There are three ways to face adversity. A difficult choice for many.
Cleverly.
Fiercely.
Or fleetingly.
I've done my share of the three.
I already planned revenge on the bastard who hurt Axel. I've ran into fistfight or jumped in the (metaphorical) fire, a few time already in the past days. And I spent most of my life running away, this time both metaphorically and literally.
But this time, I'm taking upon myself to not run away. It's not like my legs have the strength left for that sort of folly.
Now, back on our mission, and for this episode: creepy abandoned building!
I mean it's literally where the trail led us. So it's like 2 A.M, following the trail of a mystic sword that is probably cursed, into a gloomy looking building, my death right around the corner.
A few weeks ago, if someone had told me I would have ended up in such situation...well I would probably believe them because it sound like a stupid shit I would do. I'm tempted to laugh a little even.
Taking the secondary seat at the front of the car, I indicated the trail. My senses grew so stiff, but my perception of the world energies grew too.
I keep surprising myself.
However, my completely dead face when everyone saw the terrible building didn't gone unnoticed.
- So we are really going there?
- Hmm...
- Despite being quite the obvious trap?
- Yup...
Hanna sighed with a smile.
- I should have guessed...
And so, we entered. The place reeked like sewer. Moisture everywhere, spiders crawling...you get the picture.
However, the ether was sure thick. Thicker than I ever saw in my entire life. I didn't frowned but I sure had to warn all my colleagues who were following me, shoulder tensed up from all the energy, all on my tail like the fucking scooby gang. Now, it was a certitude not even the table of the Camelot knight could make untrue.
- Careful, the sword is here.
They all gulped. I decided to make small talk in order to avoid tension.
I mean, Hanna was rather calm, and the two bosses were good. Eric was much more tense, and Oberon was pathetic at trying to dodge invisible obstacle. Sometime, seeing more than the average man can be a burden.
I turned toward Oberon, and extended my arm towards him after crouching. I did not try to smile, because it would have looked hypocritical. Not the best, you could imagine.
- Hop on.
The cat eyes beamed, he climbed over me like a child, yadda yadda, you know the drill. We all know it well by now. Yes, I have a pouty dryad in my fur.
Sometime you just gotta accept the weirdness. If I spent just two minutes reflecting upon my circle of friend weirdness, I would have go to the asylum without the need of trauma for it.
Such is my life.
- Hey, Oberon, do you have a theory as to why so many Britannic artifact of major importance are here in Salem?
- Hum, hard to say. Their presence in the first place may be explained as the immigration of the first people who sailed to America, but as to why two major artifact appear at the same time... no idea. However, I theorise artifact that were made "together" have a sort pull to each other, as if seeking to reunite.
- So that's why we found the scabbard...
- Yup, although I'm extremely surprised to not have seen the sword by now.
- Why is that?
- I don't know, it just seemed logic to me...
Oberon and his unfathomable logic...
- And what artifact were created together?
- Oh, that's actually stupid, but this is some high fantasy bullshit right here.
I didn't expected those rough words. It just didn't suited well with me to hear him swearing.
- Language!
Hanna voice did quell all my doubt. He wasn't supposed to swear. I reprimanded a small laughter that never comes. Was it truly me wanting to laugh or the memory of me acting this way in this sort of situation that spurred me to reprimend a faint laugh?
None of it really mattered in the very end.
At one point, we came before a very big room. Grey so far had tainted the wall. Moisture mostly, like I said, rats and spider webs. A miracle to still have walls. But this library, so strangely placed in this building who was seemingly not made for it... seemed off. At least, that's what a blind man would say.
Warm, yellow... the opposite of the outside. Through the looking glass we fell, and so appeared this library, seemingly brand new, clean, exempt of all decay caused by time, and seemingly way to big to fit in the building. To what sort of world have we come to cross over? The shelves were filled with countless of book, half of them missing, pages all over the floor... Magic was strong in this room, and ether too. But not in the usual concentrated way. More as if this place had been the theatre to many supernatural experiments.
- Do you sense the sword?
- Yes, as if it was the room itself.
- ...please tell me it's not actually the room.
- No, but the signature is all over the place, literally all over this library whatsoever. The sword have been here too long, and so the imprint is so strong it's like seeking one specific golden needle amidst a pile of copper needle. It visually noticeable, but you have no idea where to look for.
