Pre-Note: This note contains brief mentions of sexual violence against women, infanticide, child murder and other forms of torture. It gets dark.
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Violet dug her face into the mad horse's mane, drifting snowflakes feeling like blades upon her cheeks. Rumbling thunder cracked the sky; the light of the moon swallowed by thick grey clouds. Even the fire swallowing Cainhurst Township had long since died out. Only leaving embers and cinders behind. Some few lucky stone buildings still standing, charred as they were.
The smell of sweat assaulted her nose, but she didn't much mind it. It was far more pleasant than the salty sea breeze. The echo of hooves on stone was drowned out by the malicious giggling that followed them. The malformed child-bat's hunting after them like a pack of rabid beasts. Screeching and constantly divebombing towards them. Uncaring for their own safety.
The world was blue. She could feel how her heart beat, how it pushed blood through her body, from her fingers to her toes to other nooks and cronies she could only feel. Through her clammy palms she could feel how the horses muscles moved. How they stretched and contracted, how it's body moved, how it's lunges pushed air through its body.
'This was a stupid idea.' The realisation had settled in her mind for a good while ago. The second before the black horse had jumped through a crumbling wall to be exact. Peeking up from the mane, Violet saw a familiar well. 'Were we running in circles?' She wondered, remembering having seen the well earlier.
She wished that realisation had helped her more, but with how the horse ran with wild abandon, that wasn't of much use. She could always let go and let her aura make her fall safe. But she really didn't want to know what the horse would do. Not wanting to find out if she would be its next meal.
'I could always try stabbing it.' Violet mussed to herself, her misericorde held firmly in her hand. 'Or can I steer it? Tame it?'
Quickly going over her other options, Violet knew time was ticking by. She was so outclassed by everything that it wasn't even funny. Each minute she spent away from her dad, was another shovelful of dirt off her grave. Part of her knew she wouldn't die die. But that didn't make it better, she didn't want to die. She didn't like pain. She didn't like how a spike of pain raced through her mind every time she thought about dying. As if something had happened that she had been forced to forget.
Steeling her nerves, she clamped her legs together and leaned right. The madly galloping horse turning sharply to the right. Sending them barrelling down a charred alley. Leaning left, the horse exploded to the left the moment they were out. Crashing through a stone statue that sent blood shooting everywhere.
The horse came to a screeching halt, almost throwing her off it's back. Gently trotting back to the blood and gore, it happily began feasting on the blood. Cracking bone with its teeth and snorting in enjoyment as it swallowed. "Good horsey." Violet cooed, running a gentle hand trough it's mane. Earning a pleased night from the horse as it munched away.
"Good boy?"
"Neighghhghg!" The horse snorted. Stamping a hoof into the cobbled stones in protest.
"Good girl then." Violet amended quickly, calmingly running her hands through its mane as it snorted content. Going back to crack bones with its jaws. Followed by the slurping of noodles as it swallowed the intestines with gusto. "Were you hungry girl? Then why don't you come with me? Dad kills a lot of people. If you are nice, maybe he can throw you a bone every now and then."
The horse stopped chewing, instead turning its head to the side, a burning purple eye staring at her. Violet simply continued to run her hands through its mane, gripping her dagger close if things developed to combat, but otherwise not minding much. Simply cooing and running a hand down its neck.
Snorting again, the horse sniffed the air before beginning to trot aimlessly. Licking the blood of its mouth before sniffing the air again and shooting of like a bloodhound. Violet having to hold on for dear life as the horse jumped, launching itself onto a rooftop and jumping to another.
Queasy and nauseous were the words Violet felt best describe how she felt. With terrified a close contender, holding on with all she had. Doing her best to scramble closer to its neck while she felt herself dragged backwards. The horse only growing wilder when her nails dug into its neck. Orange light surrounding her arms as they screamed at her in protest.
Yet, while her arms burned, her lunges ached for breath and sweat raced down her back. Violet had never felt so free. The world passed by in a blur. Wind raced through her hair.
With one last jump, Violet felt her tummy knot as she was dragged weightlessly through the air. Gravel cracked under the horses hooves. Pearls of blackened blood hung in the air, Horsey's entire neck hanging in the air for a moment before being carried by momentum onto a snow patch. "Horsey!" The word's left her mouth on reflex, drowned out by a gargled shout of surprise as she came tumbling into the ground. Wincing when Horsey's warn body crushed one of her leg's under its weight. Her aura protected it from breaking, but the weight felt crushing, sending sharp spikes of pain racing through her leg.
Paick raced through her, reaching for her pistol she hurriedly looked up. All the tension escaping right out of her as she breathed easily, smiling up at her dad, only for ice to race through her veins when he looked at her.
There was nothing in her dad's eyes.
