The forest was quite enchanting and terrifying. When they left the village, Massia actually had to take some time to compose herself. Not just emotionally but mentally. That awakening realization of who she was was a massive shake to her mind. Coupled with the intense emotions that bubbled beneath her, composure was hard to maintain then. She really felt like a child comforted by her mother in front of two knights, but the more she tried to hold it in, the more uncontrollable it became, as if her emotions were fighting her to be freed. By the time her sobbing stopped, they were already deep within the Forest of Silence, the very heart of their kingdom.
She remembers far back into her childhood, as far as she could at least, being told not to wander off into the forest. That was one of the first things that she learned, really. Don't go out at night. Stay away from the monsters. Stay with an adult. Never venture outside the walls. Truth be told, she violated each of these doctrines at one point or another, but always with caution and rarely boldly. That instinctual danger of the dark, the light naturally swallowed by the trees, was haunting no matter how rebellious you think you are. There was something ominous, actively malicious about this forest, but at the same time natural, unbothered what really entered. Beasts roam in droves, and even though it is the winter season, certain precautions had to be taken to avoid being attacked out of the blue. Knights had to ride out far ahead and possibly slay or run off whatever intercepted their paths. She didn't know for sure, but she was sure that it must be nighttime by now. Gray somehow managed to fall asleep, cradling his saber like a doll in his lap. Elena sat silently in contemplation, gripping her sword in an unconscious effort. She was rather attached to the thing since they got it back to her. She should; they had gone through a lot to retrieve it. But there was something more there. It wasn't merely some useful instrument. Massia could tell she cared deeply for the item. And that look of thought, what was she expecting to see when she gets home? For Massia, such a question is nonexistent. She may not return home for a long time. Granted, learning that you are indeed a welcomed guest of the king himself is certainly daunting; she yearns for their home.
Gabbes evenly rode over to their window. "It's clear for now," he said. "We'll find a clearing soon to be able to hunker down till night."
"Good," Celia told him. Despite where they were, Massia found her mother strangely calm and placid. She was not usually this way, certainly not in a place like this. "We should make our trip expedient; the king is expecting us after all."
Gabbes smiled at some sort of inside joke between the two, returning to the head of their line to the very front of their line. As they did settle down, they managed to do so with a fairly large clearing that she did not expect to find in the forest. Still, swooping branches obscured any scenery proved from the sky itself, but the ground of this hidden meadow was relatively flat and large enough for their entire party to rest with what they could. Their tent, a large one supported by one giant pole, sat in the middle of this clearing. The knights, Gabbes, his second hand, then Elena and Gray stayed close to them. Then the soldiers and guards on the outskirts provided the mainline of security. The soldiers set up cooking fires, pots assembled for the small meal. They all gathered around a fire, and Gray's nose led him to take his place next to Elena. Gabbes sat next to Massia and Celia, tending to the dried salted meats being cooked with water to hydrate them. Besides that, bread and water were passed around. It was a nice experience. Like most of the other weird elements of this place, snow rarely met the ground. The air was crisp and cold with no wind, nicely offset by the roaring flame.
"Isn't it dangerous to have flames open at night?" Massia asked.
"In the plains, yes," Celia said. "Mostly because they attract murderous crows and Nemien lions. We had our run-in on our way to retrieve you. But the forest is already so scarce this time of year, and I doubt a monster would even take the opportunity to attack a camp like us."
"Still though . . ."
"Relax," Gray said. "Look at what's around. Even if a monster does come, we'll be able to take care of it quickly."
"My, do I feel so safe in your care," she murmured but smiled innocently at him. Then, she turned to her mother before he could process what she meant between her words. "Mother, you said you'd say more later."
"Aren't you impatient now," she sighed? "At least you're in your spirits, I suppose. It's quite a lot to explain. But you could probably guess some of it, can't you."
"From what I can tell," she focused, laying out the puzzles that she has gathered in her mind so far. There were quite a few pieces, however, and the picture was not so clear. "Mother. There are some things in my past that I question. I can't remember some of my early life, or what is there is fuzzy and unclear. It feels like a fog obscures it. I think of living on the farm for my entire life. But . . . that isn't true, isn't it?"
