“I know most of you here would like to believe you already know what you’re doing, but you do not want to stray from the pyre.” The instructor’s voice wavers slightly, tone sounding almost detached from the influence of the aether emanating from our group’s only form of protection— elemental fire conjured with corpses of some of the beings out to get us, haphazardly arranged to grant a temporary safe haven from the surrounding forest that does not want us within it.
I shiver; a motion not brought on by the cold but by something else entirely. Beneath the thick branch of a tree I’m sitting on, the instructor paces warily as four of my temporary members— students such as I— try to calm him down. “Yes, Mr. Wilray. I am entirely aware of Ms. Kawakami’s capabilities. However, if she is not back before the fire dies, I have full authority to call off this venture, send a crusading party to find the missing girl, and give your group a failing grade—”
Turning away from the ordeal, I feel the paper taped on my shoulder with my hand anxiously before leaping down an area not reached by the purple flames. It heats up slightly as my boots hit the ground, and the silence that follows as a result of my rune makes me smile.
Here, several feet from the clearing, I could no longer hear my human companions nor could I feel the protection from the pyre. No. Here, nothing lies between me and the hostile grounds of the Eden woods.
The winds whistle to a specific direction— one most mentioned by those who had warned us of the dangers of this night’s moonlight in particular touching the entirety of this area cast in murk. I find myself swayed by its tune, walking with my feet always meeting with its wilted pathway.
First, a cacophony of voices from indistinguishable beings. They grow louder as I feel my surroundings shift. And then, after some time, with every step I take, the discordance settles ever-so-slightly until my ears could not set it apart from that of music resembling symphonies I’ve only ever heard talked about and not made.
I only halt when they stop entirely and I am face-to-face with what I had wanted to encounter.
“T-the castle of the demonic order.” I whisper to myself, crouching as if I have any chance of staying hidden from any loitering watchmen.
The architectural wonder stands imposingly atop a floating piece of land, cloaked in the mantle of the lulling night. I couldn’t catch more than the glimpse of its silhouette and I do not need to. I feel it more than I see it. This place where misery rejoices; here, this place where so many had fell, and many yet to; here, this place as proof against good-endings and fairytales.
And for a fleeting selfish moment, I pretend, here, this place of my beloved’s.
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