Drops of black blood dripped down his blade's edge and down his cheek. Lines of silver ran down from the corner of his eyes. He held his left arm over his bosom, almost as if he was carrying something that wasn't there. His entire demeanour screamed at her. A hollowness clung to him. Rooting her to the spot. The warmth her dad radiated simply gone. The open invitation to hug him, to reach out, not there.
Pain raced through her mind, two crystal clear blue eyes staring down at her with protective righteousness and gentle warmth before fading from her mind. What she thought she had forgotten coming back to her. She had seen how her dad wore his emotions on his sleeves, no matter how much he tried to hide them. Anger came and went, while smouldering hate stayed. His bloodlust was a temporary thing, so was his killing intent. Her dad exuded kindness in his every move, warmth fell of him constantly. Constantly inviting her to seek shelter in her arms when things became overwhelming, and she wanted a place to feel safe.
The emptiness scared her. 'Would there ever be a day where Dad looks at me the same?' doubt whispered to her. Drawing into herself as she felt so unbelievably small. Her dad's tall form, one which usually made her feel so safe and so warm, left her feeling smaller than a roach.
Bending down, he grabbed Horse's body, effortlessly moving it off her leg. Moving his bloody hand towards her leg, she hastily pulled it towards her. Holding his hand out towards her, he stared hollowly at her. Having been around her dad enough, she knew what he meant. Hesitantly she reached out, placing her hand in his. In an instant she felt as if spring coursed through her. The burning in her arms gone, it didn't feel as if her lungs were burning, or if someone had shoved knives down her throat.
"Better now?" Her dad asked, his words quick and concise. His voice completely flat, making her flinch, she hadn't known someone could sound so dead.
Her flinch seemed to jog something in her dad. It wasn't slow, but it wasn't quick either. Warmth returned to his eyes. A wry, hurt but understanding smile gracing his lips. Softening his hardened features as he opened his arms. In an instant she was wrapped into a warm hug. Laying to rest all her doubts and fears as she just enjoyed.
"I'm sorry. Did I scare you?" He asked gently. Daring to nod, she heard her dad sigh. "I'm sorry." He whispered. Violet didn't care much; she was just glad to have her dad back.
Breaking the hug, something dark drifted in his eyes while something jagged and sharp crept into the edges of his smile. But this time Violet could smile back, hesitantly as it was, knowing that it wasn't directed at her.
The soft, echoey, sound of cooing echoed out around them. Lightning coursed through her, panicky throwing her eyes around. Eventually landing on a dozen ghastly forms pulling themselves out from her dad's shadow. They were all young, and they all looked just like her with white hair, white eyebrows and even white eyelashes. Dressed in more finery she had ever seen, and all carrying the same wounds. A deep gash between the fourth and fifth rib, with the same carved rune on their foreheads. It consisted of a deep vertical line running down the centre with two symmetrical curved arcs that sweep upwards and outwards, looking like crescent moons.
She didn't recognise the rune, her dad had begun teaching her runes, but only the introductory ones. However, Violet knew she would never forget it after tonight. She didn't know it was possible to wound someone so badly in life that the scars still bled in death. Crimson bled from the sigil, turning to silvery ectoplasm when it contacted the air.
Violet stood rooted to as the spectres floated over to her. Cooing at her, squishing her cheeks with their cold fingers. One spectre even fished out a comb, running it through her hair as she spoke in a so old dialect that she coulndt understand what she said. The only thing she knew was that her legs were giving out beneath her, all the spiking stress and sudden relief leaving her exhausted.
"Who are they?" Violet mumbled, feeling her body betray her. Her eyelids growing heavy, her legs felt like lead. Her dad's gentle hug not doing much to help her, in fact it only made thing worse. Seeking refuge in his warmth, it was almost impossible to stay awake. No matter how much she struggled, her eyelids grew heavier and heavier. The last thing she heard was the spirits cooing.
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As his daughter breathed easily in his arms, snuggling into his embrace, the spectres cooed. Floating around her, poking her cheeks and giggling. Lifting her gently up in her arms, Jaune carried her for a few steps before sitting down under a frozen three. The chill of the snow doing little to calm the raging inferno that leaked out from inside.
'I thought the changes I had made through the Organic Order ritual made it impossible for me to feel anger.' Jaune thought, a cloud of condense appearing when he snorted out. The anger coursing through his veins, threatening to set him on fire from within proved that wrong. However that fire, the burning that made simply sitting still hurt, was nothing compared to the disgust he felt at himself.
He hadn't even felt the tears streaming down his cheeks until he saw his reflection in her eyes. The little flinch she did hurting him in ways no beast ever could. 'Had I really been so lost?'
The thought left him feeling hollow, no matter how he raked his brain, he coulndt find an answer. And that was answer enough.
Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, Jaune twinged his spirituality. Motes of silvery light gently drifting from her form as he sent her to the dream. This night long having turned into something that was leagues out of what she should be forced to handle.
"Don't boo me, young lady." Jaune said, affectionately poking the nose of a spectre. "And don't pout either, it's unbecoming of someone of your standing." He lectured as the young Queen huffed and crossed her arms. Her cheeks rosy as she floated back into his shadow. Ritually murdered before she could even reach Ruby's age. 'Thankfully none of the Queenly spirits are Violet's age.' He thought to himself, glad for the little mercies. They were becoming increasingly rare, but he treasured them nevertheless.
Standing up and stretching, he threw his coat back on. He didn't need it to stave off the cold, but having gotten so used to it not having it on almost felt as if he was streaking.
Looking up at the Castle, he had a pretty good idea of where the Queen was. "Never thought I one day would be performing regicide." Jaune mumbled to himself, heart beating in his ears. His blood boiling in his veins. "Not to mention it's bound to bait out the Viscount. After all, how do you force someone out of hiding? Go for what they value the most."
It was a simple plan, but Jaune found that simple plans worked best for him. No matter where he was hiding, The Viscount would drop everything, if it meant coming to the protection of his Queen. And he much rather fight a mad zealot head on, than to give the old hunter any more time to plan his next move. Their first bout had left him on the backfoot, his dispels all used up. The only spells he had left where his multiple forms of healing, limit remover and armour. Unfortunately armour and his spells did little when he was up against a two-dimensional line that was unimaginable sharp. A twinge shoot from his arm as he remembered the spell cutting it off as if his aura hadn't been there.
'But I'm not completely out of options.' Jaune thought to himself, clenching his left fist. Without a thought, his aura surged through him. Soft crimson light shining out between his fingers. The calm spirits around him instantly growing restless. Their eyes disappearing into black pits that cried black sludge. Nails turned to sharp claws, teeth turned sharp, their entire demeanour turned ravenous. The rune of sacrifice burned, crimson fire licking their forms. Before they could transform further, he cut the aura. In an instant the darkness and grudges retreated into them. A dozen eager and naive ghostly young queens surrounding him. Acting as if the last moment's hadn't happened.
'Like that wasn't confirmation enough.' He much rather not think about what his real semblance was. Life had been so much easier when his mind hadn't been filled with existential dread. When he could play pretend with himself, imagining that it was just his semblance that was weird. And not something supernatural that had picked him out on a whim.
Because that what it had been, random chance. A child. That was the criteria the ritual was based on. It could just have easily been Pyrrha, Ruby, Ren, Violet, Arianna, even the headmaster and Professor Goodwitch fell under the criteria. Not that he wished it on any one of them. 'At least I have the dream. I rather not imagine what would have become of me if I didn't.'
Corpse. Spirited away to his demise.
He knew it, he felt it in his bones, but still, he didn't want to acknowledge it. Only for the peace of mind not thinking about it gave.
A poke to his cheek broke him out of his thoughts, one of the younger Queenly spectres hanging of his shoulders. Giggling as she blushed to the tips of her ears when he ran a gentle hand through her spectral locks. "Now now little lady. You can play with Violet later."
With a huff and a pout, she floated gently back over to his shadow and melded into the darkness. His shadow growing deeper and darker for each spirit that resided there. Even with the moon swallowed by clouds, his dark shadow stood out on the snowy backdrop. Staring at it for a bit, a dozen differently coloured eyes stared back. Gentle blues, hard steely eyes, beautiful amber, eyes full of gold, and beautiful emeralds to just name a few.
"That's going to take some explaining to do." He breathed, sighing when a chorus of giggling rang out from behind him. Being the mature person he was, Jaune pulled out his pipe and snapped his fingers before taking a drag. Herb mixture twenty-four filling his lungs. A pleased hum escaping him when the taste hit his tongue, it's strength was a bit on the weaker side, so it did next to nothing when it came to dampening his boiling blood. 'At least it tastes good. Which is the only thing I have going for me.'
Effortlessly vaulting over an iron fence, every step echoing with a crisp snap. The heart of the castle was right before him, having been on the way back when Violet came crashing in on a black horse. However, the trudge back lacked a certain hecticness. Whenever a silver lady or stone gargoyle tried to attack him, a single glance from one of the Queenly ghosts hiding in his shadow stopped them right in their tracks. Letting him walk past without having to resort to violence.
'Even if I'm planning to sanctify and burry everyone on the island, it's nice not having to fight every step of the way.' Jaune thought to himself, taking another drag as he prepared to scale the obstacle before him. The crack in the grand hall casting warm light out over the snow behind him.
