Their shallow breaths synchronized by the time baselard dissipated into a puff of white sparks, leaving a red, glistening hole where her eye used to be. Now it was somewhere deep into her skull.
Nyiko stared at the dead woman's, no, the facsimile of the dead woman's face. It was slack; the muscles of the face showed no expression—just pure, blank emptiness. Honestly, the sight failed to stir anything inside of him.
It was strange; he had formed these edgy fantasies about hurting and killing other human beings before, but those were just fantasies; he did not think he had the capabilities to take such actions.
Yet here he was, having killed not one but four humans, even if they were illusions made by the Spell, they were realistic enough that the difference would be negligible. Still, he felt nothing, nothing but the ache of his broken nose and the exhaustion of his body. He licked the blood that ran down from his nose and shakily picked himself up. As he fixed his robes, he noticed Hectre staring at him, a little befuddled.
He cocked his head to the side.
"Is something wrong?"
"Did you really just lick your own blood?"
He rubbed the back of his neck, looking at his worn sandals.
"Oh, I guess I did."
There was a brief pause before Hectre jumped to her feet.
"No! More importantly, what happened to that dagger? Was that you? Was that Sorcery?"
"Well, um, yes, in a way…"
Nyiko berated himself for not dismissing the memory later; now he had just put himself in an awkward predicament.
"...You could say I had a spell placed on me, though I could only utilize it now."
That was the best explanation he could come up with on the fly. Hectare crossed her arms and regarded him with suspicion.
"So what does this spell do?"
"It just lets me summon an item, sometimes. I can only use some items after I've slain a creature with my own hands, sometimes." He explained.
'There was no need to explain all that the Spell did for him; she should be fine with this. For now, at least.'
Hectare raised an eyebrow, but she seemed to accept that answer. Nyiko glanced over to the body of the Awakened woman, then to the direction of the other corpses.
"Soooo…do you wish to bury them?"
She shook her head.
"We should just grab a horse and ride off." She said dismissively.
As she turned to gather up supplies, Nyiko noticed a strange cut on his hand.
'I don't remember getting cut.' He shrugged it off and licked the blood away.
They got to work, finding and calming a horse. The other horses had run too far to bother chasing after, but at least they left some stuff behind when they ran. Nyiko looted what he could reasonably carry from the bodies: a shield, a sword, and a pair of boots that were too big for him. Their horse was equipped with all the necessary supplies, ready to journey the rest of the way. The four corpses of Hagh, Pike, Aurol, and…
'Ah crap, I don't know her name.'
As he and Hectre mounted their horse, he asked:
"Sorry, what was that Awakened's name? The one who escorted us through the markets."
"Celsa, why do you ask?" She questioned as she turned her head to face him.
He shrugged,
"Just curious"
She shrugged as well and sent the horse forward.
'Hagh, Aurol, Pike, and Celsa,' He continued his previous train of thought.
'Did I really kill all of them?' He wondered as they trotted away from the grim scene.
***
They rode into the rolling hills for a long while, trying to cover as much distance as possible to reach the ruined temple of heart god and get as far from the Fourth Frontier as possible. That catastrophe could happen any day, and just because they were not in the damned city did not mean whatever was coming would be contained in that area.
When the sun began to set, they stopped to make camp. It was a quick affair, eating and setting up their bedrolls; the only thing that took time was dressing their wounds. All Hectre had were a few cuts and bruises; she could put a healing balm on them. His nose, on the other hand, was harder to deal with.
"Wow, I thought you would at least flinch." She remarked as she patted his nose with a vinegar-soaked cloth.
"I'm good at handling pain, I guess you could say it's a hidden skill."
"More like a talent," She scoffed as she pressed an adhesive bandage to his broken nose.
"There, how's that?"
He let the bandage sit on his nose, feeling how it stuck to his face. The pain of his broken nose was now less sharp, but the ache was still there. What bothered him the most, though, was that he was forced to breathe through his mouth.
"Guess I should call you a mouth breather, huh?"
'No! No internet lingo from you!'
He gave Hectre a thumbs up.
The two got ready for bed after that. Nyiko lay in his bedroll, quietly staring at the stars. They were just as eye-catching as they were on his first day in this nightmare. He finally understood the appeal of stargazing and why so many people with dreamscape pods used them to gaze at the imaginary stars the Spelltech device created.
