Chapter 105: Faded Memories [Bonus ]

"Sir, sir… are you okay, sir?" A worried, high-pitched voice brought him back to his senses.

He found himself sitting behind a large, dark cherrywood desk, paperwork was haphazardly strewn across the surface and a small potted plant took up residence on the right-hand corner. He moved his eyes to look at the source of the voice, finding a young girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen, standing in front of him. She was dressed in plain black robes with an unfamiliar crest sewn into its decolletage, she was also wearing a very worried expression on her heart shaped face as her innocent blue eyes nervously watched him.

"I… I'm fine…" He replied, although his tone of voice was anything but certain.

Oh… okay. I've finished my report sir, here." She said before sliding the yellowed parchment onto the desk, then quickly running away like a frightened rabbit.

His eyes followed her as she left the room, the door noisily shutting behind her. A wave of confusion flooded his brain, immediately followed by panic, causing his heart to race and his mouth to lose all of its moisture. In a fluster, he pushed himself up from his chair, the wooden furniture tipping over and clattering on the floor behind him. His chest hurt, it was difficult for him to catch his breath, his world was beginning to spin, and the edges of his vision were darkening.

Stumbling over his heavy feet, he caught himself on the ledge of the windowsill. The sun was shining brightly through the open window, the warm rays and the gentle breeze helping him to calm his mind. He stood there, taking big, steady breaths until he could think clearly.

Where was he? What was going on? Most importantly, who was he?

His mind was still adrift in a sea, no, a deep ocean of confusion. The waves of uncertainty rocking the ship that was his mind, threatening to break it apart and sending it to the bottom, far down where no light could hope to reach it. His heart began to race again, he hurriedly focused on the scene outside to calm his mind, the many different people all dressed in matching black robes scuttling off in various directions.

The more he stared, the more familiar the scene became to him, like he had seen it before in a dream he hardly remembered after waking the next day.

"What is going on?" He asked himself, his voice thin and breathy.

Now that he had calmed down, he examined himself along with his surroundings. He was dressed in a black robe, much like the young girl and the others were wearing, but his were embroidered with golden thread on the hems. As his hands ran up and down the smooth, silky fabric, he noticed his hands. They were old and withered, swollen with arthritis. He held them up to his eyes, turning them back and forth.

Dropping his hands down to his side, his sunken, tired eyes scanned the large room he was standing in. The desk he found himself at to begin with, was sitting next to the large open window. An unused fireplace was set into the wall on the opposite side of the room, a large rug made out of an unknown animal's skin. The rest of the room was either decorated by masterfully painted portraits, or by bookcases filled with hundreds of unspoiled tomes.

Taking a few steps towards the books, he noticed his hunched over posture and the pain constantly shooting up his back. The act of walking alone was enough to make him out of breath, his labored breathing filled the empty room. Finally making it to the bookshelves, he pulled a random leatherbound book down and opened it.

As he flipped through the pages, his confusion only grew. All of the pages were blank. He pulled another book off a shelf, allowing the one in his hands to fall to the floor. He opened it, only to find that it was blank as well. He pulled another down, then another, then another, all of them were blank, not a single thing etched onto their many pages.

"What the hell?! What the hell is going on?!" He fell to his knees, his old bones screaming in pain as they impacted the floor.

"Sir, sir… are you okay, sir?" A high-pitched voice brought him back to his senses.

He found himself sitting behind a large, dark cherrywood desk, paperwork was haphazardly strewn across the surface and a small potted plant took up residence on the right-hand corner. He moved his eyes to look at the source of the voice, finding a young girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen, standing in front of him. She was dressed in plain black robes with an unfamiliar crest sewn into its decolletage, she was also wearing a very worried expression on her heart shaped face as her innocent brown eyes nervously watched him.

"I… I'm fine…" He replied as his mind reeled in uncertainty.

Oh… okay. I've finished my report sir, here." She said before sliding the yellowed parchment onto the desk, then quickly running away like a frightened rabbit.

His eyes followed her as she left the room, the door noisily shutting behind her. A wave of confusion flooded his brain, immediately followed by panic, causing his heart to race and his mouth to lose all of its moisture. In a fluster, he pushed himself up from his chair, the wooden furniture tipping over and clattering on the floor behind him. His chest hurt, it was difficult for him to catch his breath, his world was beginning to spin, and the edges of his vision were darkening.

Stumbling over his heavy feet, he caught himself on the ledge of the windowsill. The frigid winter breeze leaking through the seams of the window helped to bring clarity to his mind. The sky was overcast, low, grey clouds dusting the world with snow.

His mind was still adrift in a sea, no, a deep ocean of confusion. The waves of uncertainty rocking the ship that was his mind, threatening to break it apart and sending it to the bottom, far down where no light could hope to reach it. His heart began to race again, he hurriedly focused on the scene outside, the many different people all dressed in matching black robes scuttling off in various directions, leaving tracks in the pure white snow.