- That's... a curious metaphor, and a painful one.
I shrug at Hanna comment. This place sure looked neat. However, it was unsettling. And the most bothering thing was our lack of time. I decided it was a good time as any to show off. If you have powers, not using them is stupid.
I called upon my magic. Or rather, the ether. This familiar feeling of coldness, like a rough embrace yet tender at the same time. Then I remember the sensation, like pulling fish out of the water with a net. Aaah... I somehow missed to do those things. I simply muster a simple word, giving order to the chaotic energy.
- 28...
The ground seemingly cracked open, letting go of a small greenish looking mist. Suddenly structure crawled out, half formed by the mist and adorned with ragged yet militaristic looking leather cloths. Skeleton and rotting carcase. It was the horde once again. Been a while since I've done such flashy spell.
Bam, we had 28 skeletons ready to follow orders. I indicated the shelves.
- Gather anything on the table and see if you can find a sheathed Norse looking sword: it's handle and scabbard are black. Search for other artifact too, but that's secondary.
Everyone looked at me funny, slightly afraid, but at the same time impressed. I didn't want to waste any time. I clasped in my paws.
- Come on, void for brains! Hurry up and get me those files and weapons! Follow the butterflies!
And just like that, in a snap, a cut had opened on one of my fingers, and blood was dripping from it, turning into butterflies at the contact of the air, the little red insect flying merrily around, sniffing mana in the air.
Oberon, less fazed than the other four, asked simply:
- Why have I never seen you use it before?
- the only time it could have been useful, I was just out of a possession induced nap, and I wasn't in my best form. Besides, I had yet to know the property of my blood.
- And how does it work?
- Mana and ether destroy each other, aside when put together in my blood. I can still control my blood around like a body part, and I can pretty much sniff out magical artifact like any witches around when I have my paws on it. so, those butterflies will graze each little things in this room and the horde will recover the object that will have overwhelmed and destroyed the butterflies.
He whistled, apparently amazed by my reasoning.
- I just hope the workshop will not disturb this spell of yours too much.
- Workshop?
- Place designed to facilitate usage of magic and construction of supernatural object. That's why the dimension inside are different, that's a distinctive signe.
You learn every day. When I looked at how the place was builded, it made sense. It was so cut off from the world, and the architecture very similar to the university.
We all started to rummage through books, scrolls and ancient tools. I admit, it was a bit cool. On a shelve, I noticed an assortment of golden cup. All of them neatly aligned, they all bared various engraving, depicting various things: angels and trumpet, trees, sky, butterflies... there wasn't much of a pattern here.
The interesting part was that I could feel this familiar feeling of mana and ether swirling around a singular point. Those cups were focusing it. The water within the cup must be conductive of supernatural energy, but that's a wild guess of mine. Now that I think about it, the energy around this place did seem forcefully drawn, but not active, as if someone had recently shut down a bigger version of those cup.
Didn't Moira mention a grail in the log? None of those things felt ancient at all.
Eric was walking toward me.
- Hey, we've seen those before, at their hideout.
- Oh yeah, good point.
He seemed fairly casual as always. He did took upon himself. Still, cracks were left in the mask.
Oberon intervened, trying to make sense of all of it. He had a book at paws, reading avidly.
- So, what we do know is that she was gathering a ton of mana for an unknown purpose. With those cup and the table, she probably has enough to blow up multiple country and multiple time, so I doubt it's something directly offensive. She would have started already.
- No idea why though... any news on your side?
- Plenty! I finally have a name for this monstrous organisation!
Finally, a name.
- We are facing the order of TaL-Vekosh!
- I have no idea what you are talking about...
- Well, aside from the fact that they are clearly witch supremacist who would make Malcolm X look like a teddy bear... they ostensibly describe themselves as "scholar of the unknown" and to answer as to "why are they killing, kidnapping and experimenting on witches" then it's just for their fucking research. They are here since the very first occupant came to Salem. They had connection with all the weirdest magic cabal, such as the golden dawn, and their ultimate ambition was...
He flipped a page. He looked stunned. Then horrified. Then mortified.
- What?