'As much as I want to doze off to this, I'd better look at my Memories.'
He shuffled deeper into his bedroll till he could cover his entire body from the outside world and opened his runes:
***
Name: Tinyiko
True name: -
Rank: Aspirant
Soul core: Dormant
Memories: [Evershine], [Unfaithful Blade], [Cricket's Choir], [Ember Heart]
Echoes:-
Attributes: [Destined], [Apprentice Scholar], [Sentimental]
***
Nyiko focused on the runes of his first Memory, the Evershine.
Memory: [Evershine]
Memory Rank: Dormant
Memory Type: Tool
Memory Description: [An old wedding band passed down from father to son. Even after decades, it still shines for that special someone]
'Interesting description'
A ring appeared in his hand, the metallic band cool to his fingers. It held no engravings; it was just smooth metal. Nyiko popped out of his to bedroll to let the light of the stars see the ring, and as the name implied, it shone in the moonlight.
'Nice, not very useful though.'
He dismissed the wedding band and returned to his enclosed space.
'Onto the next Memory.'
He focused on the Unfaithful Blade and its runes.
Memory: [Unfaithful Blade]
Memory Rank: Dormant
Memory Type: Weapon
Memory Description: [Cursed by a dying swordsman, truly, this dagger's treachery knows no bounds]
[0/1000]
His eyes narrowed as he read his dagger's runes. The mention of a curse was worrying; he thought such Memories only existed in novels. Those usually came with some kind of downside that the main character was luckily immune to, but looking down at his now bandaged hand, Nyiko doubted that. Some runes held a counter of sorts, but what it counted exactly was a mystery.
He summoned the dagger into his hands to study it further. The baselard was simple in design; the handle was fashioned in the shape of a traditional 'I' from polished black wood, which complemented the around 20 cm-long, cold grey blade.
Dismissing the dagger, he filled the remaining space with the last two memories he had.
What appeared was a medallion and a paper lantern. The lantern's light was very soft, so it wouldn't make the best luminous memory for journeying in darkness, but to compensate, the lantern did not need to be carried; it simply floated in front of him. In addition, he felt himself become… hotter? There was no other way to describe it; it was as if his body temperature rose, but in a safe manner, chasing the cold of the coming autumn.
'This is really cool,' He couldn't help but grin at the Memories effects.
Grabbing the medallion from his lap, he brought it closer to the lantern for inspection. The medallion's wide circumference barely fit in the palm of his hand, its copper surface engraved with the image of a cricket. It had a long, thin yet strong ribbon attached that looked to wrap around his waist. He did try other places, but they didn't fit as well.
There weren't any obvious functions that he could see, so he turned to his runes and focused on each individual Memory:
Memory: [Cricket's Choir]
Memory Rank: Awakened
Memory Type: Tool
Memory Description: [The souls of cricket's blessed his voice; he could make a noise to tear away at the sanity of others and fill the night with a soft ambience. All that remains of that gift is this medallion]
Memory: [Ember Heart]
Memory Rank: Awakened
Memory Type: Tool
Memory Description: [A paper lantern holding warmth for another. The tiny flame inside burns with the last wish of a soldier, who just wanted her love to stay warm without her]
Brows furrowed in thought, Nyiko concentrated on the description of Cricket's Choir. If he had to guess, the subject of the Memory's description was likely Pike, though the idea of connecting him to crickets never crossed his mind. A sadistic fiend from hell, yes, but not crickets. If he understood the description correctly, it seemed the Memory's enchantment could have been based on Pike's aspect.
'I still don't know how to use this thing, though.'
"How about issuing a mental command to play a sound?"
It was a good idea, so he tried it. He closed his eyes and focused on the medallion in his hand. Then, with a thought, he commanded it to play a sound.
What came out of the medallion was the first sound that came to mind; unfortunately, it was the same screeching, static-like sound that Pike used. It pierced the air, drowning out everything around him.
He jumped out of his bedroll and covered his ears.
'QUIET!!!'
And just as he commanded, the volume of the dreadful noise dropped till it was a soft grating drone. He exhaled the stress the noise brought and raised his head to see Hectre with her sword in hand, staring daggers at him.
"What in the Shadow was that!"
Nyiko shrank a little and met her glare with a nervous grin.
