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Edit: Wattpad being janky in mobile, republishing for better loads.
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"Snuuu.... Snuuu..."
The rhythmic sound of Sandra's gentle snores was a lullaby to the dawn chorus as she nestled against the steadfast back of Igris. Her rest was undisturbed, her dreams likely a world away from the journey they undertook. The cape of the knight served as her blanket, a touch of red against the verdant tapestry of the forest through which they traveled.
A week had passed since their paths had converged, and with each new sunrise, Y/N's mastery over his shadowy domain grew stronger. Behind them, a trail of shadows whispered of their passage, a testament to the shadowy tendrils that now served as Y/N's scouts, extending his senses beyond the physical realm.
Y/N's thoughts often turned inward, meditating on the nature of his powers. He sought a state of acceptance, a communion with the shadows that flowed through him as naturally as his breath. It was a delicate balance to maintain—letting the darkness consume without being consumed, maintaining vigilance while allowing the power to suffuse his very being. Perhaps, he mused, it was akin to the Aeons and their Paths—a complete embodiment of an essence that transcended mere ability.
Practical applications of his newfound affinity for shadow had not eluded him. He had learned to connect with the cast shadows of objects and beings, an extension of his awareness that provided invaluable insight and reconnaissance. This shadow network was a boon to their quest, and Y/N took pride in the ease with which he could now navigate it.
Defensively, he had found inspiration in Igris' use of shield magic—a technique the knight had learned from a comrade. Y/N's own version of the shield, while not as robust as Igris', was a testament to his progress and adaptability. It was a protective embrace conjured from the dark, a barrier against the tangible and intangible threats they might face.
Yet, the memory of his confrontation with Lan—a battle of corrupted power against Aeon might—still haunted him. The potential to stand among Aeons was within him, he realized, but it was a potential that needed to be harnessed with care and intention.
"Y/N," came Igris' voice, unexpectedly pulling the man from his vigilance. Y/N's tone was apologetic as he returned from his reverie, "I was lost in thought. Reflecting on all that has transpired since we first met."
Igris, ever the stalwart companion, offered his ear. "If there is any burden, share it with me, Y/N. '' Their bond had deepened over the days, the knight's loyalty now interwoven with a burgeoning friendship.
Y/N appreciated the offer but chose to keep his musings to himself. "I appreciate your concern, Igris. Just alert me if you sense your comrade's presence," he replied, directing the conversation back to their immediate task.
Halting in his stride, Igris's voice was tinged with a hint of excitement. "That is precisely why I called out to you, Y/N." He pointed towards a less dense part of the woods, where the shadows of ruins beckoned.
"Oh..."
Y/N's eyes sparked with an ethereal black glow as he focused his attention in the indicated direction. His shadow stretched outwards, a dark wave rolling over the earth and enveloping everything in its path.
Igris could not help but be captivated by the display, even as familiarity had dulled the initial shock of such power. Y/N's affinity for shadow was a wellspring of possibility, a force of nature that defied easy categorization.
As the shadow enveloped the landscape, Y/N's senses sharpened, his mind syncing with the darkness that now served as his eyes. The pain that once accompanied such an act was a distant memory, his spirit now in tune with the whispers of the shadows.
There, amidst the moss-covered ruins, a faint presence called to him—a figure kneeling, shrouded in an enigmatic aura that resisted Y/N's probing sight.
Withdrawing his shadow, Y/N faced Igris, whose gaze was laden with hope. "I found what we're looking for," Y/N declared, a newfound resolve firming his words. "Follow my lead."
Igris's response was a nod, his posture straightening as he adjusted the sleeping Sandra on his back, securing her for the journey ahead.
The atmosphere was charged with anticipation as Y/N called forth the Abyssal Gate. Its swirling darkness yawned wide, an invitation and a promise of swift passage. "It will be quicker to teleport us directly there," he reasoned aloud, "Time is of the essence, after all."
Igris, the very embodiment of chivalry, inclined his head, his voice laced with the deference of a bygone era. "After you, Y/N," he offered, gesturing towards the gate with an armored hand that spoke of battles both won and lost.