- They want to recreate the old age to a greater scale... they wanted to go further and further, but once they reached the limit, they sought to destroy the wall that separated them from the divine. The kind of things that no one should have a hold on. So they only had two ways to go further. To have access to the same magic our ancestors had access to, or leaving this world.
- What, like going in space?
He looked at me, as if he was sorry.
- That would be an idea considering the amount of mana present in stars being so high but... I'm speaking about the other side.
I remembered how angered Moira sounded when she spoke of me. Wait, does that mean I was a member of the organisation? I felt a string snap.
- She told that she "reached" to somehow, does that mean she spoke of the world of the dead?
- Most probably.
I started to walk in circle. Oh, this is bad, very bad. I nearly scream at the skeleton.
- Did you find that blade already?
Hanna screamed without warning just after that. A skeletal fiend had pressed his shoulder on her own. He was holding a pile of paper alongside... a hammer? Yep, a pole-hammer, and it exuded the same sensation Dainsleif exuded itself. Albeit a bit weaker, and it was less... I don't know sharp? Dainsleif looked like a interstice made of ether(if it make sense for you, I'm afraid it only does for me), while that hammer looked more like a... a riffle.
I dare you to try to define what I am seeing, seriously. It's not easy to find metaphor for those sorts of horrendous weapon.
However, that did piss me off a bit, because it means that trail leads me to an dead-end. All we had left were the books. I felt two strings snap.
Unable to contain myself, I violently punch the table in frustration. My paws actually go through, but I don't register the pain of having broke massive wood. I huff a lot though.
- Fuck! Fuck, fuck! We are running of time, and we still have no fucking as to where those damn bastard will strike!
I felt a handful of string snapping away, and the rest were plucked to form a familiar melody. However, the growing insanity was put to rest as Eric crouched a bit to rub my back gently, preventing my respiration from going out of control. I don't usually lost temper like that.
I tighten the remaining strand. The mind is falling apart from the seam. I'm bitter.
- Hand me the hammer.
The horde obeyed. That's all they knew and all they'll even knew.
Letting go of my cane, not needing it anymore. I held the hammer. And the hammer answered. The vast tide of ether that drowned the room made all the object react violently. The light grew dim, then red. A voice screamed, resonating in our very soul.
- Unpermitted usage of ether object, drop the item and decline your identity.
- Shit!
The wall started to shake violently. The countless book on the shelves fell to the ground one by one. A massive pile was slowly forming itself, and a shape was seemingly moving underneath, like a shark stalking a prey. However, we were surprised when it was the actual pile of book who became aggressive. The massive mass of word-filled page slowly took shape, it's head reaching to the ceiling, despite being as high as a five-story house.
We are in deep shit. All of the horde is dead.
An arm formed itself out the shapeless mass of book, who had started to diversify itself in terms of materials, incorporating pieces of shelves and some table in the mix. We barely had time to dodge when the golem slammed this newly made arm into the ground. The rift provoked was so wide, the outer dimension slowly started to catch up to the workshop own dimension. I could already feel the space contracting.
In my quick dodging, I fell to the ground on my butt, the hammer next to me. My vision was becoming more and more of a blur. I felt another handful of string snapping. The last ember of sanity quickly fades away.
- Quick!
I suddenly feel that I'm being carried. From the little I could gather, half the building had collapsed. And I was back in Eric arms, carrying me like a bag on his back.
I barely noticed that I grabbed the hammer. It was a primal urge. A devouring itch. The hammer answered to my call. A small change of pressure in the air gorged with mana. It barely needs more than the effort of string plucking to let myself slip out of Eric arm. I fell to the floor, somehow gracefully.
- What are you doing?
I didn't listen to him. No matter. I've tossed my last feeling aside for this. I instead focused on danger.
All around me, I could sense the strands that held together the danger that befell upon us. That, and many more. I could see the only strand that kept the darkness from engulfing me. I could see the artificial ones, underlying my own weakening spell, the gap widening each time I dare to lie to myself. How foolish I was.
Whatever Moira did, it was botched. And whatever I was, she tried to hid away. Look how poorly it ended.
While everyone was screaming at me to duck out as another arm fell on my head, I simply made a single step to the left. The wave of energy was so brutal I almost fell again, but puppetry helped me stand. Without a second of hesitation, I strike the hammer on the arm with a violence I never displayed before, a vocalise of pure rage leaving my lungs.
