Heroes of the 6th Era

Chapter 8: Escape

Alston awoke within an endless void, he touched the back of his head, remembering the pain from being knocked out, yet that pain was gone. The void was without color, pure blackness in every conceivable direction. Alston would've thought himself blind or his eyes closed if he could not see himself clearly as though he were in bright light, yet there was no source. 

"Alston." A feminine voice called out in the darkness. 

Alston didn't dare answer. 

"Alston are you there?" The voice beckoned. It was warm and familiar. It reminded him of his mother. "Ah, there you are!" The voice sounded from around him; it felt like a warm embrace, but only left him cold afterwards. 

In the distance Alston could just make out a figure. Made of shadow, hunched over like a beggar in a deep dark cloak. The more Alston watched the figure, the more definition it received. The cloak the shadow wore was seemingly made of deep black feathers, almost reminding him of Lamb wrapping himself in this wings as he slept. 

"Who are you?" Alston's voice reverberated throughout the void as if something else was giving it emphasis after the fact. The figure extended it's arm from under the cloak and suddenly either grew massive or incredibly close to Alston, he could not determine which. The arm ripped the cloak off itself in a flurry of black feathers revealing not a body or person, yet a gnarled tree with black leaves.. No, not leaves.. Birds. Millions of them, their beady eyes glimmering in the darkness, all of them staring directly at Alston. 

"Alston!" The motherly warmth embraced him again, yet he still felt cold. 

Alston blinked and there was something different about the tree. A person was sitting on one of the extraneous branches. Their weight should've snapped the branch, yet it stayed strong. The person was wearing a white porcelain mask with no eyes seen underneath. They wore the same black feathered cloak, yet the inside was a deep crimson and there was something else... Faces? Crying out in pain. Reveling in joy. Weeping. Raging. Laughing. Pleasuring. The person's body was covered in a deep indigo gown, seemingly woven from roiling darkness. As he studied the dress, he could see this own memories. Running and playing heroes as a child. His birth, looking up at the sky and seeing a falling star. His grandmother giving him the journal. Lamb saving him from the Ankheg. Xinxi stealing an apple. Henri revitalizing in the sunlight. Ada attacking the water elemental with her magic. He also saw bad memories. Breaking his leg as a child. One of his men being disemboweled by a wolf. Bandits burning fields. The Chuul crushing and throwing him. Henri being battered inside the elemental. The dragon crumpling before the ambush. The person had long black hair, that seemed to free float without gravity, the ends of which grew silver and bled off into the distance.

"I.. I think I know who you are.."

"Oh? Do tell." Every time she spoke, her voice wrapped around him in that warm embrace, but left him cold without it. 

"Your cloak.. It contains the dead. Each of them in their own afterlives. Your gown shows memories, both good and bad.." The figure adjusted her position and put her hand on her cheek inquisitively. The porcelain mask showed no emotion, yet he could feel her smirk. "The birds are all ravens." They all erupted into a cacophony of caws and squaks and then just as abruptly, silenced. "Your hair is attached too all of us.." He held up his hand showing a single thin black strand attached too him. 

"Very astute.." She hopped off her tree branch and walked over to Alston, each delicate foot step creating a ripple in the darkness. "Who am I?"

"The mother of memories.. The matriarch of knowledge.. The matron of.. death." Alston exhaled deeply as she walked around him, her long tipped finger nail trailing along his shoulder. Her presence exuded a crushing pressure, yet he felt that same warmth.