| 5th of Teryusin — Year 362 of the Cycle of Synthesis, Grand Cycle ??? |
It started with a voice.
Warm and gentle, like a mother’s. It coaxed her every step forward of the way, seemingly like ambrosia to an insect. Any sane person would have dismissed it as a plain oddity, but Idri could not, for it endlessly echoed his name wherever she went. No matter the time or place the whispers would always sound like they were being whispered directly into her ears.
She decided enough was enough after two months. Under the cover of the night, she breached the exits of Avil’s estate. On and on she followed the voice, dragging her feet forward. She ignored the hunger and coldness that began to creep up on her, gritting her teeth. When the distant lights of torches entered her vision, she would seek solace in the darkness, biding her time as the footsteps gradually disappeared. The voice didn’t relent. Its tone eased at her willingness to follow, but only ever grew louder. The hushed silence of the night didn’t do well to muffle them, either.
Long it led, across empty streets and darkened alleyways. Hidden behind the half-crumbled concrete stairway that led beneath the road, Idri exhaled a heavy breath to pace herself. Her fingers crinkled and her toes curled at the ominous aura that loomed inside the darkness, but she braced herself and ran forward headstrong.
No ambushes. Her heart rate shot up at the creaking of a distant bench. No one was around. She flicked her wrist outward, conjuring a small yellow flame devoid of heat. A stable brightness enveloped her, lighting up much of the area close.
Three minutes of pacing brought her to the train platform proper. Much like the rest of the station, it was old and worn by the passage of time. Here, this way, the voice murmured once more. She shifted her head in the direction, and then took a few seconds to gather more courage. Compared to the initial dive, she was much more prepared and didn’t allow the atmosphere to dissuade her from moving forward. All was void in her mind; all she wanted was to finally find the source of the voice so that it would leave her alone.
Thirty minutes of barefooted trekking. She had learned about halfway in through the journey that it was much easier on her feet to use the subway track as a foothold, thus sparing her the “ouch-es” and “ow-s” that were more prominent in the first ten minutes. By then, the soles of her feet were sore from the sharp rocks, and her pace had slowed to two-thirds of what it was before. Her throat was parched already from the now-hour she had been out of the estate, but she pushed herself to continue, wanting no more than to find the voice.
Narrow tunnels eventually gave way to the endless lit ceiling of Under Buril. Shining in the far upper of the ceiling twinkled an innumerable number of stars, each one giving off enough light to keep the entire place at a comfortable and warm light intensity.
She too saw the houses, and she spent much more time eagerly talking to the residents. Somehow like a magnet she gravitated to each one, and there was not one Under Burilan who wasn’t immediately taken with her and offered to provide for her. When she asked, they were more than eager to lay out their respective stories and the story of Under Buril itself.
“There were people down here too!” she said to one.
It took far too long for her to convince the residents that she had to leave. The momentary warmth of soft companionship was just enough for her to ignore the voice. She obviously couldn’t put it off forever, so by the time the next batch of miners had left to replace those that were finishing their shifts, she had to bid farewell to her caretakers and continue.
Her journey would find its end behind the property of an old, worn down cabin, completely empty and without its residents. Unlike the rugged, hefty carved homes of most of the Under Burilans, the one she had stopped at boasted a foundation of stable wooden logs. Its inside was furnished moderately well, containing dozens of modern furniture and appliances used by the Burilans from the surface. In a place as devoid of trees as the underground, it was no less a surprise than what she would find in its dumpster.
There was no bright, guiding light that pointed to the finish line for her. Rather, it was the intense smell of nostalgia and old memories that hypnotised her and caused her to investigate. Her eyes widened as she pulled open the lid of the metal dumpster, instantly dragging along the length of a sword that was almost as tall as her.
Thick, sharp, and gray in color: its three most prominent features. A hilt long enough to support both her fists wrapped around its leather surface. Leading this was a blade almost as thick as the width of her wrists, with a sizable portion of said blade snapped off to create a truly broken sword. There was no thought behind Idri’s actions. Her hands reached for the sword, unwittingly leaving a graze on her left hand that dripped with blood. It was sharp, unreasonably so. How could a blade that looked about ready to keel over and shatter in one swing be so edged?
When her fingers finally tightened around the hilt, a single worded name shot itself into her mind, implanting directly deep into her memories the very name of the sword like it was some kind of divine law uttered by the gods and made to be followed.
“Kranstor”, it was called. It did not speak, but Idri could sense a latent intelligence stemming from its blade. Eyes that weren’t there earlier blurred into life on the blade, staring deep into her very presence like it was analyzing her. Then, a firm clang, like the slam of an iron hammer against an anvil. Words unknown and too incomprehensible to her mind assaulted her head, bombarding endlessly with no hope for reprieve. The essence of the mysterious was watching. And it was satisfied. Finally, the sound of a stamp printing its mark on paper.
“Ah…!”
It was too much for her. Idri yelped, releasing the blade and causing it to fall to the floor harmlessly. But by then, she knew. Something had changed, and the sword had done something she hadn’t agreed to.
She hadn’t opened her eyes since that day.
She didn’t want to hear those screams any longer. Were there truly that many ways to mutilate a person? And why, oh why? Why did it always choose to show those three? It held a special attachment to Raoul in particular. The horrors those visions unfolded day after day in her eyes were beyond traumatizing. To even witness what was out there was asking the impossible, but to have to watch her lose her friends to the most heinous and despicable deaths imaginable?
