Iridus picked up the large tome that sat atop the lectern in front of him. It was emblazoned with gold ribbon and had undoubtedly meant a lot to the lesser beings of this settlement. He opened it and traced the words with one finger, "The Book of Eridoria, Chapter of the First Dawn… In a time before time. There was a place known as 'the beginning'. It was a place—"
"—Nah, fuck that" he spat as he closed the book in his hands, "what a load of shit."
His thick gauntleted hands crushed the spine and the flimsy pages fell around him. He looked out ahead, dust and rubble filling his vision as the cathedral-like structure fell around him. Tendrils of shadow embedded themselves like vines across the stonework.
The screaming had stopped at least, he hated it when the vermin kept squealing. Large spikes of earth and stone pierced through the slabbed flooring and each held an impaled figure at the end of it, the spikes were over a dozen foot tall and embedded the vermin with foot long trunks.
He grimaced at how utterly pathetic they were. Them and their 'Gods'. None of it would remain, that much had been decreed. He didn't fully understand why they had sent him—it would've taken minutes for the Elders.
"Well, I guess a few decades here is fine. I just wish they weren't all so dull—"
His mutterings were cut off as he heard a groan from the broken pews below him. "—Really?" he grunted as he dropped the tome and raised his right hand.
Crimson mist flowed from his palm and formed into a long cylindrical formation of smoke—that solidified within a fraction of a second: A long sinewy, bone like spear emerged; tinted with a red hue. He flicked his wrist and without hesitation the meters long spear thrust through the air with a clap as space was rent asunder.
The squeal became a short scream—that quickly cut off altogether as he felt the pathetic forms essence flow into the air.
[Order Acolyte Slain x 1]
[Total Order Acolytes Slain x 174]
He grunted as he dismissed the notifications instinctively. Then pulled up his Quest screen.
[Quest Objective Completed: Eliminate the Order Chapter - Chapter of the Ironfang 1/1]
The man smiled contentedly to himself as he dismissed the final notification and began to stroll out of the crumbling cathedral, hands in his pockets.
-break-
Elias's boot crunched down against the leaf mat of the forest floor as he moved deftly through the dense overgrowth. Canopies of the tall trees cast long shadows over what would usually be a vibrant array of flowering flora.
"This had better be worth it—"Elias muttered to himself as he pushed an overhanging branch out of the way, "—Why does that old man always get me to do the dirty work?"
He was sent by his mentor and guardian, Jacob, to gather a number of herbs—an ordinary and rather dull task, one that anyone could complete. Unfortunately, he was that 'anyone'. He was Unawakened and the sole apprentice of the only adventurer in Haven's Point. Which was not all that it was made out to be, it usually involved long lectures, vigorous exercise and a plethora of mundane taskings.
In a fashion befitting the seventeen-year-old that he was, Elias continued his complaints aloud; "And for whatever reason, Jacob doesn't seem to be the only one with something against me today," He gestured his hands in the air as he continued to move further into the dense forest. "Why is it so damn cold?!"
And—it wasn't just cold; it was quiet, unusually still and altogether quite unnerving. It was late springtime, and he was accustomed to the overbearing humidity that he was so used to experiencing, more than that, the normal flowering bloom of the forest was nowhere to be seen.
Elias pulled himself back to the most pressing thing on his mind, the festival.
The upcoming festival—due to take place that evening in Haven's Point was a tradition that took place all over the Empire—and; for the last five years, in Haven's Point. It was a tradition that happened wherever an Aberration attack had occurred and resulted in the deaths of the inhabitants of a village, hamlet or town.
In the past decade, most, if not all, frontier villages of the Empire upheld the tradition of the festival.
Elias shook his head as his thoughts returned to the present. As much as he wanted to be at the festival, and as much as he needed the festival, it served as a painful reminder. He stood unmoving for a few moments as he threw away the last lingering thoughts with a whispered breath, "I miss you."
He pushed his melancholy aside and redoubled his efforts through the trees, minutes passed as he clambered over oversized roots and brushed past thick branches in his path, he continued this way until he reached a large clearing. His chest thumped.
"What…What is that?" He said as he stared ahead, his eyes transfixed on the crimson haze in front of him. "He-Hello?"
Nothing, there was no response. A cold shiver ran down Elias's spine as his mind raced.
In the clearing ahead was a large twisted and mostly decayed oak tree, surrounded by a crimson mist. It was thick and seemed to pulse like the beat of a heart, just looking at it caused his chest to tighten.
He felt a pressure bearing down on him from all sides. "It's not worth it… I think I'll get the herbs another ti—"
Elias.
The sound echoed in his mind and he winced as pain shot through his skull, Elias doubled down and grasped his head with both hands, "Agh! What wa—"
…Elias.
Again, his own name rang out in his mind. It sent waves of pain throughout his skull, as if his mind would explode. Worse than any migraine he'd ever had. The mass of mist had begun to condense. It swarmed into a shape. A figure. Elias narrowed his eyes as the crimson form began to take on the features of a woman. The hourglass figure was quickly followed by details on the emerging face—a small, pointed nose, lips curved into a reassuring smile, and eyes—her eyes. Elias gasped as he called out through the pain "Mum?!"
