Chapter 35: Ch.0035 – Fate

Myr followed like a dog on a leash as they strode through the village, Not-Ash at the head, his escorts by his either side and a small squad of goblins on their heels, obviously tasked with keeping a watch on him for all the good that it would do. News of the Lord's retreat had obviously started to spread throughout as a handful of goblins had hesitantly emerged onto the streets, their faces so full of apprehension and uncertainty. 

She understood their wariness. The world they had emerged into was a drastically different one to that they which they knew, so full of shadows and damnation lurking around every corner. 

And body snatching phantasms. 

The thought tore her gaze away from the hapless villagers and towards the youth she no longer knew. 

Was that the nature of the creature who had stolen Ash's body? She could only presume so. 

She'd heard heinous tales of their foul ilk: damned spectres that lingered in this mortal coil far beyond their time and spent their unlife terrorizing the living. Their kind was supposed to be rarely seen in the continental mainland, and largely confined to the twisted lands ruled by the Dead-King of the Necromancy. 

And even when they did appear, they were meant to be dealt with swiftly by the inquisitorial squads of Devotion. So, how had this foul thing of such immense power survived to make its way here, into her Ash’s body? And what of the humans that served it? 

Why would they? Were they too possessed, or some heretic cult that worshiped the undead? 

She swallowed her scowl as every passing second brought on a new question and no hope for an answer. She could only wait and see. That seemed to have become her mantra as of late, she thought drearily. 

The group continued onwards until they arrived at the doorstep to the temple and found themselves blocked by a force consisting of seemingly every shaman in the village. Their faces were calm and their eyes resolute. 

“We cannot allow you to trespass on this holy earth.” 

“I have come here before. Dead or not, I have the permission of your elder.” 

“No, you have not.” retorted the lead shaman calmly. 

Not-Ash seemed to take a moment to consider her words and then scoffed. “I suppose you are right. No matter. I will enter nonetheless.” 

The shamans bared their mana, feeble though it was. Most of them were tier ones, and a few tier twos. They stood no chance against him, and if the tales of the Lord’s defeat had spread this far, then they knew well that fact. Still, they stood, undaunted. 

Not-Ash seemed to care naught for their bravery. He loosed a carefully directed wave of his mana towards them before his goblin escorts could so much as utter a single word towards defusing the situation. The entire group of shamans collapsed like puppets with their strings cut, their bodies limp before they hit the ground. 

The goblin guards froze, their eyes wide. Myr too was shocked, her knuckles white. 

“Do not fear.” said Not-Ash as he continued onwards without so much as a glance back. “They aren’t dead, just unconscious. They shall awaken within a half hour. None of the rest of you follow or I shall do the same to you.” 

Myr hoped then that his edict included her, but a look from one of Not-Ash's followers made it obvious that she was intended to be by his side still, and so, she mutely continued onwards. The guards, for all that their faces betrayed their anger and fear and misgiving, did not. They watched him leave and then turned to tend towards the shamans. 

The rest of their walk was completed in absolute silence, Myr tense, Not-Ash uncaring and his escorts unbothered until they finally arrived before the chamber that housed Calixxa. 

The little girl was no longer in the midst of her meditation. Quite the opposite. She was seated quietly inside, alone. Myr wondered where her caretakers were. Likely unconscious with the rest of the shamans, she supposed. 

“Nice Ash!” cried the girl as soon as she spotted them. She ran towards him like a loosed arrow, her arms spread open, but curiously came to a stop a scant few feet away. The girl stared at him quizzically for a moment, her head titled in confusion, before her eyes widened and she stepped away. Her golden eyes danced between him and the humans by his side, and then finally Myr, before returning to the one that stood at their head. 

“Y-you are not nice Ash.” She declared with certainty. 

Myr startled at how easily the girl had realized that, and even the false beggar seemed mildly impressed. Not-Ash himself merely gave the child a once-over before he smiled. It was not a comforting sight, but rather the smile of a predator looming over its prey, and it sent a shiver down Myr’s spine, let alone the defenceless child stood before him. 

“Your talent truly is immense.” he said idly as he stepped towards her. “You are correct. I am not your Ash.” 

The girl stepped away from the approaching being that wore the face of her favourite human, her expression painted with dread. 

“R-return nice Ash to me right now! Or else!” 

The being laughed at that, truly amused by the girl’s impudence in the face of a power that had made even a tier six retreat. 

