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Chapter 74 - When the Shadows Dance, Auburn Falls
🕑 Added 2021-11-07 19:26:24 +0000 UTCChapter 74
When the Shadows Dance, Auburn Falls
A slew of emotions, fear chiefly among them, danced like framed silhouettes in Sylas’ eyes as he raced down the cold, dark corridors of the castle. The sound of his hurried footsteps and the flapping of the loose clothes were all drowned out by his gasping breath, and by the beating of his heart. Though he knew that Valen was on his wing, he hardly was aware of the man; in his mind, only an innocent smile hovered.
He distinctly recalled one loop where he heard something like this—a disease ravaging a group of people. However… he had forgotten. Truthfully, he had forgotten many things and had forgotten twice as many of things others knew at this point. He had so many conversations that changed his outlook on the world completely or his relationship with other people that all of them weaved indeterminately in his mind, hugging. And yet, everyone forgot most of those conversations, most of those moments. Only he remembered—but he didn't remember what others remembered.
Ryne had been taken to the same room he once found himself in, when he was encased within a feverish dream of dark shadows and voices and realities. He kicked the door open and found Tenner, alongside a vaguely familiar face of the castle’s ‘doctor’ standing around the center, conversing. He stopped, panting; he didn’t know why he ran so hastily. It wasn’t as though his arrival marked any meaningful difference in the outcome. And yet, raced he did.
His eyes gingerly scouted the rest of the room and saw the bulge on the bed, a blanket coming up to her chin. She appeared asleep, snow-white in the face, and was shaking.
“How is she?” Valen broke the silence, walking past Sylas and approaching Tenner and the elderly man draped in robes.
“As others,” the old man replied, sighing. “Feverish still, getting worse.”
“Nothing helped?”
“No. I have tried everything, Your Highness—from kot leaves to draining her feet. Fever simply won’t subside. She’s also begun to shake. I fear… I fear she won’t last the night.”
“How… how did this happen?” Valen grunted while Sylas finally managed to recover. Being stuck in a hazy limbo was hardly helpful. He first had to figure out what she was suffering from and, most importantly, when she caught it. It was likely recently, which was a good thing as the rest would undo it. Nonetheless, something this deadly appearing in the castle in the middle of the brutal winter was not a good thing. “Sylas, Sylas! Wait! Don’t walk too close!” Valen’s voice warned him, causing him to pause.
“… how long has she been like this?” he asked.
“Six hours now,” Tenner replied, walking up and stopping next to him. “Getting progressively worse.” A virus? Possibly, Sylas was not well-versed in medicine, to say the least, but he was still a modern man who did graduate high school, no matter how many moons ago that was. Even at his worst, he still had a far greater understanding of diseases than people here.
“How many others?”
“Eight, so far,” Tenner said. “All like this. Master Audin suspects it is the annual winter chills. But, as it is Cold Snap, they are far deadlier than usual, just like the winter."
“…” The question is… how fast-acting is the virus? How long does it take for symptoms to start showing up? Sylas knew not to ask those questions—after all, when they said ‘winter chills’, they literally meant winter chills. It wasn't a metaphor for anything other than what is implied. "When did the first one get sick?"
"About… a week ago?" the elderly man, Master Audin, responded after a momentary silence. "I cannot be too sure, actually. Some guards found him already dead in his room. By the time I got to him, he'd begun decomposing."
“… leave us,” Sylas said suddenly, startling all three men.
“Sylas—”
“Don’t come in, no matter what,” Sylas repeated, glancing at Valen firmly, standing behind his words.
“… you… aaah, fine,” Valen sighed, relenting and shaking his head. "But you must let Master inspect you afterward."
“Of course,” Sylas smiled in gratitude and waited for all three men to leave, with Tenner and the elderly man shooting him strange looks on their way out, before approaching the bed.
Ryne’s lips were trembling, as though mumbling for something, her eyelids quivering. Every so often, her entire body shook, akin to those remarkably vivid moments when people snap abruptly from sleep, shaken up by something—except, she didn’t wake. Sylas pulled back the blanket and saw that it was covered in sweat, her whole body drenched. Pressing his palm against her forehead, he realized she was burning up—really burning up, likely bordering the infinitely dangerous stage of one-ten.