"Sorry about that, I was just trying something."
He subtly tried to issue a command to the medallion to play something close to the medieval background, but nothing changed.
Hectare sheathed her sword and crossed her arms.
"Are you planning on turning it off?"
"Um…no, just wait a minute."
Again, he issued a command for a song to play; this time, it was a request for a song he actually knew the name of and remembered how it went.
A quiet, smooth sambra rhythm began to play.
Nyiko looked up at Hectre wth his wide eyes flashing in the moonlight.
"See, see that! Music, oh, have I missed you, Bossa Nova!"
It had been too long since the ancient form of South American jazz had graced his eardrums. The music almost took complete control of him, and if it had, he would have done an absolutely awful attempt at samba where he sat. There was nothing he could do about the sway of his head, though.
It would be disrespectful to the artist if he didn't at least do that.
The cool vibes he was emanating were met by an eye roll from Hectre, but it was accompanied by her bright smile, so he took it as her being playful and not her finding the music distasteful. Who could hate bossa nova after all?
"Go to bed, Sage Scholar. Unlike me, you are an ordinary human who requires many hours of sleep."
The music died down as he shook his head. "Doubt that I could after the shock I gave myself, I'm not even all that good at falling asleep."
Hectare slid herself back into her bedroll before flipping the cover open.
"Then let me help you." She told him, her hand holding to the blanket of the bedroll in clear invitation for him to join her inside.
He blinked.
Then blinked again.
"How is my sharing a bed with you supposed to help?" He asked hesitantly
She stared at him for a long pause,
"Stop playing dumb and get in here."
Sheepishly, he slid himself beside her before she wrapped them both in the bedroll.
Their faces were close, possibly too close. Nyiko felt the warmth emanating from her soft, honey skin, heard her breath rise and fall, and felt how deeply her topaz eyes staring into his own. He thought it better to make some space between them, but it seemed she disagreed. She grabbed him by the waist and pulled him back and maybe even closer. They were so close that they were likely to bump noses if they shifted in the wrong direction.
"Hey,"
"Hey"
There wasn't anything they could easily converse on; they had talked to each other for so long and so often, it didn't feel necessary.
"Is that really true though?"
There was something he felt he had to bring up, though he doubted that it would be an easy conversation. Taking a deep breath, he began speaking:
"Hectre, why did you decide to help me leave?"
There was a pause as the question filled the tight space between them, but Hectre's serene, smiling expression didn't change.
"Reasons"
"Reasons are not really an answer, Hectre," He sighed.
"Listen, I'm grateful for what you did, more than I could ever express, but I worry about the toll that helping me puts on you. It couldn't have been–"
"Nyiko…" she interrupted
"It doesn't matter. The why doesn't matter, nor do the consequences of what I did. Do you know why?" Her stare seemed to punctuate the question; he could still see the light glint of brown irises even though they spoke under the cover of the bedroll. It wasn't menacing but intense with intent and feeling.
She didn't wait for his response.
"It is because we are free from there, alone in this wilderness and together." She slid her hand over to his scarred cheeks, caressing each scar with a gentleness he hadn't felt in a long time.
He melted into her touch, nuzzling into her hand.
He didn't bother voicing any more of his concerns; the body and mind were too tired to resist the softness of her embrace. His head fell into her chest, and she held him close there, massaging his scalp through his braids as they drifted off to sleep.
***
Days passed on horseback. The rolling hills seemed to be coming to an end; the slopes down led to greener, warmer pastures, and beyond that, the horizon was filled with the leaves of trees that shielded the forest like an aegis of fertility.
The hoofbeats of the horse they rode on couldn't keep up with how fast his heart beat. Could this really be the end? Could this terrible trial finally be over?
He held tight to Hectre as he felt his anxiety spike.
'What am I stressing about it, surely, we have escaped–'
Before he could even finish that thought, everything seemed to grow darker than before, expeditiously so. Something told him it was not some rogue cloud covering the sun. He lifted his head to the sky to see a horrifying sight. The best way to describe it is to imagine pouring ink into a clear glass of water.
The inky blackness flowed in like thin veils, layering upon each veil till the sky behind had reached a pitch-black tint. Soon, the part of the sky they rode under did the same, blanketing them in darkness.
And with the darkness came the unnatural caws that echoed in his vision.