He didn't feel the adrenaline race through him as he jumped. His burning blood cooked him inside out. Yet, he didn't allow himself to be consumed by the fire roaring through him. Keeping his aura up as he quickly and efficiently scaled the wall. All his hours climbing up the cliff overseeing the Emerald Forest paying dividends as he raced up. 'Pyrrha really was right on the money when it came to climbing. Good and efficient training. Not to mention just being able to climb fast is always a bonus.'
Grabbing the edge, he threw himself in. Rolling over the floor, fully expecting The Viscount to come shooting out from the darkness. A pang of disappointment shoot through him, before he ruthlessly crushed it. Keeping his guard up, he looked around the grand hall. Throwing out some obvious baits while walking around.
Clicking his teeth, he mentally went over the quickest route to the Queen's chambers. There were multiple ways to the Queen's chamber. Or there had to be. But with how the eye of the storm seemed to be centred around the roof of a single building, he knew that was where he should start looking. Not that he thought he would find much luck in trying to find a secret path. Not when the winter storm was supernatural in nature.
'You are basing a lot on baseless assumptions there Jaune.' Chiding himself did nothing to stop his plan. Knowing that right now, he coulndt be bothered to go exploring every nook and cranny. The night, the hunt had already been filled with too much excitement. And with his earlier discoveries eating him up inside, Jaune just wanted to kill the Queen and her rabid Viscount, and be done with it.
He could, and would, explore tomorrow, when he was going through the castle and township to look for any more bodies to burry. But right now it was time to end this once and for all.
And he was taking the express route. Smashing his fist into a large stained-glass window, Jaune cared little for the once beautiful artwork. Shards of glass exploded from where his fist passed through the glass, cracks raced through the artwork. Bringing his arm back, he smashed his fist into it again, this time glass exploded from everywhere. Shards of coloured glass rained around him, grabbing the window ledge he pulled vaulted onto the windowsill and started at the eye of the storm.
Eyeing the building, he pulled out his grappling hook. The best investment he had ever made. Seeing the roof railings, Jaune knew he had his target. Spinning the grappling hook and with a hard throw he sent it racing through the air. Not able to stop the smirk as the hook did exactly what he wanted. Flying a tiny bit over the railing before the weight caused it to fall and wrap around the metal railing.
Testing the rope with a sharp tug, he smiled when it held tightly. Breathing again, he threw himself out, landing feet first against the wall before quickly finding a proper footrest. Not wanting to test how securely the railing was built.
"Honestly, as far as stupid idea's goes. This one is pretty mild." Jaune mumbled, leaping up and grabbing a windowsill over him. Pulling the rope so he could launch himself to the next ledge. Grabbing the ledge, he dragged himself up, and grabbed the railing. Breathing once before pulling himself up and vaulting over it. Not even feeling a strain, every emotion and feeling lost in the endless inferno that threatened to break out at any moment.
Untying his grappling hook, he had Isolde spirit it away. Taking inventory of everything he had, Jaune sent a cautionary glance to the ominously looming gateway. Instincts screaming at him in anticipation. Breathing out, Jaune took inventory of everything again. Tsking under his breath when he didn't feel his heartbeat calm, only growing faster instead. Taking his pulse, Jaune knew he was delaying, but he liked to think he had grown out of his reckless phase where he faced everything blindly. If taking a minute to better prepare mentally was what he needed, then that is what he would do.
"That can't be right." Jaune mumbled, almost unable to count his pulse with how quickly his heartbeat. Snapping his fingers, he performed the simplest Reanimation rite, one of the few rites he knew that didn't need any preparation and was cast instantly.
Opening his journal, he flipped to the section that kept all his medical records, which was what the rite did. Creating a record of exactly how his body was at this point in time. Something he had begun keeping track of ever since delving deeper into the Reanimation aspect. Both out of curiosity, and to figure out what blood echo infusion did to his body. Knowing only disaster would follow if he began creating rituals mimicking how his attributes increased without knowing the process behind it.
'If I only had done this before accepting the blood.' Jaune thought to himself while navigating to his newest record. Ignoring the feeling of uncertainty that sprouted in the back of his mind. Almost as if he was forgetting something. Shaking that feeling away, a hollow sigh escaped him. An ethereal chill tickling his neck as he felt the ghosts peak over his shoulder. "A blood pressure of two forty over one fifty and a bpm of two forty while my inner temperature is a nice forty-seven Celsius. And I feel fine."
"Am I even human anymore?" He mussed absentmindedly, breaking the silence that had fallen over him. 'Is this what Gehrman meant when he warned me about not becoming the same thing we hunted?' Jaune tough to himself, running a finger over what his record said. Still not entirely sure how to feel about how his muscles seemingly consisted of six different types of fibres. But that seemed almost comical compared to everything else. It wasn't the first time he read over how his body had changed, but he usually glossed over it. Casting the spell out of habit and to get data for when he attempted to create an attribute boosting ritual of his own. After discovering that the shape of his red blood cells had changed to pyramids, he had glossed over the rest.
