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B2 Chapter 34: Fratricide
🕑 Added 2025-06-04 03:52:37 +0000 UTCVale watched, as Viveria Brimstone’s eyes bore into her from across Highlady Solastra’s private garden. Caledon’s younger sister looked to be slightly younger than her, with fiery amber hair that was unlike Caledon’s own darker brown.
When Caledon had spoken of his sister to them, he had painted a clear picture of Viveria. She was hot-headed, as quick to anger as she was to cry, and possessed with a fascination for battle.
The perfect combination, seeing as how the black skeleton that trailed Vale in her wake had taken her father’s life.
Well. So much for a relaxing walk to clear my head. It’s back to the room then.
She watched as Caledon visibly winced at his sister’s reaction, and tried to calm her down. Vale just turned, and headed back the way she had come.
After her conversation with Lady Velra had left her head in her knot, she had thought to indulge in an idle curiosity. After all, who wouldn’t be curious as to what the Kindly Gardener’s own private gardens looked like?
All she had been greeted with was a humble garden, sporting the same black roses with edges of gold that had adorned her court. Along with yet another Brimstone that now hated her, of course.
The most intriguing fixture, had been the curious mansion positioned beyond the gardens, in the distance. Vale had often heard her mother speak excitedly of “open-concept” layouts, especially when they had speculated on Soulhaven’s design, prior to reaching the Archcity of Death. She had little doubt that it applied to the mansion, as it gave her a clear view of the occupants revelling within. They brought cups of plentiful golden liquid to their lips which trickled from the corners of their mouth in their enthusiasm.
Vale’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the familiar liquid.
Tranquillity.
The cornerstone that had underpinned the Insane gambit of the great houses, to suppress Fearshaping, and to erase all memory of it throughout the elven population. To put an end to the wars of control that had plagued Elucidor throughout its history.
Don’t tell me she keeps her own Fearshapers suppressed this way… in eternal revelry.
Vale shivered, tearing her eyes away from the scene.
If we cross her… we could end up living the rest of our lives in that mansion, none the wiser.
It was easy to forget Solastra’s strength, with the unassuming image she projected. After her revelations, Vale wondered whether their choice to descend was truly their own. It certainly felt as if the Highlady had a vested interest in their development, a thought that still puzzled her, despite the tantalising mysteries that remained.
What’s so special about us, that has one of the most powerful Fearshapers on Elucidor so invested in our development?
The answers continued to elude her, and Vale was sceptical that the Highlady would be so forthcoming.
---
Vale returned to the room she had been assigned. Mercifully, the Highlady had seen to it that she was staying nowhere near the Brimstone’s rooms, and was instead situated closer to Shiver, Marta, Pov and Blaze.
She let out a soft sigh as she settled onto a soft mattress.
If there was one thing she could appreciate about Solastra’s castle, it was the polar opposite of the Archcity of Death. Perhaps it was to be expected, when the Dreadwood was often termed the Archcity of Life.
Vale stared appreciatively at the vines that covered the walls, sprawling up onto the ceiling high above her. Glowing flowers bloomed, across their surface. Where Marta and Pov’s room contained flowers that glowed silver, bordering on white, hers bore flowers that glowed a deep emerald.
She could feel her eyes droop in the serene, calming atmosphere that they fostered. She slapped her face lightly, in an effort to stave the fatigue off.
The last thing she wanted, was to rush to confront her mother in the nightmare, having obtained her newest invocation from the griefwalker she had felled.
[Insight of the griefwalker]
Vale had puzzled over the nature of their descent through Trepidation.
To her, it had appeared deceptively simple. Slaying creatures to obtain invocations, enabling her to invoke her Fear in simple ways. As Quietus had said, in Trepidation, Fearshapers mimicked, before graduating to true artistry when they languished in Delirium, the next stage of Fear.
What about killing creatures granted them the invocations?
When she had taken the griefwalker’s life, she had experienced a flash of… understanding. Empathy, for what the griefwalker had experienced in life. A moment when she comprehended the nature of the griefwalker’s ability to understand its charges, the undead that it guided to their final rest.
As Quietus had told her, the Witnesses were creatures of death. They had borne her no hatred upon seeing her kill one of their kin. The griefwalkers equally, were surrounded by it.
It can’t be as simple as a loose thematic connection between our Fear and their powers? Could it?
Vale’s mind returned to the invocation she had gained.
[Insight of the griefwalker]
She invoked her Fear, bringing it into reality, as her eyes fell on a black skeleton standing still, in the corner of the room.
