In the months following the siege of Bastion, life had not been easy for the Awakened of the brilliant castle. Having to spend all their time fighting abhorrent abominations to gain what little ground they could muster. Every day, they faced new hardships as the men and women fought to keep what little they had gained.
Death waited around every corner, and every twist and turn they made through the labyrinth of white stone brought new dangers. The stones they now marched along had long since fallen to ruin as the cracked surface of the great hall stood in front of them.
The once-white stones yellowed by age and decay, as the foul air polluted their lungs. When they had entered this dreadful realm, they had been twenty strong, with only the best and the brightest allowed to join their ranks, and yet only seven remained to tell the tale.
Warden was the first to leave the dreadful hell they had discovered, and yet his duty was not done until every last one of his surviving soldiers had made it back to the relative safety of the castle. He had been the one who had discovered the castle's dreadful secret not too long after first returning from his ascension.
His mind and body had undergone a far greater change than most, and yet it still wasn't enough, at least not yet. On the far wall of the great hall stood a mighty mirror, larger than any he had ever dreamt possible.
This one artefact was the sole exception to the carnage that surrounded them, the surface unmarred by the ruthless assault of time as it reflected an ideal world in its surface, a world where the castle had not been shattered, and the world itself remained whole.
Despite all reason he did not slow as he reached its surface, instead he walked through it like a cascading waterfall of light, its surface rippling gently as he passed through the veil between imagination and reality.
His form did not match what now surrounded him as he quickly readied to once again cover the ancient mirror with the shroud left behind by the former master of this place, the Avatar of War. Even she did not wish to deal with the fearsome abominations which lay beyond its reach, it seemed.
His armour was bloodied and torn as chunks of bone and flesh were illuminated by the torches hanging on the walls, his skin marred with stains to the point where one would think he too was one of the undead abominations which still roamed the halls above.
His body was exhausted and beaten to the point where all he wanted to do was collapse right there and then, but he knew he couldn't, for he had others who depended on him to be strong no matter what, so he persevered.
One by one, his troops passed through the rippling surface of the mirror as he waited for the final members to make their way through. They, out of all of those here today, were among the true elites, the cream of the crop, and for good reason.
They were the ones abandoned by the Waking World, as it was now being called, the ones who had lost everything they once knew and were forced to live in a realm of nightmares for all of time. They were known as the lost pair or simply the lost.
They had been forced to fight in an endless sea of torment the day they were left behind. The creatures of the keep had not taken long to notice the dragon's disappearance, and it wasn't for a few days until the newly awakened arrived to their aid.
When they did all they found was a massacre of untold proportions. Sitting on a pile of corpses were the ones who were left behind, and from the destruction, a new Bastion could be built, one where humans could live without fear of death.
It was up to Warden to make sure their work was not in vain, that their lives would mean something greater than all of them combined. This was the legacy he wished to be inherited by future generations.
He knew he wanted to leave behind something for his son, so this would be his gift to him, a better world forged from a better tomorrow. All he had to do now was start laying the foundations for that future to bear any merit.
Finally, the great mirror rippled one last time as two figures standing side by side walked from its surface, both of them covered in blood, both new and old, with terrible damage to both their memories and their bodies.
The younger man had dried blood clinging to his hair, which was once tied in a neat ponytail which reached just past his shoulders. His body was lean with tight muscles bulging underneath his blackened leathers, which highlighted against the pale tones of his skin.
His body had been coated in blood time and time again, which had seeped deep into the leather, making the black surface shine with an eerie red tone. His distracting dagger danced in his hand, inviting any and all to gaze upon its beauty.
Upon his shoulder, a small bird was perched, its feathers matted with blood and dust as it desperately tried to clean itself off, with little to no luck.
To his side, an older man stood tall and proud, his armour and sword covered in cracks and dents, his olive skin glistened from the sweat rolling over its surface. His massive frame was packed with dense muscles which even made the mighty bear like abominations from the woods seem like mere cubs.
His pristine black hair and thick beard, devoid of any signs of grey, were stained by the dried blood and sweat that clung to him like a moth to the flame. Of course, moths had long gone extinct in their world.
His brilliant amber eyes held a quiet darkness that only grew with each day he was stuck in this dire hell, but what could he do? Trapped in a world of nightmares against his will, any sane man would have ended it all by now, so maybe it was for the best that the darkness was proof that he still wished to live.
Seeing their return, Warden wasted no time in leaping from one pillar to the next. These titanic structures framed the great mirror, and it was on them that the shroud was attached. Warden had spent too long studying their runes, and yet their mysteries still eluded him.
He wondered how the marvels left behind managed to keep those terrible abominations at bay, maybe he may never know, but that wouldn't stop him from trying.
As the shroud drew taut, it was as if a sudden weight was lifted off all their shoulders, as if they had forgotten to breathe for a long time and had finally taken in a breath of fresh air for the first time in a long while.
Collapsing to the floor, the Awakened soldiers all let out a collective sigh of relief. They had made it back, back from the true horrors in which this world held.
Dismissing his blade back to the depths of his soul, Damian couldn't help but feel a sense of utter relief upon their return. He couldn't believe that so many of them had made it out of that hell alive. The broken castle and the desecrated sky had created the backdrop for quite the fierce battle, so much so that they didn't even have the energy to run by the end.
Looking ahead, he summoned his runes to see how far he had come since being forced to fight powerful creatures nearly every single day for over half a year;
***
Name: Damian
True Name: -
Rank: Awakened
Soul Core: Awakened
Soul Saturation: 387/1000
Memories: [Broken Chain], [Ariadne's WarBow], [Coiled Nail], [Final Ambition], [Knight's Longsword], [Fractured Sight]
Echoes: [Other]
Attributes:[Deadeye] [Incessant] [Undisturbed] [Spark of Divinity]
Aspect: [Ceaseless Wanderer]
Aspect Rank: Sacred
Aspect Abilities: [Unremarcable], [Insubstantial]
***
These past six or was it seven now? Months had been truly harsh on both his body and his mind. He had never been too lucky with his rewards from the spell in the first place, but after what he had just experienced, he felt like the most recent reward was well worth the wait.
A cold smile found its way onto his face, and before long, he felt the thud of a fist colliding with his armour as the familiar voice of Jasper called out to him in a quiet voice,
"Good Sir, you're making that face again. Stop before someone thinks you're plotting something. You remember what you told me?"
Damian's smile quickly turned wide as he turned to Jasper,
"Yeah, I know, but I just can't help it. My luck has been awful, and I finally got something good! I'll show you later when we get back home"
Jasper pulled his arm away, not fully convinced by the man's words. They had been travelling together for over a year at this point, so he could see the pain hidden deep within that smile of his. He wished there were a way to comfort his friend, but so far, nothing seemed to work.
Suddenly, a shadow loomed over them as Warden looked down on them, his hand gripping the handle of his newest blade. His voice was as calm as ever, and yet there was a fierce fire burning in the depths of his eyes.
"I need you two to meet me in my office once you're done cleaning yourselves up. There are some important matters I'd like to discuss with you both."
With those simple words, he began to walk away, seemingly unbothered by the various injuries all across his body.
Damian and Jasper got up and prepared to head back to their home, but before they did, Damian unexpectedly bowed to Jasper and said,
"After you, my king."
Jasper simply put his face in his hands as a deep sigh left his lips just before he spoke,
"I never should have told you. How long will you keep this up?"
Damian simply laughed softly at his friend's words as he followed closely behind the younger man as they left the great hall behind.