Celia nodded approvingly. "A sharp mind."
"But how do you know the king?" she asked.
"We served in the war, of course," she said. "You tend to meet a lot of people that way."
"That's not an answer," Massia told her, looking down at her bowl in silent contemplation. Celia immediately noticed a shift in her daughter, a concerning one at that.
"What is it, Massia?"
"It's just," she gave herself a moment to pause to gather these thoughts before their inevitable expression. "I've heard some things about you and dad. They told me things."
Celia's expression suddenly became grave, and she looked dead at Gabbes and gestured to him to leave. He did so without word, picking up his meal and traversing to a space at a different cooking pit. They were alone, for all intents and purposes, but even so, the atmosphere became closed off around the four of them. Only Gray, Elena, Celia, and Massia would be a part of any conversation here. Massia still could not look her mother in the eye, however. Actually, Celia realizes that Massia has seldom looked at her directly through their entire journey. She wondered, for a moment, what her daughter saw? Obviously, she was not the mother she once knew, but it terrified her deeply of the possibilities that ran off in her fragile mind.
"What did they tell you, Massia?"
"It's nothing I don't believe," she said quickly as if to dispel some sort of misunderstanding immediately. "But . . . I always thought that . . . I don't know. They told me some fantastical things when I was their prisoner. They made you out as this great enemy, these people who always were constantly fighting and . . . I don't know. I guess it wasn't you that I have always known. Then again, the things you did at our old house, they were unlike you, so unlike you."
Celia took a deep breath. "It's confusing, isn't it? The world is not as you saw it before? The people around you, reduced to strangers."
"I feel so . . . lost," Massia said. "I don't know who I am anymore. I'm not even sure if I'm Celia Opal's daughter, and that terrifies me more than anything."
"Well," Celia moved closer to her daughter, pulling her in with one arm for a tender hug. "If you can't find yourself in what you thought of us, then perhaps it's time you found yourself on your own terms."
Massia looked up to her mother, a bit confused. "What do you mean?"
"I have been where you are. I know how strange and scary the world becomes. I can tell you that I will be there to give you all that you need to find yourself. But I don't have the answers; none of us really do. It's why we have to stick together."
"Is that why you stopped?" Massia asked her.
"Perhaps," she sighed, then chuckled to herself. "Honestly, we just felt so sick of what we had become. When we thought our enemies vanquished, well, your father and I thought that maybe we could settle down and relieve ourselves of the burden we have. And hopefully, we can find ourselves while raising you."
"But . . . what are we going to do now?" Massia felt chills up and down her back as if some extra sense had temporarily told her of some invisible enemy about them now. "They will come after us, mom. They will stop at nothing."
"I know far better than you the depravity they are capable of, my daughter," Celia said. But I promise . . . we promise we will not lay down and allow them what they desire."
"Trust us," Gray said. "We've been stabbed too many times to be a coward now. Isn't that right, Elena."
"Well, we can talk more about this relationship we have between us, but I do agree," Elena nodded towards them. "Learning of the things you have done, not only alongside our king but to the betterment of the Empire, we are all unknowingly indebted to you."
Their words did somewhat ease her mind. But even still. She remembers all too vividly the cold embrace of death as Thanatos gave her, the haunting pain still phantom in her spirit. And the maddening silent decline of thought as her essence was being tugged away and replaced by this other. Still, they haunted her, haunted her without reason. She never remembered being so terrified. Well, there was that one time that Edlund and Lyse did lock her in the barn and bashed on it like monsters were coming to get her. That memory was a fond one. How can she rationalize what she feels now? She guessed the best she could do for now is to bury it, preferably somewhere deep, and hope the day comes that she can indeed forget it. While the atmosphere around the camp was tenuous, it was also quite cheerful. She focused on practically anything else but herself, the conversation between Elena and Gray, how happy they were to return home after such a long journey. She heard some songs rang up around some fires. Apparently, instruments were a part of some soldier's repertoire, and hymns and songs sprang up till the fires ran out. She was in her tent by then, but she found herself strangely moved by them. They were regular marching songs, beats that mimicked the advance of troops. It was soothing, something strangely familiar and comforting. She even hummed to some, using it to lull her into some kind of sleep, which she as always graciously wished for.