"I always thought Gehrman meant that in a 'stare into the abyss and the abyss stares back' sense. But maybe it was in a 'only a beast can hunt beast's' way he meant it." Jaune whispered to himself. Pages crumpling in his grips as he held them with all his might. The pages tearing slightly before he managed to calm himself. Fiery red slithering in the corner of his vision. "I hate this spell."
Sighing, Jaune missed the days where he was ignorant. While everything Yharnam had to offer had scared him half to death, he had still been human. Now, the more he discovers, the more he learns, the more he can't but help feel less and less human. Be it in becoming alienated from those around him, or simply in the physical sense. There was one thing to joke about being immune to small arms, it was another thing to feel it. A bullet had panged against his temple inside the train, and he hadn't noticed it until it had clinked against the ground. A knife had broken through his garb but didn't even draw blood when it cut him.
'Now that I think about it. The only reason my aura feels so brittle against the Cleric Beasts, is because they weight two tonnes and throw around their weight with abandon.'
Snaping his journal shut; he slid it into its pocket. Doing his best to ignore how it burned against his pocket. 'I miss the days everything was simple.'
"Please be a dear and return to my shadow, won't you?" Jaune ordered as kindly and politely as he could. Giving the trio of Queenly spirits that peeked over his shoulder a gentle smile. The oldest spectre coming out of his shadow, maybe a year or two older than him, and gave the younger spectres a single glare.
Jaune didn't miss how one of the younger Queenly spirits shoot her 'sister's' a mischievous glance before quickly placing chaste kiss on his cheeks. Giggling innocently as she darted back into his shadow. The grudges clinging onto her almost gone when she disappeared. Jaune stood stoically as multiple cold spectral lips kissed his cheeks. A little smile on his lips, for one gentle moment the winter winds were replaced by warm walls and the smell of freshly baked pie.
A soft smile on his face, breathing out and feeling how his shoulder's lost the tension. Noticing how his shadow seemed just a tad bit lighter. The young girl who first kissed his check having passed on. Only for a crimson brand to flash in the air, blood dripping from nowhere as a harsh wail pierced through the air. Black and crimson fire surrounded the young spirit as she was forced back into the world of the living. Her nails sharp, her eyes black pits, her hair dancing madly as she screamed.
Before she could transform fully, Jaune quickly wrapped her in a hug. Bringing up his aura in a soothing manner as the festering grudges were lulled to sleep together with the spirit. The eldest spirit quickly coming and gently wrapping her sleeping 'sister' in a hug before retreating into his shadow.
"Avenge us."
'Free us.'
Royality didn't beg, but Jaune heard the plea clear as day. For a split second he saw the Eldest's Queen's other eye, always hidden by her hair, a black pit that surged and writhed like a thousand slithering snakes stared back.
Again the winter's night was broken by a banshees wail. Crocea Mors announcing the beginning of her bloody work with a terrible scream. Her once yellow fuller shining a soft crimson. Gentle flakes of snow evaporating into mist the second they landed on her form.
Snow crunched under his boots as he marched up the staircase. An inferno roaring to life inside him with every step. Stepping through the archway, he was only greeted with silence.
On a frozen throne sat a corpse with its head hung low. It was completely mummified, nothing but a shrivelled husk dressed in once lustrous robes. It's crown completely frozen to its scalp. A scythe-pike leaned against the right side of the frozen throne, while a sword rested against his left. The telltale sound of cracking ice rang out as a finger twitched.
Cracking ice echoed out again and again as the frozen husk twitched. It's head snapping up, empty socket's falling onto him. "WAHAUGHAG!"
Thunder echoed. Gold and rubies glittered in the sky as the crown flew. The headless corpse falling straight back onto its frozen throne. It's scythe falling from its limp finger's. Clinking against the rooftop, gliding down the side before catching itself on the railing.
With a soft thud, the crown landed in the snow before him. A hollow silence falling over the rooftop. Holstering the revolver, Jaune bent down to pick it up. Eyes instantly shooting up towards the headless mummy, over a thousand horrifying wails piercing the night.
A single silvery spectre draped in heavy grudges shot out from the headless corpse. A second, a third, a fourth. It was like the stopper had been pulled out. Before he knew it, a river of silver coloured in heavy miasma and thick with grudges shot out from the corpse like a broken fountain.
"Logarius. What did you do." Jaune whispered horrified. The winter winds were coloured an ungodly mixture of red and black. A vortex of tormented souls swirled in the sky. The more Jaune looked, the more horrified he grew. Charred remains of children that still burned with spectral fire. Women bruised and battered. Men ripped apart with intestines trailing behind them. It never ended, the longer he looked, the more he saw. The more Jaune came to understanding the full extent of the churches' cruelty.