“Worry not, child. I will return this body to the boy soon. There is simply a matter that needs to be corrected before I do that. A matter of grave importance.” 

“W-what’s that?” 

Not-Ash stopped then. “You.” And then he unleashed his mana, Calixxa screamed and Myr moved. Her mace brought to bear, the stout constitution mage rushed to protect the girl. How she could do so, she hadn’t a clue, or even why. She had no personal attachment to the girl, but Myr knew well that if nothing else, she wouldn’t be able to bear to look at Ash if something had happened to her and she’d done nothing to stop it. 

She wasn’t the old Myr anymore, she swore. 

“Release her!” bellowed the mage as she descended onto Not-Ash with a righteous fury. She hardly made it a quarter of the way before she found her steps frozen by tendrils of shadow stronger than iron beams. 

The beggar appeared before her then, a smile ever upon his lips. “You mistake what is happening here, dear Myr. The goblin child is not being harmed. She is being saved.” 

Myr didn’t give a damn about his lies. She mustered her mana and struggled to break through, but for all that she fought, she found that she couldn’t move an inch. Worse, her mana was sluggish and unresponsive, refusing to obey even her simplest command. She was bereft of her spells, she realized with a mounting dread. 

Myr swore then, angered by the twisted fate that had befallen them all, and the impossible odds arrayed against them. Helpless as she was, she could only watch until Calixxa screamed herself ragged and then fell into blessed unconsciousness. 

“That was perhaps a bit too heavy-handed.” said the foul creature, an unconcerned look on his face. And yet he continued to funnel mana into her. 

“What are you doing to her?!” she ground out. 

“Did I not say, girl? I am saving her.” 

“How?” 

Not-Ash turned to her then, annoyance plain on his face, and Myr wondered then whether he would turn his boundless power unto her then. Fortunately, he turned away again, and she released the breath she hadn’t known she was holding. 

“They say that a coin is flipped when a golden-eyed child is born to a goblin tribe. On one side lays ruin, and on the other, prosperity. This girl, rather obviously, was dealt a poor hand. To be born with an affinity towards an ill fate is already a deathly thing, but to be born with an affinity as powerful as hers? It is a small miracle that she has lived as long as she has.” 

“That miracle will not last. She has survived this doom, but another will eventually claim her life, along with that of every other being that dares to stand beside her. Ash will undoubtedly be one of them, and you as well, likely.” 

“That is not something I can allow so I am sealing her affinity until such a time comes that she can control it herself. It is, obviously, a painful process. One’s affinity is not something meant to be played with, but it is something that must done, for everyone's good.” 

Myr would disagree with that notion but she would also admit to know nothing about what the being was speaking about. However, whilst she had its attention, she thought that she might as well prod. 

“Why him? Why Ash? He’s just a tier two. Why possess him? Who are y-” 

She froze, her mouth shut by a power greater than anything she’d felt before. Not-Ash turned to her then, a withering look on his face. “Quiet. Whatever else you wish to learn, it will come in due time. For now, let me be done with this task. This body cannot take my presence for much longer.” 

That would have shut Myr up even without any mana used to silence her. 

The chamber descended into quiet after that, Not-Ash focused on his task and Myr eventually loosed from the grip of shadow when she made it obvious that she would not interrupt again. 

It was nearly ten minutes later that his mana ceased and Not-Ash lowered Calixxa to the floor with surprising gentleness. “It is done.” he said, his voice strained. He turned to them then, his followers. 

“I assume that everything is prepared for his arrival?” 

The woman nodded. “Faultlessly. Master eagerly awaits his arrival.” 

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“No doubt. I have much to speak of with him, but my time grows short. You will explain everything he needs to know and ensure that the goblins choose to agree to my request.” 

“If they prove stubborn?” 

Not-Ash's face turned grim and ruthlessly dark. “Do what must be done. This child will not abandon this tribe easily.” 

“As you command.” 

The spectre turned then to face Myr, its stolen eyes assessing her before it spoke. “He cares greatly for you. Ensure that you do nothing to break that trust, else I will wreak an eternity of suffering upon you and such things can be dreadfully tedious.” 

Myr paled then, knowing full well that the creature was being entirely honest. She nodded weakly in response, and with that, the being shuddered and Ash’s body fell limp right into the pair of arms that moved with inhuman grace to catch him. 