But sleep did not come. At first, she thought she simply was too restless. It was like this the last couple of nights as well. But over time, the sounds of clapping hands, drums, and strings faded out into the back of her mind, and she was consumed by the darkness she assumed to be unconsciousness. But no. In fact, she became even more restless once she realized this. Like something was keeping her energy up despite her drowsy mind. She frustratingly pulled off her blankets and opened her eyes, perhaps to pace about the camp till she could fall asleep, but she was startled to see she was not met by her tent walls. No. It was odd. She was standing in complete darkness, nothing but her blankets she was wrapped in and an expanse of what appeared to be grassy plains. The moons were out, Kuul and Mors, but no stars. There were no lights, no sign of civilization. Just the eerie sensation of a chill wind passing over her. She thought this to be some sort of lucid dream, some weird hallucination brought on by her Senate stress. But something, deep within her, told her otherwise. This was far too present to any mere fabrication concocted by her own stressing mind. No, this was something else.
"You're not supposed to be here."
The words came quickly, and she turned on an instinct she didn't know she had. She was frightened, to say the least, to see a woman sitting before her on a rock. A howling wind tousled coarse black hair, partially obscuring her face. But she immediately recognized the paleness, the dark eyes seemingly void of any life or spirit. This person, this thing, looked exactly like those lifeless soldiers who captured her. But the armor was different, however. It seemed far older, not of The same make and definitely not of Empire origin. It looked like something dug up from any of the many ancient tombs and dungeons.
"Oh, I'm sorry, did I startle you dear?" her accent was strange, words coming in a husky drawl. "Don't mind me, but I do wonder how you got here."
"Must I ask the same," She frantically looked around? "What is this? Who are you? Are you . . . are you . . ?"
"Get it out, child; things go faster here than out there, you know," she said. "To answer the tip of your tongue, we are in mind. Your mind. Well, it was supposed to come to mind, but I believe the process was not finished. How interesting."
Massia slowly began to understand this woman's words and who she was. All this time, she had been questioning who she was. Having memories not her own, Having skill and ability far beyond what she was capable of. It was all this person's doing. Her mother had said that there shouldn't be any side effects from her time spent in that damned chamber, but she is starting to see the consequences before her now. This spirit, this thing, was supposed to fully control her, take her body and turn her into one of those Makhai.
"Well, are you going to say something or keep gaping like a land-locked fish?" she asked.
Massia snapped her mouth shut, trying to find words to respond. "So . . . you are one of those people. Those pale-skinned assassins."
"Indeed," she said. "Though, as you can see, things didn't go exactly as planned."
"So, what?" Massia took an uneasy step backward. "You're going to kill me or something."
That seemed to give the Makhai some sort of pause, looking down upon Massia in a truly, satisfyingly astonished expression. But just as quickly, she laughed, harshly and somewhat mockingly. She slapped her thigh and nearly rolled off the boulder in hysteria, somehow keeping her balance while doing so. Massia did her best not to change her expression, but her cheeks did redden a bit. She never used to be on the receiving end of ridicule. But as quickly as she began her guffawing, she was moving. She somehow took grasp of some hidden sword and trusted it directly at Massia's heart. Massia was momentarily taken aback, so much that she couldn't defend herself from such a well-placed hit. She squinted her eyes and embraced for the seemingly inevitable pain to come. But nothing happened; she opened one eye to look down. The blade had entered, right through her, but no blood. The Makhai simply stood there with the blade in place.
"Like I could hurt you in here," she said with the largest of grins. "But the look on your face will suffice for now. There's nothing I can really do except wait."
"Wait?" Massia was afraid of asking such a question. "Wait for what."
"I don't know," she took her place back on top of the rock, the sword vanishing somewhere behind her and resting her chin on one knee. She wasn't exactly a beautiful woman, but she gave off such an air of dominance and strength. Somewhat like her mother, but much more subdued. "This has never happened before, child. Then again, we spirits are rarely stopped mid-way into our resurrection."
"Resurrection?" she asked.