It was better to keep her eyes closed, she thought.
Come walk with me through fields of gold,
His steps were rushed and heavy. Raoul didn’t want to waste even a single second. He cursed under his breath, pushing past the dozens of working miners that were just about heading home for the day. Her voice was still so far, but he could hear it. That song.
“Idri… where are you!?” shouted Raoul, his air failing him.
The kind of place where warmth is told,
“I know… it’s been so long.”
Three shadows trail where one path bends,
“And… I know I’ve gone and left you three.”
And light returns where lost light ends.
“But… but…”
The quiet one who sees the sky,
The jagged silhouettes of the stone homes were disappearing behind him. Raoul didn’t care. He bolted across the carved road with all of his remaining stamina. To her, maybe it was a daily occurrence at that point. To be so apathetic even as she cut down the lives of multiple men… It was a stark contrast to the gentle Idri all those years ago.
The steady one who wonders why,
“I’m back now…! And… I want to fly. With you! With the others!”
The sharp one keeps the pace we set,
In the distance rose a startling mass of pure stone shaped in a flat, one-floor square. Covered from all directions with the unfeeling exterior of the mineral. A single door, opened and swaying in the wind, was inviting him forward. That was the Goldstone Gang’s hideout. Now wasn’t the time to falter. He was going to find out for himself what had changed. He gathered all the strength left in his bones and forced himself to run faster.
And none of us have stumbled yet.
Even the rocks seemed to understand his hurry. Each pebble and stone made itself scarce, leaving him a perfectly paved path to sprint down like the end of a relay race. The wind, too, was on his side. It offered no resistance to his determination, instead blowing against his back to give him the little boost he needed to make time.
But one walks first and one walks true,
He slammed the door fully open. Instantly he scanned the entire room, eyebrows widening at the mass of dead bodies that littered the fur carpets. There were two common points in each of the dead bodies. No matter the position they were in at their time of death, all their weapons were half-drawn out of their sheaths and their throats were slit in one clean slice.
Perhaps there was still time. Their bodies were warm. Raoul continued onward, following the distinct trail of blood that was guiding him through the long, winding hallways of the base like the North Star. His face darkened at the amount of corpses that littered the rooms, and he could see from just a single cursory glance that the destruction was surgical. Anyone who stood in her way was cut down without reprieve.
The road ahead was made for you,
Her voice was getting closer. By then, there were only about a handful of rooms before it sounded like she was in the same one he was in. His fingers clenched tightly in his fists, almost drawing blood from the force.
Come find me where the wheat fields sway,
There she was.
The far end of the distinctly rectangular room was decorated in countless portraits of clear monetary worth. Leading straight to it was an empty red carpet, lengthy beyond good reason. At the edges of the room were dozens more of bleeding corpses, some still spasming from the abrupt end granted to them.
And standing just a few feet away from the ornate, golden throne modeled for a king was a girl a few inches shorter than Raoul. Her long, flowing white hair dragged on behind her back, reaching past her waist and ending just above her knees. Each lock was tangled in another, cutting off in awkward parts and wrapping around itself in weird angles. Splotches of red coated her tresses in crimson, exuding a deeply metallic smell that brought itself even to Raoul who was at the threshold of the room.
Seated on the very throne itself was a muscled man twice Idri’s size, sporting a golden mane of his own and an impressive beard to follow with it. Said man was shivering, and his arms were raised high above his head in a gesture of surrender.
To his neck was the broken edge of a longsword, primed and ready to sever his soul from his body with one single slash. The grip on its hilt was tight, held only in one hand by Idri.
“W-wait! I surrender! You can take everything I have! My gold, my treasures! I know, I’ll pay the villagers back! Just don’t kill me!”
Eyelids still curtained over her pupils tightly, Idri’s left eyebrow shifted slightly upwards. The last line of the song hadn’t been uttered yet.
I saved your spot. Don't go away.
Raoul preemptively raised a hand out and shouted to stop her. “Idri…! Wait!”
There was no response. A single clean swipe flitted across the boss’ throat, and gushing spurts of blood arced outward like a fountain. Its momentum was strong, starting with a high arc that covered Idri’s face in the crimson. Soon it drooped down, darkening the single, long black robe she was wearing.
Raoul turned silent. His teeth clamped down on his tongue, and a curse unlike his normal couldn’t help but let itself free. “...Shit.”
That second instance was enough to draw her attention.
“...that voice…”
Her hand released its grip on the blade, and it fell to the ground in a muffled slam. Slowly she stepped, hands stretched outwards like a child on its first steps making its way to its beckoning mother.
Meanwhile, Raoul couldn’t find the heart to look at her. Not to mention the disturbing amount of blood, both new and dried on her features, there was also the indifference she displayed as she mercilessly murdered a man while humming her song.
He hadn’t noticed it, but she was in front of him within five seconds. A cold, empty iciness pressed against his cheeks as her hands held him. “...Raoul? Is that you?”
“Yeah. It’s me. I found you.”
Tears left the sides of her still-closed eyes. It was like the downpour of a storm, starting off slow and then immediately cascading into torrential rain. She didn’t mind the look it gave her, for she was too overcome with emotion.
“Yes… Yes! You found me!”