Y/N acknowledged the gesture with a simple nod, his attention fixating on the pulsating aura that seeped from the portal—more tangible now, a silent herald of the unknown that lay beyond. His hand hovered near the space where the Ornate dagger could be summoned in an instant, his senses taut like a bowstring drawn.
"Do you feel it, Igris?" Y/N queried, his voice a low murmur, as much for his own confirmation as for Igris's acknowledgment.
The knight, poised at the edge of the gateway, nodded, his gaze fixed upon the swirling darkness. The subtle tension in his stance betrayed the emotional tumult beneath his armored exterior—a blend of anticipation and apprehension, the heart of a warrior beating in time with the call of camaraderie and duty.
Glancing back at the peaceful form of Sandra, Y/N felt a swell of protective instinct. She was an enigma, a beacon of light whose life had intertwined with his own in a bond that felt strangely paternal. It was a connection that had blossomed rapidly, perhaps too rapidly, leaving Y/N to wrestle with a mix of joy and concern.
In that moment, Y/N knew he must prioritize their safety over the reunion Igris yearned for. With a silent apology carried on the breath of his thoughts, Y/N addressed the knight. "Igris, I believe it's best if you remain here to safeguard Sandra. I will call for you both once I ensure all is secure."
The knight hesitated, his instincts torn between the call of comradery and the mantle of guardianship that rested upon his shoulders. The aura emanating from the portal was a siren's call, yet it bore an undercurrent of neutrality—an undefined threat that might mask friend or foe.
Y/N could sense the emotional maelstrom within Igris and pressed on, his command brooking no room for debate. "Igris, I can handle myself. Sandra needs your protection, so stay here," he insisted, the edge in his voice cutting through any hesitation.
The knight stood steadfast, his sense of duty warring with his desire to join Y/N. But the aura, neither light nor dark, neither welcoming nor entirely forbidding, held him back. With a nod of acquiescence, Igris relented, though his voice carried the steel of his convictions. "I will stay to protect Lady Sandra," he conceded, the knight's resolve firm as the steel he wielded, "but should you require aid, I will not hesitate to join you."
Y/N, satisfied with Igris' pledge, offered a nod of trust. "Good. I trust you to keep her safe, Igris," he affirmed before stepping through the gate. As he disappeared into the dark, the portal began to close, leaving Igris alone with Sandra, the silence of the forest their only company.
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Igris remained motionless, his gaze fixed on the vanishing point of the portal, now just a memory in the fabric of the forest. A sigh escaped him, laden with the weight of unspoken duty and the ghost of commands once given by his queen, Idrila. To serve one's liege, to be the unyielding shield—such was the edict etched in his soul. Yet, here he stood, at Y/N's behest, sentinel over a slumbering charge rather than at the side of his King.
A maelstrom of self-doubt threatened to consume him. Y/N's powers had blossomed rapidly, a testament to a talent that bordered on the preternatural. Igris had witnessed, with a mix of awe and trepidation, the depths of shadow Y/N wielded—a force as ancient and enigmatic as the darkness between stars.
These shadows, they whispered of hexes and dark enchantments, yet bore none of their malice. Instead, they spoke of a primordial essence, akin to the very energies that Idrila, his queen, had mastered—a power that defied the simplicity of light and dark.
The term 'Emanator' lingered in Igris's thoughts. Could Y/N be one such as this? But no, the energy that Y/N commanded was different; it pulsed with the vitality of Aeons, yet he walked among them as if mortal. The conundrum tugged at Igris's mind, a puzzle for which the pieces seemed just out of reach.
Crunch... Crunch...
A sudden noise, the unmistakable sound of footsteps, snapped Igris from his reverie. The crunching of branches and the muffled echoes of metallic boots approached, stirring the knight to alertness. He turned, hand instinctively reaching for his sword, ready to confront the unknown.
The figure that stepped into view halted Igris's breath. "You!?" he exclaimed, his voice a cocktail of shock and recognition. The being before him, clad in the familiar garb of armor, returned his gaze with an expression that bordered on bewilderment.
Igris' mind raced, his initial shock giving way to a sinking realization. If this figure stood before him, where then had Y/N ventured? The signal, it seemed, had been nothing but a lure—a trap laid by unseen hands.