◆◆◆◆◆ 

Ash had a dream. He dreamt of flying, and floating and swimming. He dreamt of being swept away in a great current towards destinations unknown, and yet he knew no fear or worry. Because the current carried him gently, like a mother’s embrace. He trusted it, and it took him far, to places he could scarcely imagine band onto battles of titanic proportions. He saw empires fall and peoples die, and then rise again and fall again. 

He saw much and more, and then he awoke, his dreams forgotten in those fleeting moments of waking. 

He was in his room in the temple, he realized quickly enough. How had he gotten here? He didn’t remember. 

The young man groaned as he groggily shifted out from underneath the covers and clambered onto his feet. His whole body felt sore and a strange sense of emptiness consumed his mind, as if something was missing that he was used to always being there. It felt odd, but it was unobtrusive enough that he pushed the feeling to the back of his thoughts. 

There were more important things to think about. Like the battle. 

Ash remembered charging out like a fool, consumed as he was by a volatile torrent of emotions. He remembered raising his blade at the Lord, as if that could have achieved anything beyond guaranteeing his own death. And then? 

Nothing. He remembered nothing save for waking here. 

What had happened? 

How had he survived? 

“You have awoken, oh blessed of blood.” 

Ash yelped, startled by the unexpected voice from right by his side. He swivelled on the balls of his heels and gaped at the two figures kneeling before him. 

“W-who the fuck are you two? What are you doing here?” 

The two seemed to take that as permission to rise. Their figures straightened and their eyes, red like blood, struck him with an intensity that nearly buckled his knees. As it was, it was all he could do to sidle away, searching for a weapon. Something. Anything. His daggers? His armour? 

No. Not even his mana. It was drained, not entirely, but enough that he was only at half his capacity, and slow besides. Like it had been when under the gargoyle’s aura. Were they doing it to him? 

“You need not fear us.” said a woman more striking than any he had seen before. He gulped warily as her eyes pierced into his. 

“Yeah, sure. I’ll take your word on that. Where’s Myr?” 

“She is in her room, waiting. I will summon her to you in a moment, but first, allow us to introduce ourselves, and explain our purpose here. May I?” 

The woman bowed, as if truly considerate of his response. Would she leave if he told her no? Should he? They hadn’t done anything dangerous just yet, their creepy watching him sleep aside. Surely, they could have harmed him already if they wanted to. 

That spoke in their favour, he thought. Besides, they were here, in the heart of the village, which meant that the goblins had allowed them through. They wouldn’t have allowed a risk to intrude upon their sacred temple, surely? 

Sylaxxa wou- 

Sylaxxa... was dead. The memory struck him like a hammer and Ash paused, all suspicion of the two before him lost in the wave of regret and anger that followed. She was dead, as was Senniaxx, and Roxxa, and dozens of other goblins. Dead. 

He clenched his fists tight. 

“The Lord... was it defeated?” he asked in a low voice. 

“Yes. It was driven away.” 

Driven away? There was no force in the village that had the strength to do that, so an external power then? Humans? But they would never be allowed into the forest, unless they took advantage of the situation to invade. Was that why these two were here? 

“Was it humans that did it?” 

Surprisingly, and perhaps fortunately, she shook her head. 

“A goblin tribe?” 

“No. It was you.” 

Ash paused; his next question plucked from his lips as he attempted to register the insanity that she’d just said. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You drove it away.” 

Ash blinked. 

Was she... mad? Or was this some kind of prank? To what end? 

“Are you joking right now?” 

“No. You, under the possession of the last true Sanguine Sovereign of the Vampyr Imperium, her Imperial Blood, Vismaya den Luveye, drove away the tier six beast.” 

Ash huffed with disbelief; his eyebrows as raised as they physically could be without leaving his face altogether. Was it just him, or did the woman seem to make less sense the more she spoke? 

Sanguine Sovereign? Vampyr Imperium? Possession? What? 

The woman bowed low again, as did the man, both uncaring for the clear disbelief written across his features. 

“My name is Lysandra, and this is Marten, and we have been tasked with leading your holiness back to your people. Your nation, and my master, your other half, the current Sanguine Sovereign, awaits your glorious return. Please, come with us.” 

Ash shook his head, entirely unable to comprehend even a tenth of what the woman was trying to lay on him. Where was all this coming from? What the fuck was going on? 

“T-This can’t be happening. Not really. This is insane. A mistake. I mean, what?” 

She stared at him; her gaze unyielding in her intensity. “This is no mistake. This is fate. You are the Sanguine Sacrosanct, the holy nexus of our people’s faith, and your people bid your return.”