What did she need? All the things Sylas didn’t have access to. Though there likely were some natural replacements in terms of remedies, Sylas didn't know the names of those even on Earth and stood no chance of knowing of them in a completely alien world that likely had completely alien plants. All he could do was thank the lucky stars that she got sick sometime recently. Though he wasn't certain whatsoever, he hoped that the sheer speed at which the sickness ravaged through her indicated that it was likely a fast-acting type rather than the slumbering one.
He crouched next to the bed and grabbed her hand. He wasn't going to stay and watch her die—not again. He'd rather kill a thousand men than do it, but he chose to stay for a moment, at least. It was strange, antithetical, even. He knew that everyone forgot everything—everyone except for him. Even this moment, one of concentrated tenderness and brutality of life… nobody would remember it. Even he was likely to forget it in due time. And yet, he elected to stay for a flash. To grab the dying girl's hand and hold it.
At that moment, Ryne's eyes fluttered and suddenly opened—they drifted in a haze for a moment before they landed on Sylas. Widening, her trembling lips curled up in a smile. Within the dying eyes, he saw relief, hope, desperation. His heart stopped for a moment but he forced his way through. Now was not the time. No, it was never the time.
“S-S-Sylas…?” she mumbled.
“Aye, it’s me,” Sylas nodded. “It’ll all be fine, kiddo. I promise.”
“R-really? I… I won’t… die?” she asked, part in terror and part in joy.
“No. I won’t let it happen,” Sylas said, smiling lightly. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me still. Sleep now. Rest. The next time you open your eyes… it will all be better. Painless.”
“… y-yes. Thank you,” she mumbled, her fingers grasping his tightly. “Thank you…” her voice drifted, as did her consciousness. Sylas felt beyond humbled by her trust—and beyond scared. Gritting his teeth, he let go of her hand and took a deep breath before standing up. Glancing at her, he was just about to reach toward his belt and handily end the loop when he saw something that made him pause—framed around her fragile figure, he saw shadows. Like smoke from a fire, they arose, dancing and tangling together like lovers unmet.
They looked like terrible, impish hands grasping toward her, like claws reaching for their prey. Terrified, Sylas woke from his stupor, wanting to move forward yet realizing he was unable—looking down, he saw that his legs were pinned by the very same shadows. They were holding him down like chains, and they cut into his skin like parasites.
“Shit… what the fuck is going on?!!” he cursed, trying to yank back but failing. Another change once more fixated his eyes toward Ryne—amidst the swirling shadows that seemed to have consumed the world in their wake, Sylas saw a faint shimmer. And then another. And then another. Before long, Ryne—who had ceased being visible a long while ago, hidden beneath the blanket of the shadows—and the world around her changed. It was like a cloud hiding lightning of the thunder within, glowing ever so often, showing its brilliance. But all soft things… snap. And so did the shadows.
It was as though a megaton bomb went off in that moment—brilliant, azure light blasted off with Ryne as the epicenter, burning away the shadows immediately as the wisps and cries and screams of a thousand choirs blasted off into the night. The light, however, didn't stop there—it formed a dome, a shield around Ryne, and continued outward at speeds imperceivable.
The entire castle went up into pieces, like a slashed painting, as a pillar of brilliant light shot up into the sky, alighting the world. Sylas was knocked off his feet—or, rather, his feet were knocked off of him as the sheer force had kicked him back before killing off the shadows cradling his legs, separating him from them as such. Entirely ignoring the pain and horror of losing his legs, even while midflight through the raining rubble and debris of the castle falling apart, he couldn’t look away from her.
From within her chest, he saw a tiny pebble emerge—a pearl, brilliant in its cascading gradient of blue, rotating unto itself, spitting out light like a star. It lifted her, dyeing her hair in tangible auburn, healing her, changing her, before shooting back into her. The time seemed to slow down to a crawl—the sounds stretched out, unusual, grating. The castle’s bits and pieces were everywhere around him, thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands of smaller chunks flying away. And Sylas was among them.
He stared with horror and awe at the sight—all for a moment before the darkness was swallowed and before the light birthed the dawn. The shadows screeched and danced and they died, and in their place, a beauty beyond beauty was born. And for that singular moment, he could only see a flash of her eyes opening, shining in resplendence that was distinctly not human, before a large chunk of what was once a fireplace splattered into his head, killing him on the spot.
You have died.
Save point ‘Pup’s Blood’ has been initialized.
“Holy shit…” he mumbled, still reeling.