The more he stared, the more familiar the scene became to him, like he had seen it before in a dream he hardly remembered after waking the next day. Then it struck him.

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"Wait, wasn't I just over…" He asked himself as he turned to look at the bookshelves on the other side of the room, all of the books sitting quietly in their places.

A fresh wave of panic came over him, driving any sane thoughts from his mind as his heart raced. He dropped to the ground, gasping for air, and clutching his burning chest. His world spun more and more, his consciousness slipping into darkness...

"Sir, sir… are you okay, sir?"

"SHUT UP!" He spat, knocking over the potted plant, and causing it to shatter onto the floor.

The girl, with terror in her eyes, ran from the room, her black robes fluttering behind her.

"Damnit! Damnit! Damnit!" He roared, his feeble voice taking on the qualities of a wrathful demon.

A strength welled up inside his ancient body, a strength that felt alien and yet intimate at the same time. He stormed over to the closed window, wanting to shatter it, destroy it out of anger. When his wrathful eyes set upon the clear glass, all of the anger dissipated as if it was never there to begin with. Outside was nothing but darkness, a deep abyss of nothingness.

The more he stared, the more he felt the sudden surge of strength drain from his body, quickly returning it to its old, frail form. His body grew weaker with every passing moment, eventually he collapsed were he stood, his world turning black before his body hit the ground.

"Sir, sir… are you okay, sir?"

"Why are you doing this to me?" He asked the young girl, his voice equal parts anger and despair.

Cocking her head, she stared at him with her dull, white eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about sir."

Without another word, the girl gave him a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes before turning around and skipping out of the room.

Resolving to figure out what exactly was happening to him, he swallowed his fear and began searching through the exquisite desk. Each drawer that he pulled out were only filled with mundane, everyday things one might find in any desk, blank pieces of parchment paper, discarded ink wells along with a few that were still full, a stamp with the seal that he'd seen on the young girl's robe, and quills with long, radiant feathers tipping their ends. Finally, pulling out the bottom-most drawer, he found something of note.

On yellowed parchment were hand drawn diagrams and notes, the ink they had been etched with had long taken on a rusted hue. His eyes scanned the documents, but everything was blurry due to his deteriorating eyesight. With a frustrated 'harrumph', he dug around inside the desk until he found something to help him see, a magnifying glass. Holding the tool up to his eye, the cryptic writing and foreign diagrams became much clearer.

"The Ceremony of Endless Dusk? An infant's liver… nightshade… on a full moon?" He mumbled the contents of the documents to himself, he found the process listed familiar, just like he did this room and the seal embroidered onto the robes. It was like a nagging idea in the back of his mind that was trying to make its way to the forefront of his thoughts, only to be kept just outside his reach.

Having finished reading the contents but coming no closer to understanding the situation he was in, he put them back into the desk and made his way to the closed-door opposite of it. As he was just about to turn the doorknob, he paused. Fear was wriggling its way back inside of him, threatening to wrap its icy clutches around his timid heart. Hardening his resolve, he pushed the anxiety back down into the pit of his stomach and pushed open the door.

What met him on the other side was not a deep, dark abyss waiting to swallow him whole, or some eldritch horror brought to life by his fanciful imagination. Nor were there any answers to the myriad of questions that still filled his weary mind. It was simply a vacant hallway, filled only with the magical light given off by the magic stones in the ceiling.

Looking down both ends, he found them to be identical to each other. Shrugging his shoulders, he chose one at random and started walking down the hall. As he walked, he noticed that there were no doors other than his own. Stopping, he turned around to see his door some distance back the way he came. Deciding to continue on, he turned back around, only to come face to face with death itself.

He fell backwards, shouting out in fear and tripping over his own feet in an attempt to get away. As he backpedaled, using his hands and feet to walk like a crab, he noticed the skeletal figure mirroring his movements, it was also wearing a robe exactly like the one he was wearing. He stopped moving and it stopped moving. He raised his right hand over his head, it done the same. He got to his feet, and it followed him.

He carefully made his way closer to his skeletal doppelganger, his eyes locked onto the red, black, and blue flames burning brightly in its orbits. Stopping just in front of it, he lifted his hand and pressed it against the skeleton's hand. As their hands touched each other, he didn't feel the expected dry, hard bone, but the coolness and smooth texture of glass under his fingertips. He took a step back, the fear finding its way back into his heart once again.

Looking down at his hands, he found them to be those of a corpse's, the skin picked clean, revealing the bleach white bones beneath.

"No..."

He took another step back from the mirror, overwhelming terror filling his heart as he found himself standing in the mirror, smiling back with dull, white eyes....

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