With his duty to Sandra paramount, Igris could not afford the luxury of chasing after shadows. His voice, steady despite the turmoil within, broke the silence that had fallen between them. "Explain yourself," he demanded, the authority of his station as Marshal of the Knights of Beauty asserting itself.
---
Y/N's emergence from the Abyssal Gate was into a world starkly removed from the one he had known. The lush vibrancy of the forest he remembered was now a somber landscape, where the trees stood like gaunt specters under a sky shrouded in perpetual twilight. The air was still, devoid of the chorus of wildlife, and the very earth beneath his feet seemed to recoil with a silent moan of desolation.
He scanned the horizon, the verdant life of the forest had succumbed to a grim transformation. The trees, with their branches gnarled like the twisted fingers of a forgotten god, clawed at the oppressive sky, and a thick mist crawled along the ground, enveloping forgotten gravestones in its cold embrace.
A realization pierced Y/N's thoughts, a chilling acknowledgment that he had been misled. His connection to Igris and Sandra, once a comforting certainty, was severed, leaving him isolated in this forsaken plane. "I've been tricked," he murmured, a tinge of frustration lacing his calm demeanor. The flow of time here was aberrant, still and unyielding, yet he stood immune to its stagnation—a benefit of his transcendence into the divine.
Y/N ventured deeper into this morbid forest, his figure a lone contrast to the desolation around him. The gravestones he passed were worn by time and neglect, their epitaphs obscured by mud and a strange decay that seemed almost sentient in its writhing persistence.
He knelt before one such stone, his hand glowing with blacklight as he sought to cleanse it of its blemishes. The mud yielded to his touch, but the decay resisted, a malignant energy that defied his initial attempts at purging.
Intrigued by the challenge, Y/N's shadow energy coalesced around his hand, forming a gauntlet of dark armor. With a decisive grip, he clasped the decay, his shadow energy seeping into it, a battle of wills against the malevolent force.
The decay retaliated with unsettling cries, a cacophony of anguish that seemed to echo the despair of the forest itself. Yet, Y/N's resolve held firm, and slowly, the decay diminished under the relentless assault of his shadows until it dissipated into nothingness.
He exhaled, a small gesture of triumph. His gaze now clear to read the inscriptions etched into the ancient stone.
"Yharnam," he read aloud, the name etched in the stone now free of corruption. A question formed in his mind, who could this Yharnam be? The name resonated with a sense of importance, compelling him to record it within his Phantom Bubble—a memory locked away for future purposes.
But there was more. Below the name, further inscriptions beckoned. Y/N leaned closer, his voice a hushed whisper as he read the ominous prophecy, "And when the Great Ones descend, a womb will be blessed with a child."
". .. .. ...."
A shiver of foreboding ran down Y/N's spine. The whispers grew louder, a language unknown yet filled with an ancient power that his shadows seemed to recognize. They swirled defensively around him, a dark barrier between him and the unseen forces that now stirred within the forest.
With the Ornate dagger in hand, Y/N stood ready. The world around him began to shift, the forest fading into a different place.
---
Y/N's surroundings morphed seamlessly, the desolate forest giving way to a vista of haunting allure. He found himself within an ancient, overgrown labyrinth that seemed suspended in time, its architecture a blend of natural growth and structured elegance. Enormous stone arches, entwined with the sinewy limbs of aged trees, carved out paths leading into the heart of a place both tranquil and unsettling. The remnants of a grandeur long faded whispered through the air, carrying with them the scent of moss and stone.
The labyrinth stretched out before him, its pathways like the intricate weavings of a spider's web, each turn and corner inviting yet foreboding. The sound of his footsteps echoed hollow against the worn stones, a lonely cadence that underscored the surreal silence of the place. The very fabric of reality felt thinner here, as if this were a place not fully anchored to the world he knew.
As Y/N approached the central fountain, its waters continued to spill forth with a clarity that belied the decay around it. The liquid danced and shimmered in the dim light, the gentle splashing a counterpoint to the oppressive stillness. Y/N bent over the edge of the pond, his reflection gazing back at him from the mirror-like surface, a solitary figure in a place untouched by time.