In the blink of an eye, a spirit fell from the sky, racing towards him like a comet. Causing a chain reaction, other hateful spirits racing down from the sky towards him. And for a moment, the sky fell. The river in the sky coming crashing down with the grudges of everyone tortured by the church's mad dogs in Cainhurst. Holding Crocea Mors protectively out before him, he braced as the river crashed into him.
Blinding flashes raced through his mind, memories and emotions not his own crashing into him. Tongues of smoke burned his nostrils; fire consumed his vision as he felt himself thrown onto a pyre. The memory shattering as he felt sharp spike of fear, a scream bubbled in his throat as a Logarius wheel came down to turn his skull into minced meat. Another memory crashing into him as fire raced up his guts, his vision fluttering for half a second as two strong hands wrapped around his neck.
Gasping for air, Jaune lost track of time. Memories upon memories of violence, each death more gruesome than the last, flashing through him. Melding together until he didn't know what was what. Everything was just pain, hurt, disgust, and hate. From the common folk that lived in the township, whose only crime was being born on the island. To noble ladies, both old and young aristocrat's beaten to death and ripped apart to the sound of holy prayers.
Falling to one knee, tears not his own streamed down his face. Shimmering glimmers of gold floated around him as he struggled to catch his breath. Physically exhausted in a way that coulndt be described in words.
"How can someone be so cruel?" He whispered, his voice a raspy breath. A hollowness in his voice, anger sparking to life inside him. "If this is the legacy of the church. Then I don't wish to bear it." Jaune spat, lifting his partner and slamming her down with all his might into his left palm. Gold flashed in his eyes, a burning pain shoot through him as the gold moved as if alive. Growing thorns to protect itself, not caring if it grew spikes inside his hand.
Biting down on his tongue, he felt spikes pierced through muscle and flesh. Piercing through bone and shredding nerves as needles of gold pierced out through his skin. Never in his life had gold felt so tainted.
Before he could smash down at the accursed locket again, the shimmering gold around him surged. Disappearing into the locket and taking the needles with them. The gold surged and danced in his flesh, links of golden chains pulled out from his flesh and hung freely. The pain bringing with it just as much relief, before he knew it, the locket's long chain dangled from his hand. The only reason the locket didn't clatter against the snow was how it was halfway melded into in his hand. One deep diagonal line trailing over it horizontally, golden blood oozing from the locket. Disappearing into the wounds on his hand before he could wipe it away.
"What are you?" Jaune whispered, frowning as he stared at the locket's chain coming up to wrap around his wrist. However instead of searing into his flesh, it only tightened until it was comfortably wrapped around his wrist. "That doesn't help you. Your legacy is not one I wish to bear." Yet, it was one he was forced to bear until he found a way to get it off. No matter how much he detested it.
Tightening his grip around his partner, a crazy idea ran through him, but he quickly shelved it. Just because he could quickly reattach limbs, didn't that mean he wanted to cut off his wrist. There were other, less radical, steps he could do before that.
Shaking his head, he held his partner up before him. He had always thought that, whenever people mentioned that weapon had aura's, that they were full of shit. A weapon was a weapon. Nothing more, nothing less.
A malicious aura fell of his partner. There was no other way to properly explain it. She looked exactly the same, her fuller was still bleeding from yellow into red, her handle purple instead of blue. Her guard had long since turned sharp, and her pommel was a diamond instead of being flat. But those were all changes that happened due to fortifying her. Yet, she radiated maliciousness, pain and misery clung to her even as he held her in his hand. Her noble splendour replaced with malice.
"This city really hasn't been kind to us, have it partner." Jaune whispered gently, running a gentle finger over her fuller. A surge of something radiating from the handle. Cold, hard, cruel and callous, but a spark of something that could never be put out.
Shaking his head, he stepped forward. Bending down and grabbing the crown. Running his thumb over the jewels, disgust welled up inside him as he looked over to Logariuses headless corpse. Out of all the spirits that had crashed into him, one had been missing. Going over to the throne, he moved the crown under his arm. Grabbing the two amulets around its neck and pulling. Ignoring the rustling sound behind him.
Compared to the Vicar necklace, these amulets were decked out in gold and precious stones. Turning one over, he ran his thumb over the gilded wheel on the backside. "A righteous destiny, huh. There is nothing righteous in wanton slaughter."
Resolve hardened in his chest; a pathetic whine escaped from the headless corpse. What was left of Logarius refusing to pass on. "If… if this wretched amulet makes me Vicar. Then… with what little power invested in me. I strip you of your titles. From now on and evermore you will be Logarius. Nothing more, nothing less."
At his declaration, specks of gold danced around Logarius. The corpse turning to dust as the wind blowed. The snow crunched behind him; a heavy thud rang out through the night. The executioner falling to his knees, a heartbroken piercing wail screamed through the night. Logariuses ashes drifting against the wind, gently drifting over Jaune's shoulder and dancing around fallen executioner.
