Chapter 10: Chapter-9: Transgressed what a human must not

Alenor was roused by the sound of chirping. A small blue bird was sitting on her shoulder, blinking. It chirped when she looked at it. Startled, she imprudently stood up, only to slip and fall down. The bird flew in the air as she fell, and then it sat on her chest. Her body greatly recovered; the pain was almost non-existent, thanks to Celine’s potion and whatever magic she used for the arrow. She sat back, and Bluebird again sat on her shoulder. She blinked at it. "What are you?" she wondered out loud. The bird turned its head toward the mansion. Alenor turned around to see Celine; perhaps this bird was hers. Celine waved at Alenor, and she waved back. She saw Celine not down and tense as someone should be in this situation, or perhaps she did not consider her a help, and she smiled slightly. It did not matter, anyhow. She looked up, the night had gone, it was blue hour, and sanctuary was still here, just slightly visible. 

On the other side of the bridge, their enemy stood. Monsters in the foreground, soldiers and mages in the background. Monsters were glued to the sanctuary, one above the other, trying to climb past the dome-shaped structure. She had to fight them. 

Alenor stood up and took a deep breath. Now she was going to perform a taboo that a peasant had never done before. The Warlord would probably kill for this sin, yet that too would be a relief. She unclasped her armoured hand. A cheap metal one. She wore black gloves inside it, only expensive clothing she ever purchased except her footwear. It was uncomfortable to be wearing so much, but it was also necessary. She removed the gloves, revealing a ruined hand. One that did not match her beautiful appearance. Her skin was smooth as a newborn's, red and thin, and seemed to break at the slightest scratch; her ring finger on both hands was cut in half, and her smallest finger on the left was missing. Ring finger as a communion that she was not allowed to marry. and the smallest one for some reason she could not recall. All her nails black, twisted and uneven, resulted from uncountable times they were pulled out. Along with skin. Now, they were beyond disgusting to look at. Even for herself, it reminded her of the past she longed to forget if it was not the only thing she had to remember. As such, she had to make sure they were never visible to anyone during her missions. Yet, to fully utilise her Empirical Arts she had to make direct contact with her weapon. No one was here, she did not need to hide it. She hoped Celine could not see her hand. 

Alenor uncapped her waterskin; the inside of it glowed red. a sense of mana unlike anything she'd ever felt before. The spirit’s blood It was the water in the path of Strayer’s Guide. She did not drink it that time, instead filled her empty waterskin with it. Spirit’s blood; From what she had heard, it increased mana reserves, a never ending supply of mana along with control, like that of Spirit’s and granted spirit channeling. She did not know what 'spirit channeling' was. She was skeptical that it would be that grandiose; it sounded even more outrageous than immortality. If it only granted her mana, enough to use her Empirical Arts, she would be content. It was not really blood but a concentration of mana to the point of liquidation, as per Alenor's analogy. As for side effects, if she consumed it excessively, she could die, just like an overdose from any drug. It was not that expensive for the returns it promised. Another thing she had heard, the ones who consumed it became a Warlord. So, it was taboo for a peasant like her to even think of drinking. It was just very rare to find, thus not many reported accounts were available. This was the first time Alenor saw it, and it was in such a mystical place. And if Celine’s reaction was anything to go by, Not many people could enter it.

Alenor heard Celine's voice as she brought waterskin to her mouth. ‘Miss Celine, can you tell what this is from that far away?’ Alneor knew if she drank it in front of her, she would be stopped. For that reason, she had left the mansion earlier. She ignored her and drank away the mystical water. It tasted like excessive mint, cold and harsh, her throat felt like it was being scratched and cut apart from the inside. It tasted unlike anything she had ever eaten, yet it was consumable. Suppressing her instinct to spit it and stop from harshness in her mouth, she gulped down all of it in one go. She just needed mana for her Empirical Arts, as long as she had enough to stop them till sunrise, overdosing did not matter. Her dying either. After drinking it, Alenor looked at the balcony, and Celine was not there. Her scream was very loud. Alenor chalked it up as her being angry, not something she desired but still something she could make do with.