"Well, of course, we were all alive before," she said as if it was an obvious notion. "Allow me to introduce myself properly. My name is Vermilia Colcaan, the Formidable. Surely you've heard of me in your era?"
"Vermilia?" she repeated. "Well, that is certainly old fashion, but I'm afraid I don't know who you are, no."
She clicked her tongue in minor annoyance. "Damn the gods. It appears that legacy is something seldom considered in their squabbles. Well then, rejoice, child, for you are graced with spreading my name back to the heavens."
"Excuse me, but why is that?"
"I was a warrior queen," she announced proudly. "In my day, I led my fellow men and women into endless battles and gave birth to valiant men who sought the very horizons. And upon my death, giving birth to the great Minthius Colcaan The Bold, I was granted a place alongside the great god of war himself, Ares."
"Well, at least I understood some of what they meant," Massia told her. "I'm afraid to say that your era is long gone now. Your names are nothing but lines drawn in the beach's sands."
"Well, I figured as much," she said. "But that is no excuse to restart such legends. Tell me, do the gods still grant their blessings to mortals? I'm sure if you were to ask on my behalf, Ares himself will grant you a worthy maiden of war."
"Well, I'm sorry to say that I have no idea what this . . . Ares, was it? Yes, I don't know who that is."
Vermilliia looked at her as if she had just said something quite vulgar. The longer this conversation went, strangely enough, the more human she looked to Massia. That expression just now, even, seemed more human than she has ever seen from the other Makhai, who seemed mere lifeless husks walking the land. In fact, she seemed like a very animated person. And this she thought them, mere mindless killers. Perhaps this was some insight she could glean, something she grabs onto about them. Perhaps they also lose something in this process where one soul is meant to usurp another, where they become mere slaves to that woman. That woman. She was starting to recall something faint. A brief meeting, being pushed somewhere and meeting something. She tried grasping for that memory, but as quickly as it came, it flew outside her reach. She met someone during her stay, someone important. Was this person, this woman behind all of their misfortune? She did her best to recall her actions then, but it was all some hazy blur, barely anything to recognize from memory, only feelings, pleasant feelings. And then fear. And then back in her prison.
"Pay attention, child!"
She hadn't realized that the woman was ranting this whole time while she was deep in thought. She felt a little embarrassed, then questioned why she was in the first place. This woman was going to take over her body given the opportunity. But she didn't seem all that bad, though. Bull-headed, most certainly, but necessarily painting the picture of evil and wanting to destroy all that she holds dear. She might have met this person as some passing performer, in fact, traveling with the circus.
"So what happens now?" she asked again. "Will you just keep steady in my mind, feeding me images of your life?"
"You say this as if it was on purpose, child," she said. "It's not my intention, but I suppose it is inevitable with us sharing this place for now. Who knows, I might fade into your subconscious and just become a part of you. Or maybe the other way around. In the meantime, I'd like to get to know you."
"And why is that?"
"Well, seeing I spent the last five thousand years drifting in the realm of dreams, I find myself somewhat curious about the physical world," she said with a small smile trying too hard to be innocent. "I'm just curious, how's that?"
"You're not that great at lying, are you?" Massia asked her. "I'm not telling you anything. I'm afraid you must find some other way to entertain yourself."
She looked disappointed, but not that disappointed. Despite her rather abrasive and attentive nature, there was this strange air of patience in her. She seemed quite used to the idea of waiting, apparently. But she did not know what she was going to do with that. She needed to talk to her mother or her mother about this somehow. But she was also strangely afraid of what would happen then. Is there even a solution to this? Like the crazy warrior princess told her, she guesses only that time could tell. But yet another thing to pile onto the massive burdens stacked upon them so far. Barely back in her own mind, and now she must share it with someone else. Too early for her to find fond her simpler life that seemed to have passed within the week.
The ground suddenly began to rumble, startling her from her thoughts. She watched as the horizon began to warp and stretch; the sky began to turn a nasty shade of green and blue like some sort of fungus. The two moons fell from the sky, making noises and crashing in the ground far off.
"What is this?" she asked, turning back to Vermilliaa, but she seemed quite complacent, even expectant.
"Look like our little chat is done, child," she said coyly. "It's been nice. Now take care. I'll be watching."