"What have you done." The voice was rasped out, choked full of tears. Turning around, Jaune stared at the broken and crying form of his once friend. A Logarius Wheel rested by his side, the white-grey executioner garb stained with soot and blood. Bitemarks littered his arms, the golden cone he wore bent and tarnished. Lifted up by trembling hands, falling into the snow without a single sound.
Alfred reached out to the drifting ashes with trembling hands, scoping some of the drifting scraps into his hand and holding it tightly around his chest. Tears freely falling from his eyes as he turned to glare at Jaune. Eyes red, pupils seemingly dancing, mending and shattering in a violent dance. "Why!? Why deny Master Logarius his righteous martyrdom?"
"There is nothing righteous in the wanton slaughter of innocent people." Jaune replied flatly. Smiling softly to himself, knowing where this was heading.
"Innocent? There were no innocents." Alfred snarled back, forcing himself up and hefting his wheel onto his shoulder. "Not when these people dared to usurp our hegemony over the blood. Have you not seen the vileness scattered about? Everything they worship is an affront to our faith. Can you not see it?"
"All I see is blind faith and zeal." Jaune breathed out. Rolling his shoulders as the winter winds blew. "The sins of the Queen are many, yet the entirety of her subjects shouldn't have to pay for her crimes. They are hers, and hers alone to atone for. Just like Laurance is responsible for his sins… And I am responsible for my own."
"Are you hearing yourself? Have you gone mad?" Alfred spat, tears streaming down his face as he panted for breath. Anger twisting his otherwise handsome features into a grotesque mask of rage and barley restrained bloodlust. His mutton chops seemingly growing as Alfreds chest rose and fell. "My Friend. And I call you that out of respect for the man you are. What foul sorcery has the vile Queen cast over you to doubt yourself like this."
"There is no sorcery put upon me." Jaune replied staunchly.
"Do it~" A soft whisper rang through the silence, only broken occasionally by Alfreds rapidly breathing. The Viscount standing behind the executioner, leaning over his shoulder. Having appeared as a spectre in the night. "You have held it together long enough. Your fathers desecrated spirits is tormented under his boots. His entire existence is an afront to your faith. Let go. Show us what beast you are."
"Be gone foul devil!" Alfred screamed, swinging his wheel around him in retaliation. A stifled gasp of pain escaping him at his violet movement. His free hand coming up to his collar bone. A sharp inhale almost sending him to his knees.
Jaune stood impassively, staring flatly at Alfred fought to get his feet under himself. A man he had once liked to call friend staring at him with nothing but spite fuelled by blind zeal. Holding the crown in his hand and running a thumb over the precious gems imbedded in the gold, Jaune felt twenty years older. "Having Isolde give you the letter was a mistake. I should just have given you the crown and be done with it."
"I'm afraid I can't allow you to leave with that crown, Vicar. Neither with your life for that matter." The Viscount called out with a gentlemanly drawl. "The fuel might be gone; the enchantment might be weakened. But unless the anchor is properly destroyed, my righteous Queen will still be trapped outside our realm."
"So we are on the same page, it would seem." Jaune replied plainly. "You see, I also have business with your body snatching cunt of a whore Queen." Tasting the words in his mouth, he shook his head. "But apologies, that's improper of me. I have more respect for whores honestly."
"Understandable." The Viscount replied elegantly. "One should always hold their parents in high regard."
"However, before we start going at each other like dogs. There is one thing I'm curious about. Indulge me if you wish, but what Queen is it you owe your loyalty too?" Jaune asked. "Annalise?" As the name left his lips, an ethereal chill went down his spine. Small spectral arms wrapping around his neck. "Alexandra?" A small form hid behind him, bravely poking her head out behind him. "Maybe Henrietta? Isabella? Victoria?"
For each name he uttered another spectre rose from his shadow, clinging to him, their nails digging into him. Miasma rose around him, grudge filled screams were carried away on the wind as the menacing aura around his blade grew darker.
"Oh dear, what have you done now?" The Viscount chided, elegantly drawing his blade and stepping forward. "You went poking around things that don't concern you Vicar. But if you want to know my loyalty? I proudly serve Queen Elizabeth, first of her name, divine consort, first born daughter of a new age, and rightful Queen of all Yharnam. If someone must perish for her vision to come true, then well, it would be a noble fate."
"Big words for someone who wanted to replace her." Jaune snapped back.
"But of course, if the current vessel is lacking. It's simply proper to change to a new one won't you say?" The Viscount replied elegantly, no hesitation in his voice.