As the harsh liquid flowed down her throat, it reached her stomach. Her throat started to hurt, and the sensation of being cut did not stop. The headache from the night before reawakened. Her stomach felt hot and burning, and then the pain began in her stomach—agonising pain, unbearable. She clenched her stomach with both hands and bent down to the ground, her forehead in the dirt, as she tried to control herself. Cold sweats formed on her body. burning pain, her inner twisting. She clenched her teeth, stopping herself from screaming. Slowly, in her heart, stabbing started; ice-cold needles pierced her heart. She could not breathe; she tried to, but as she breathed in the air, the stabbing got unbearable. She stopped herself. Her headache grew worse. Then, like a thousand needles stabbed into her brain, an impact like a hammer struck her inside the brain, Pain grew.

She screamed like never before. She did not scream like this when they cut off her finger or pulled out her nails, or when they crushed her knee for breathing in their presence, or when they subjected her to every other imaginable atrocity. A guttural scream tore through her already-ruined throat. A long, teeth-clattering scream. It stopped when she coughed out blood through her mouth, blood flowed down her nose. The blood on her face felt like magma. Enraged as it burned her face, another scream left her throat. ending with another coughing fit. Needles burned in her brain as they stabbed, then turned cold, never letting her pass out or go numb from pain. Stabbing spread through her body, burning stabs from needles straight out of the molten iron. In her nails. Her spine. Insides. In her head. Every place, one by one. When stabbing reached her eyes, everything turned white, her ears rang, her scream ripped apart her throat, and she coughed up blood. Her screaming stopped, only broken sounds came; her throat was incapable of producing sound. Neither her lung could push air, it too was burning and freezing at the same time. Flaming magma ran through her nerves, burning everything. She wished she could end this misery, yet every new sensation was clearly felt. Her mind was attentive, as the pain only grew and new types of pain compounding over earlier. 

Every moment felt like an eternity. Her body was being pulled apart, Alenor sensed, her body was tearing. This was the most painful she had felt till now. This was a new sensation. Unwelcomed yet her sense did not numb from it. Her mind was so active that she could distinguish between every new agony as it appeared. This one would probably kill, pain from tearing overwhelmed every other pain. She cried in her mind for it to stop. She would take all other pain a hundredfold for it to stop, yet it did not. 

Was it done by the spirit's blood? Or monsters? Did the sanctuary collapse? Was she here for all eternity or just a split second? Was Celine alive? Who was this crying that she could hear? She did not know. Her vision has already blackened. She lost her sight. Everything was black. However, the feeling of  stabbing, burning, and freezing did not go away. Her hand broke; it tore apart. She screamed in her mind, yet her body did not. It just rolled on the ground, slithering like a snake after having its head cut off. Her agony only grew as the time passed by. She expected to die when she drank the spirit's blood, not this. If only she had known. She wished she could stop herself from doing this. To go back and tell herself to stop her from drinking this Misery. 

Was she even alive? Or this was hell. ‘Hell, of course,’ a voice whispered. She agreed; she had lived a living hell, and it had been very kind to her compared to what she felt now.

Alenor did not like pain; it reminded her of everything she wished to forget. Horrors that kept her awake all night, laughing face as they subjected her to pain, yet this time, this hell made it hard  for her to remember anything. Only thing she felt, she remembered, was this sensation of misery, of suffering. She just wanted to help, to make sure Celine lived. Was it so selfish of her? Why was she punished like this for it? She did not wish for glory, to show off, or even to live. just some time and mana to use her Empirical arts one last time. Perhaps, wishing to use her magic was the sin; that has to be it. She was being chastised for it. How long would this repentance last? Would she even have any sanity left when it was over? Would she be allowed to die? 

"Alenor, can you hear us?"

A voice called her, piercing through the veil of misery. An indifferent voice spoke directly into her mind. She heard it, even though her ears were ringing like they were struck by a hammer. It was calling her, how? She did not know; everything was black; she could not see it. Then light was everywhere, rays of light piercing through the darkness.

 

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