A voice, ethereal and familiar, broke through the silence, resonating within Y/N's mind with an intimacy that was both comforting and disconcerting. "Y/N?" The voice of Ena, his celestial mother, reached out to him, tinged with urgency.
"Mother?" Y/N responded internally, his calm a stark contrast to the turbulent energies that enveloped him. The connection with Ena flickered, her presence a beacon amidst the cosmic interference.
"The Great Ones... they are shielding this place, keeping me at bay. It is crucial that I reach you; the balance is at risk." Ena's voice wavered, a sign of the immense forces at play, forces that could challenge even the might of Aeons.
Y/N remained rooted by the fountain, a pillar of stillness amid the chaos. "What must I do?" he inquired, his voice a bastion of serenity.
"Stay where you are, do not wander," Ena instructed, her ethereal touch within his mind a comforting pressure. "I am weaving the stars, attempting to unravel you from this accursed snare. Oedon's essence permeates this place, and I must act swiftly."
"Oedon?" The name fell from Y/N's thoughts like a stone cast into the depths of the unknown, rippling through the fabric of his being. Ena's presence recoiled slightly at the mention, a testament to the gravity of what they faced.
"That name... it belongs to a Great One, an entity that now seeks to entwine its fate with yours. The reasons remain obscured, even to me." Ena's explanation was a river of clarity in the mists of Y/N's mind.
But as Y/N pondered his predicament, a strange tranquility settled over him. In a situation where panic should reign, he found an inexplicable peace—a peace that frustrated as much as it soothed. "Mother, what are the Great Ones?" he yearned to ask, to understand the beings that now cast their shadow over his path.
"Mother? Are you there?" His call went unanswered, the connection severed as if by an unseen blade. "Mom?" he called out again, his spirit reaching into the void.
But there was only silence—a silence that cloaked him like a shroud, leaving him alone by the fountain, his reflection a solitary sentinel in the still waters.
Amid the spectral stillness of the labyrinth, Y/N felt the oppressive weight of a looming doom. His hand, gripping the Ornate Dagger with a readiness born of countless battles, was the only thing that seemed real in this place where even time had forsaken its march.
"Fight back, Y/N. Fight it back," he whispered to himself, a mantra to steel his spirit against the ethereal onslaught of the Great Ones. It was a violation of the sanctuary of his mind, an intrusion that kindled his fury like a spark to dry tinder.
A cold embrace enveloped him from behind, ghostly tendrils that sought to seep into his essence. Y/N remained motionless, his resolve a bulwark against the chill. "Who are you, and what do you want with me?" he demanded, his voice a blade cutting through the silence, firm despite the otherworldly caress.
"You called my name, and I have come," replied a voice, soft as silk yet layered with the echoes of countless others, a cacophony disguised as a whisper. It was a symphony of one, yet of many, an auditory paradox that unsettled the mind.
"Oedon," Y/N uttered the name, feeling the entity release its hold. He turned to face the one who claimed it, his eyes laying upon a sight that defied the nature of beings.
The entity before him was draped in the tattered remnants of regality, her form a sculpture of loss and grandeur. The dress, once a masterpiece of craftsmanship, now bore the stains of eons, the fabric torn and muddied, yet still held the echo of its former beauty. Delicate roses, woven into the decaying silk, clung to a semblance of life, their petals like whispers from the past. Her veil, a gossamer cascade that obscured her face, fluttered with an unseen breeze, a phantom's breath upon the still air. In her hand, she held a scepter, its design as intricate as the fabric of reality that she seemed to manipulate with mere presence.
A child's cry, distant and sorrowful, pierced the air, reverberating through the stone corridors of the labyrinth. "Ahhh, Mergo, my child," Oedon mused, her voice now carrying a note of triumph, a chilling reminder of the power that the Great Ones wielded. "Idrila never stood a chance. The womb is blessed, the heir to nightmares born."
Y/N tensed, readying himself for conflict. The air around him was thick with the residue of cosmic machinations, the presence of Oedon a vortex of unfathomable intent. Yet, as he prepared to defend against the unknown, he found no aura to read, no energy to gauge. The Great One before him was a void, a being of pure potential and boundless reach.