She gasped as a nebulous amalgamation of her brother’s will washed over her.
First, came his regret. Vale’s invocation did not assist her in parsing the root of it, however. That, she was left to guess. Perhaps, it was regret for siding with his father in the end, being used as a tool. Perhaps it was depriving a son of his loving father, having glimpsed the anguish on Caledon’s face upon his discovery. Maybe, Triol regretted failing in his ultimate goal – achieving his revenge and killing their father.
Second, hiding tentatively in the midst of his regret, was shame. Vale was more certain about the origin of this emotion. She had little doubt it was born from his own perceived inadequacy. She was no stranger to it herself, the emotion emerging when she was reminded of the futility of their shared goal. Attempting to kill the closest thing to a living embodiment of death on Elucidor.
If regret and shame was all that she discerned, she would have been disappointed in her brother’s self-indulgence as he met his end. The final emotion that overshadowed the others, was what intrigued her.
What [Insight of the griefwalker] had revealed, more than anything, was Triol Revenant’s burning desire for redemption.
It signified that in his final moments, his brother had accepted that he had been wrong. That there was something to be redeemed for. Without further clarity denied to her by [insight of the griefwalker], Vale was lost as to why it burned so brightly.
But its presence alone, was something she could be proud of.
Did Triol deserve a chance, even in death? Vale had decided, that it would not be for her to judge.
It would be up to her brother.
There was one thing that bothered her, however.
In her musings on the nature of Trepidation, her mind turned inevitably to the shape of her own Fear.
Vale’s eyes lingered on her revenants. During her time in the Dreadwood, she had learned more about the nature of her Fearshaping. Unlike her father, who exerted control over his undead, Vale did not control her Revenants. While they generally followed her wishes, they seemed to maintain a degree of autonomy.
Just how much they did… Vale had yet to determine.
It terrified her to the very core.
Vale yawned, as she felt the pull of sleep once more. There was still some time left before dinner was served. The exhaustion of the past few days had caught up to her.
“Better to do it sooner rather than later. Ready Lord Quietus?”
“As ever, my dear charge.”
The twin green flames that flickered in her guide’s hollow eye sockets gave her a measure of reassurance.
Vale returned to her nightmare.
---
Asale Revenant’s room was humble.
Humility, however, was a relative concept. Compared to the village of Drolth where they had lived prior to their arrival at Soulhaven, it would have been considered an abject expression of luxury.
Instead, it contained a simple bed, a moderate dresser for her mother’s clothes, and a plain wooden mirror.
Translucent white curtains blew gently in the wind, sending soft shadows scattering across the room floor. Like her own room, Asale’s had a veranda that peaked out over the chasm beneath Soulhaven, which hung suspended between the ivory cliffs.
From where Vale rose from her mother’s bed, she could see her form beyond the curtains. Asale leaned over the white balustrade, peering into the darkness below, where her father’s hordes languished.
“Mother.”
Asale turned, as if surprised at her daughter’s sudden appearance. Vale’s face was impassive as she took in her mother for the second time.
[Soulsight of the witness] had brought her into her awareness.
Upon reflection, the presence Vale had detected in the hallway of paintings she had visited in her first nightmare upon entry to the Dreadwood had likely been her mother.
Unlike when she was in Anhedonia, now, she had the opportunity to leave her nightmare whenever she wished. She was not trapped in them, as she was when Shiver had shoved her into one of the pods in the academy.
Time to dance with Insanity.
She strode closer to her mother, and as she did, her heartbeat leapt as she detected two insights outpouring from the woman before her.
Happiness.
It flowed from Asale Revenant in droves as her mother rushed forward, pulling her daughter into an embrace. A familiar motion, and Vale struggled to maintain her composure as she was pulled into the nostalgia of her mother’s comforting presence.
The second wasn’t an emotion, but it was the object of her mother’s focus as she clung to her daughter. This, she could have gleaned from a glance at her mother’s eyes alone. What was at the forefront of her mind when she attended to her troublesome, immature children.
Love.
After a long moment, Asale finally pulled away from her, holding her at arms length, as if taking her daughter in, carving her into her memory.
Once more, her mother’s lips moved wordlessly.
“It seems as if [insight of the griefwalker] gives you flashes of insight, but not the capability to fully understand or communicate with souls.”
Vale regarded Quietus, on her shoulder.
“I thought this was supposed to be a nightmare, a figment of my imagination? Could it… truly be her?”
Quietus’ eyes flashed.