It can't be, can it? She was… she was dead. She died five years ago. It didn't matter—those eyes, they were her eyes. He called out again; "MUM?!"
I'm here. Elias.
The voice—it was hers, but at the same time, it wasn't. The noise pierced through his entire skull as he reached out towards her.
Thump!
His chest lurched—like a beat of his heart, but it came from the centre of his chest. It wasn't his own heartbeat.
Thump!
Again, it pulsed—The crimson form of his mother moved closer—The pain in his head pushed deeper into the recesses of his mind.
The crimson mist was now so condensed that it would have been wrong to call it a mist at all. It almost looked like a solid entity, the features of his mother so clear to him now. "Why are you here?! Ah-h! What do you—"
Elias couldn't even finish his sentence before the physical space in front of him seemed to crack. A haze erupted only a couple of feet in front of him, quickly followed by a shattering flash in his vision. Crimson embraced his vision entirely and the form resembling his mother crashed out of the haze, her distorted red form emerging on inches from his face. He gasped as the texture of the crimson now filled his vision, tendrilled sinewy layers of solidified red entwined like a corrupted willow sculpture forming a twisted replica of what was so sacred to him.
He tried to scream but his voice was cut off as the reassuring smile of his deceased mother curved upwards and the entire forest around his shattered from his sight.
THUMP!
Darkness surrounded him, he could feel his own body. But he couldn't see anything, he couldn't hear anything. There was only an ominous pressure that bore down around him as the space in his chest pulsed harder and faster than before—he could feel something there, something emerging from within him.
A blast of crimson erupted from his own body as a flash of the crimson entity appeared—her hand placed on his chest—in less than a moment, the entity thrust forward towards him. His chest pulsed in a wave, and a shocking force burst out in all directions.
The light faded as quickly as it came, the epicentre of the colour residing within him.
The darkness of his vision distorted like reflection on rippling water as he felt himself drawn into a maelstrom of images; Haven's Point, their village. Thatched roofs, timber-clad walls, the off-white apron his mother used to wear hanging down over her plain dress as the true form of his mother leaned down towards him.
He listened to her soft voice as he found himself encapsulated in the idyllic scene from his childhood. Her features were clear this time, her voice bounding with patience and care as she spoke to him in words his younger self couldn't understand at the time.
Just as quickly as the images appeared, they faded, replaced with something else, something just as familiar. It was—immediately, Elias knew where it was. It was five years ago; this was where it had happened, where it had all begun.
His resurgent memories and the scene around him began to merge as reality played events of the past back to him.
He was sitting outside their small home as his mother crushed herbs with her mortar and pestle. Elias had felt something off as the day had worn on, there was an unnatural tension in the air. An oppressive heaviness that seemed to encase the day in darkness—his mother must have felt it too as he remembered—no, as he saw the worry in her eyes. She tried to hide it with a smile, but he knew better now.
Elias's mind flashed away from the present to the first time he saw them. The figures. On the edge of the village; their shapes distorted and hunched, a deep crimson and purple hue starching their bodies. They had moved unnaturally as if the limbs attached to their torsos didn't belong to them.
His thoughts were of terror as he watched in shock, unable to truly comprehend what he was seeing. Chills creeping into his bones as the figures marched towards his home—screams and guttural roars corralling the landscape as tears fell down his face.
His mothers came into view; her eyes wide with fear, she pushed him back towards inside their house. Her fingers pressed into his shoulders with a desperation that he had nevel felt from her.
She whispered to him, "Hide now, don't move. Sweetie, please, stay here… No matter… No matter what happens."
Elias hid underneath a table; he didn't know why, but the urgency in her voice had enforced obedience to her words. As he hid, he could hear chaos breaking out all around him. He'd peered out, catching glimpses of movement; he'd seen his friends—parts of them — lying across a wrecked road in pools of red, the corrupted creatures sprinting unnaturally towards anything that moved.
He sobbed silently as he witnessed for the second time in his life his mother's final moments. Her steady stance as the Aberrations approached her, her refusal to falter or retreat, and the moment she stole one last look at him—her eyes soft with a silent farewell — as the beast's claws ripped through her body.
The vision cracked like glass, and Elias stumbled forward. His hands grasping his head in pain and shock. His voice shook as he spoke, "What the-What the fuck was that?!"
It's time.
The voice so reminiscent of his mothers hung over him for a long moment, a mix of joy, sorrow, and anger filled him as the malformation of her voice was close enough to stir his emotions, yet so distant that the false impression coursed a torrent of rage throughout his body.
Tears ran freely down his face as he slowly regained himself, his hands exploring the space in his chest where he could feel pressure emanating from. The crimson light had disappeared altogether, but it had done something to him. His chest felt the same as it always had—slightly warm to the touch. He guessed that it was his imagination following the absurd vision that had engulfed him.
"Its time?" he spat, "Time for what?!"
It was more than alarming that the voice of his dead mother was speaking to him—today of all days. More than that, the crimson light was an ominous sign.
"Time to go. The herbs can wait…" Elias finally said as he slowly stepped backwards away from the clearing; after a few meters, he turned and ran.