"No. No. NO!" Alfred howled. Manic fury clinging to him as he hefted his wheel onto his shoulder. Fury racing through him, his eyes collapsing as flesh and blood surged and twisted underneath his robe. "The Father will have his dignity in martyrdom. His legacy will be a proud memory of the church. I'm sorry my friend, but I need that crown. And if I have to take it from your beaten and broken corpse, then so be it."
"Then it seems we are all at an impasse." Jaune said, holding his crown in his hand. The younger spirits clinging closer to him and hiding while the older stared down at The Viscount and Alfred in disdain.
"What impasse?" Alfred growled, a beastly snarl sounding from his throat. "I just have to kill you and be done with it."
Breathing out easily, Jaune surged aura into his hand and clenched. The large crown bending miraculously, piercing rays of crimson shone through the gaps in his fingers as he freely pumped more and more aura into his hand. Opening it for a simple mote of crimson light to rise. Rising at a gentle pace, yet in the blink of an eye a crimson moon shone down on them.
The winter winds completely gone, a giant chapel appearing behind him. The red moon hung in the sky above them, cradled by clouds of silver. Ethereal spider lilies danced to an invisible song, rising from the gentle mist that had suddenly appeared. The spirits behind him grew restless, everyone from the youngest to the oldest transforming into restless banshees. Waiting only for his call to dart forward and rip anyone apart.
"Oh, the threat of horror, the hope of crimson cries."
Jaune dodged under the Viscounts lighting fast lunge. Parrying to the side as he waltzed around Alfred's thunderous blow. A roar more akin to a beast escaping him as he lunged again, wildly swinging the wheel around with nothing but blood frenzied strength.
"One thing at least is certain – that this life flies."
The moon shone brighter as he chanted. Sending the burning inferno inside him into a furious wrath that threatened to swallow him whole.
One of the younger banshees launched itself from him, screaming as she raced towards Alfred. Moving to gut him with her claws, hellbent on painting the snow red with his blood. Only for Alfred to spin his wheel, the shriek of trapped souls momentarily rooting her to the spot. The wheel smashing into her face, shattering her form like glass. Dozen ghastly skulls shooting out from the wheel and biting harshly into her form and tearing her apart.
"One thing is certain, and the rest is lies,"
The Viscount ran his palm over his blade, swinging and sending a wave of blood racing towards him. Dodging under it, the frozen throne behind him was cut apart seamlessly. The Viscount's offensive growing into a wicked dance. Blades of blood racing towards him from any angle. Halting the moment Alfred came lunging forward wildly. Exploding, his garb tearing as a large clawed hand wildly raced through the air.
The werewolf growled, the hundred faces protruding from it's chest, side and back screamed. A mad howl escaping it's throat, what had once been Alfred threw itself forward. Claws wrapped in thick miasma, ethereal spider lilies growing after his every step. Spinning around to dodge, one of the faces protruding from it's side screamed at Jaune. Blood trickling down from his ears. The ghastly wail almost forcing him to bite his tongue and stop the chant.
"The flower that once has bloomed forever dies."
An oppressive silence fell under the crimson moon. Invisible winds picked up, causing the gentle mist to dance to a grim tune. Black and red miasma exploded from Crocea Mors while drops of red fell from the crying moon. The grudges of an entire people joining the chorus of the damned souls that was bound to her. Silence settled over Jaune, crystal clear focus laced with bloodlust and duty making it easy to ignore how his body burned.
Throwing out a slash of his own, grudge filled apparitions raced forward. Invisibly passing through Alfred and taking with them a chunk of vitality. The giant werewolf howling as it grew even wilder.
"My my, so this is who you truly are." The Viscount replied gleefully. Gracefully dancing between Jaune's stabs. Each swing of his blade sending a spurt of cursed blood out from nowhere, drowning the malevolent apparitions. "We are all monsters here, Vicar. Why pretend otherwise?"
Jaune didn't reply, lunging forward blade held high.
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Note: Violet's horse girl arc came and went. Rip horsey, you will be missed.
Note: Yes, it's the brand of sacrifice from berserk. Thought it was fitting, and it fits.
Note: And before someone gets mad. Yes, jaune's semblance isn't Aura Amp. That isn't me wanting to nerf him, but that my Jaune isn't cannon Jaune. This isn't the Jaune that is always too late, never good enough, lacking in everything but Aura. No matter how short, Yharnam have permanently scarred his soul, making it more than a justified reason for him to have something else.
Note: Violet, "Something is wrong in the force, as if someone is trying to steal my dad."
Note: Shoot them before they finish getting up. A quip I have with most FromSoftware games. I love them. But for the love of everything holy. Why don't you do anything when they are preoccupied? Just shot the bastards.
Last Note, promise: All of Logariouse's strength, comes from the grudges of others. It's what boosts the wheel, it's what his entire second phase revolve around. Without them, I can't imagine a frozen zombie having much in the ways of power. Not to mention this mini arc have never been about him.