“You’re a Fearshaper with a budding mastery over souls, Vale. Just as you bring figments of your ‘imagination’ into being, the same can be said of the inverse. The nightmares that visit you may be based in reality, history even. In this case, this could very well be her soul, attempting to confer with you.”
Vale ignored the implications that awaited in Delirium, instead focusing on her guide’s initial statement. If it truly was her mother, she would struggle to communicate with her, with the simple invocations she currently possessed. She had little doubt that whatever stood before her, it wasn’t an imposter. Unless it was one capable of perfectly encapsulating the curve of her mother’s burgundy smile, or the love that shone from her eyes, reserved for her children.
“Mother… what happened that day. You said father was going to give us a gift.”
Vale paused, as her eyes traced over Asale’s expression carefully.
“We awakened as Fearshapers of death, just as father wished.”
The silence drew on between them, before Vale delivered her question in a whisper. The one that had lingered since the moment she had heard her father speak in Brimstone mansion.
Accusing their mother of being complicit, in their father’s actions. Wishing her own death upon herself, to allow her children to awaken a Fear of death.
“Did you know?”
Vale watched as her mother frowned, speaking wordlessly. She flinched as Asale stepped in closer, caressing a hand across her cheek.
Then, her mother’s pale hands encircled her throat.
She gasped from the sudden constriction, sharp points digging into her flesh and parting it, beads of her blood running to the ground.
Vale blinked and her mother’s face disappeared, replaced instead with a familiar vine-covered roof above the bed in which she rested.
Obscured by a black skeleton positioned on top of her. Triol’s cold fingers encircling her neck, mirroring her mother’s grip in her nightmare.
Vale helplessly clawed at her brother, dark spots beginning to swim in her vision as she struggled to maintain her grip on consciousness.
Vale called her Phobia. Gripping the large white scythe with both hands, she thrust its handle across her brother’s ribcage, pushing him off her and sending the skeleton sprawling across the floor.
“Vale!”
Vale coughed, bringing a hand to her tender throat that still bore the marks of his grip. She desperately breathed in the air she had been deprived, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
She stared in horror at her brother that had attempted to kill her.
“Are you alright?”
“I’m alright, Quietus.”
She fixed her brother’s hollow eye sockets with her gaze.
“Get away from me.”
Vale spat the words like acid at her brother, who slowly picked himself up from his growl. His deathstalker prowled between them in a crouch, fixing its gaze in Vale’s direction. As silent as the death that it embodied.
Vale gritted her teeth, and let out a ragged laugh.
“I was beginning to wonder what the catch was, Lord Quietus. Everyone tells me, that the descent into our Fears bring perils. I was wondering why I haven’t been plagued with unavoidable nightmares or hallucinations.”
The Fearshaper of blades interpolated himself between Triol and Vale, protectively extending his golden greataxe as he fixed Triol with his gaze.
“I think I finally understand just where the danger to me lies.”
Despite the confidence and anger with which she said her words, her expression twisted into one of sadness and…
Confusion.
---
Shiver listened silently, as her friend relayed the details of the incident. Waking to find her brother’s hands encircled around her neck. Both of her revenants were nowhere to be seen, presumably locked back in her room, under watch by Solastra’s aides.
Vale’s theory was sound.
The symptoms of their Fears had worsened after their descent from Anhedonia.
For Shiver, even despite Icey’s assistance, she wrought frost with just a touch. Vivienne had illuminated her to the innumerable hordes of ice shades that threatened to overwhelm her, at the very edge of her awareness.
As Vale had relayed to her, Caledon had almost ended her life due to one of his own hallucinations. His Fear twisting reality itself creating fictions that had almost led him to kill again.
It seemed that for Vale, it was nothing as simplistic as the terror induced by physical symptoms or a twisting of her reality, the threat her Fearshaping posed was by her very own revenants.
“I think there could be a workaround.”
“Oh?”
Shiver tilted her head at her friend’s statement.
“The invocation I received from the bodysnatcher. [Soulprison of the bodysnatcher]. I think it could halt Triol in his tracks, at least temporarily. Though... I haven’t tested it out.”
“Triol isn’t the only revenant we’ll have to worry about.”
Vale nodded her face pallid. Shiver continued.
“For now, let’s leave them under Solastra’s watch, at least until you obtain some invocations that can protect you.”
They were interrupted by a soft knocking.
One of Solastra’s aides bowed to the pair.
“You have been cordially invited to a private dinner with the Highlady. She wishes to discuss the next stage in your descent. If you would follow me, please.”