As lucky as it may seems, the enchantment on me didn't disappeared. I ready myself for another strike without any hesitation, but I'm stopped in my track by a paw holding my shoulder. Thomas was crying.
- You are sure?
I could see from everyone baffled look that Thomas was visible by everyone. Like it mattered at such moment...
I looked back at the hammer, finally able to remember it fully. The dust on it had disappeared. On the long handle, sentences were carved in an ancient language I had no trouble deciphering, as my last link to reality eroded.
It is a weapon of the night.
A weapon for the dead
but only in the night...
- ...I can see your stars
I finished in a matter-of-factly tone. I don't falter. After all, I'm dead already.
Thomas disappeared, content yet sad of my lack of hesitation.
I prepare the hammer, giving life to it's purpose. I remember now so well, the day I forged that hammer. Meant to break down any magic, it was a foolish distant dream of two young boy, ignorant of how ugly the world actually was. But above all, it's a memento meant to destroy the very beings that created it and that are supposed to use it. "The mace of justice" for the innocent dream in guise of a name for the hopes it bared. There is a crueller one, destined to remind to whom the punishment for the evil and the wicked was destined to:
Malleus maleficarum: the hammer of witch.
I raise the wicked weapon, readying myself to strike, knowing my mind won't survive. For anyone who has shed blood of other, must be ready to have his blood shed. A rule me and a kind lynx agreed on.
I jumped, like I never jumped before, destroying half of my right leg in the process, but reaching at the golem head.
- Strike down, hammer: Major disconnection.
The blast of energy sent the book hurling so fast, nearby trees were destroyed in the process. Books that are made of wood destroyed trees: that would have been fun.
I don't have time to laugh, as I fell. I close my eyes, awaiting the shock. It never comes.
Instead, I fall brutally into Eric arms. In stupor, I immediately puppet myself standing. A bad idea, my right leg is making me loose balance. I still manage. I look at all them, confused at what happened.
- It worked?
Everyone hurried to my side, a look of horror on their face as they saw my right leg. Alan hurried and was the quickest, immediately tearing a part of his shirt to stop the flow of blood. The scent was so thick it was nauseating. I didn't even felt dizzy. And mostly sane, how is that?
Thomas too even appeared; this time invisible again. I couldn't help but laugh hysterically.
- Hahahahaha! Did you saw that? I can't believe it actually worked without me...
His eyes were nearly empty at this point. He hurried his paw next to my face, gently patting my cheek. I immediately understood. I did got rid of this mind prison.
He was just the one that opened the door. My laugh quietly died. I felt hot iron running in my vein, and ice stabbing my brain. I started to sense my body breaking apart for good. I don't even bother to stop myself from drooling blood at an alarming speed. My left eye vision faded for good, and my bones started to sound like a campfire cracking. My eye sockets poor blood as tick as melting wax.
And then, just like that, the veil falls apart. Shattered glass piece of reality everywhere, my soul stabbed by the shards. I see... the truth. The horrifying truth. All of the truth... it's beautiful, it's unsightly, comforting, and terrible...
I'm a lie.
And before that, I still was a lie.
Even the most powerful certitude I had about me don't exist anymore.
I fall backward. Just above me, is Eric, his eyes filled with tears. A look of shock upon his face, his eyes were filled with water. I'm not sad if it's the last I can see.
- Call an ambulance immediately!
Everyone was screaming and shouting. Go figures. Everything seemed so pointless, aside from the sky above me, and the beautiful face that stood above me.
Maybe I do feel sad, knowing it's just the beginning of my torment, knowing his face wasn't actually the last thing I was going to see. My eyes slowly started to close, but Eric tugs me enough to breath a last spark into what's left of me. I don't think I'm me anymore, I'm just leftover thought.
- No, no! Stay with me! You stay, here, with me...
There is no point in delaying that. But I'm torn between my desire to rest and the hatred I feel at the sight of his tears.
- Don't you dare! I'll hold my promise, please! I can't fulfil it without you!
I can't hear him anymore. I don't even know who is referring to.
His voice became faint, perhaps due to sadness or because my ears stopped working correctly.
- Please... I love you too... don't go.
I slip away in darkness, where no one is meant to reach.
My name is Seth Gallagher.
And this is the story of how I died.