Oedon seemed to take umbrage at his defensive stance. The cries of the unseen child grew louder, a haunting chorus that seemed to feed off Y/N's determination. "My dear," she cooed, her voice now a discordant melody. "I have fathered many, a lineage unbound by flesh. I am nothing but a voice, a boundless transcendence."
Y/N's mind raced, the pieces falling into place with a clarity that chilled his blood. "The Great Ones," he whispered, "beings of multiple dimensions, existing beyond the confines of a single reality." The revelation was a burden, a knowledge that weighed heavily upon his soul.
"And yet, we do not see ourselves as such," Oedon responded, her arm raised to the heavens as if in supplication or perhaps command. In a swift motion, she turned to Y/N, her veil doing little to mask the intensity of her gaze. "I will have you, your seed. You. I will have you. Every. Single. Of. You," she declared, her voice now a tempest of desires, both human and otherworldly.
Y/N's mind rebelled against her proclamation, his instincts screaming of the danger she posed. And then, without warning, Oedon's grasp was upon him, her strength beyond his own.
In a surge of adrenaline, Y/N slashed at her arm, retreating from her touch. Oedon's screech was a sonic blade that threatened to shatter the very stones beneath them. The labyrinth quaked, the cries of Mergo crescendoing into a symphony of despair as the arches crumbled.
"Y/N!" Ena's voice cut through the chaos, a lifeline amidst the storm. The constellations began to weave around him, stars knitting a path of escape.
He spared one last glance at Oedon. Her eyes, revealed beneath the veil, wept blood, a testament to her fury and pain. The image was etched into his memory, a nightmare given form.
And then, he was gone, whisked away by Ena's celestial intervention, leaving behind the labyrinth and its unholy matron, her cries echoing in the void he left behind.
---
Y/N stood once more beneath the open sky, the echoes of Oedon's wrath still ringing in his ears. The world around him was unchanged, but within, a storm raged—a battle of wills against a being that defied comprehension. He was safe for now, but the whispers of the Great Ones would haunt him, a siren's call to a fate yet unwritten.
The realm's embrace was both sudden and disorienting as Y/N found himself wrenched from the grips of one nightmare only to gasp back to life in the familiarity of another. His body shuddered, the adrenaline that had surged like a tempest now receded to a quiet storm within his veins. As the pulsing fear ebbed away, he was left with a haunting realization: The Great Ones, if they bore any resemblance to Oedon, were entities of unimaginable terror.
"My liege!" The concern in Igris's voice was a balm to his frayed senses. Sandra's presence, too, was a welcome anchor, pulling him back from the precipice of fear that loomed in the wake of his otherworldly encounter. Despite the brevity of his journey, the taste of that fear was something Y/N knew he never wished to sample again.
Physical strength and spiritual fortitude, he acknowledged, were his to cultivate if he were to ever face such a fearsome being again. As Y/N's gaze met Igris's and Sandra's, he saw the reflection of his own turmoil mirrored in their anxious eyes. Sandra, typically a radiant sun, now bore eyes dimmed by concern.
"My lady awakened as soon as she felt a disturbance," Igris shared, his voice tinged with worry. The knight's observation punctuated the shift in Y/N's aura—from the man who had departed with confidence to one who returned seemingly burdened by an unseen struggle.
Sandra's silent nod spoke volumes; her quietude in sorrow was a pattern Y/N had come to recognize, a silent language of empathy they had woven between them over time. Compelled by a need to reassure her, Y/N reached out, his hand gently ruffling her hair in a paternal gesture of comfort. Her acceptance of his touch spoke of trust and offered him a semblance of solace.
The moment of familial comfort was interrupted as Y/N's attention was drawn to a still figure a few feet away. The armored form stood as silent as a sentry, a sheathed longsword at its back marking the silhouette as a warrior of note.
"My liege," Igris interjected, directing Y/N's attention back to the present, to the matter at hand.
"I assume this being is your comrade?" Y/N inquired, his voice dry as parchment, his throat tight with anticipation.
With a nod as solemn as an oath, Igris signaled the figure to step forward. The knight approached with a measured stride before kneeling in fealty. "I am Alphen, a Knight of Beauty. And I have come to serve you, my lord," he declared, his voice resonant behind the helm, imbued with the strength and honor of his station.
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End of Subchapter
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