legs. The presence in his mind was gone, but the voice of the weary man came to him regardless.
"I have never known one such as you, Ean Okho."
"Nor I, any of you. You've languished here long enough. It's time we fight back." Ean said firmly, moving over to seize one of the chains.
"You have a plan?" The elf laughed, and the sound rang like a bell. The darkness seemed to recoil slightly as Ean seized one of the chains.
"I'd figured on improvising. You in?" The werebear stirred, and rose from the ground.
"Of course, my friend. Until death."
With a shout, Ean snapped the chain in two.
The pain was unbelievable, like something he had felt in distant memories. Horace had felt this pain before, not him, and so he could not have been prepared for the overwhelming agony. His very being roared in anguish, and he felt the tethers tying Vincent to him snap, ripped away by another force.
The vampire did not know how long it had been when he opened his eyes. The moon was full, and it shone brilliantly through the clouds and trees, but everything was tilted on its side. After a moment, he realized that he was lying on the dirt, and the fragment of soul rose, feeling for the amulet. As long as it was safe, then...
Dirt scraped behind him, and the vampire spun. There, standing across the shattered village square, was Ean Okho, accompanied by a creature that stood as high as his shoulder. Instinctively, he looked at the eyes, but there was no longer any trace of his influence in them. Instead, it was Vincent's eyes that gazed at him, and Vincent's that spoke.
"Release him."
"Whatever do you mean? I am Horace." He smirked slightly, confident in his own abilities. It was just the two of them, after all, and nobody else was coming to save the elf. He'd broken free, yes, but such an action only guaranteed a more painful death.
"No." Ean said softly, his voice rasping in the quiet. He had no weapons, but the elf stood there confidently, as if daring the vampire to attack. "You're not."
"You saw, then?" The fake Horace spat, beginning to circle his foes. "You know everything?"
"Not everything, but I think I've finally figured it out." Ean said. "You're not Horace's soul. You're part of the witch's soul, the piece that took root in him."
He couldn't help it. The vampire laughed, howled with glee bordering on insanity as he continued to pace. He felt his lips part in a maniacal grin, stretching his muscles so wide they hurt.
"No point in denying it any more, then?"
"None at all."
"You really are the one of the prophecy." His voice grew deeper, more menacing, and the vampire felt his power coil up inside of him, quivering with anticipation. "So clever. So brave." Ean said nothing, but he saw his hands clench. "Horace is no more. I control his body and power now. And without the amulet, the prophecy will never be brought to fruition. I will rule."
"I won't let you." Ean said firmly. "Horace can still come back."
"Oh? Try it, then. If you dare." They drifted to a stop, just a few feet apart, and he saw the elf look deep into his eyes.
There was moment of absolute stillness before the tableau exploded into motion.