Selm Vichra took a deep breath and began to recite, “Fourth Secrets Sufferer. Doused in flames before they have the chance to subside. Your eyes torn away and set back in place. Perpetual pain, inherently inherited.”
He clasped his hands together, a means of comforting himself as an insufferable tinge of pain spread throughout his body, behind his eyes. The Fourth Secret Sufferer may have accepted the perpetual pain, but Selm dreaded it.
What choice do I have, though? Selm sighed as the pain began to spread to the other parts of his body.
His entire body was overcome with great pain; it was as though hot oil had been poured over the top of him. He felt his skin boil, yet no welts appeared on the surface. He clawed at his arms, stomach, and chest before stopping entirely. It was always like this. He would desperately try to stop the pain before accepting it. He would experience this same pain again and again.
Perpetual pain, inherently inherited… He refrained from crying out in pain.
The room needed to be entirely dark. To achieve this, the door was sealed shut with a paste, letting no light in from the outside. This prevented any outside interference, though it also added to his delusions and made the nightmarish views even more real.
Selm slammed his hand against the desk in front of him and tapped his foot against the ground, taking in shallow breaths through gritted teeth.
Ah! Ahhh! He pried his mouth open, placing a soft cloth between his teeth, protecting them from splintering and shattering. He clenched them again, making sure the cloth was well set.
He pressed his back against the chair as he circled the inky splotches on his dark-stained desk with his fingers. Of course, in pure darkness, he could not see them. It did not matter, though; after spending so much time in this room, completing the same ritual so many times… he had memorized where they were.
Each inky splotch was sporadic and sized differently. Some were long and trailed across the desk, while others were large circles of pure black, hinting at a deeper context. This ramshackle ensemble of stains on the otherwise luxurious and neat desk gave the appearance that a wild animal had gotten access to the room. Its limbs coated in the deep ink as it flailed incessantly.
Selm knew the truth, though. This… is all me. My hands, covered in thick, black ink afterwards. The first time it happened, he was shocked. He had never been great at drawing, especially such lifelike images.
This was the reason for the large sheet of paper in front of him, as well as a vial of ink holding a fountain pen within. What will it be today?
After a familiar, gruesome whisper into both of his eyes, the outside of his vision began to fill up with an equally predictable vermillion hue. It waxed and waned in an unpredictable manner as the very edges darkened into crisp particles that flared up with flames before falling and fizzling into nothingness.
Here they come. Selm was confident in his general prowess, despite having a bond focused around the aspect of destiny. He had a tall figure, typical of a nymph, but even more so. He stood a couple inches taller than every other nymph he encountered. Naturally, no human could compare. Still, none of these aspects benefitted him in his grueling run from the nightmarish creatures.
Once the entirety of his vision had adopted the deep vermillion coloring, creatures of a familiar color began to manifest before his eyes. They were large, much larger than himself, than the room he was in. As their somewhat phantasmal figures had nearly entirely coalesced, the area behind his eyes began to burn with great passion.
In an instant, he reached up to claw at them. Then, he lost control of his hands, then his legs, then his mind. The world grew distant, colder, as the room he stood within grew—in an instant—to several hundreds of thousands of times its original size.
He was not surprised; this same event had happened many times. There was an aspect that was somewhat odd, though. Why has it expanded so much? The room had grown more than twice the usual amount. Well, some variation is typical.
Selm stood firmly in place on the ground. He watched the horizon of the floor move as it rippled with slight waves. With the expansion of the room came a large distance between himself and his bodily pain. He was in a more spiritual state. At least, that was what he always likened it to. Either way, he found it easier to concentrate.
The vermillion creatures finished coalescing; their figures were much larger than Selm had initially anticipated. Yet another deviation from the expected path of the ritual.
Now, a certain unease began to well up within him. He could not let this affect him, though. Right now he needed to put his all into escaping from the secare, bug-humans. As their forms neared fruition, sharp strokes of a pen against paper could be heard, wild, unreserved strokes.
The surroundings began to warp, sections at a time, in tune with the strokes of the pen. The blackened floor below replaced a flat base of sand. Anything else from the room was erased and replaced with a pristine blue sky; a large, red sun burned bright high above. Stone pathways spread out from a centerpoint and were laid out on top of the sand. Homes and shops began to coalesce on the corners where the pathways turned. They were made of cob—a mix of earth, straw, and other oddities. Their roofs were formed of slate tiles that reflected the bright sun’s light, and slight, dainty windows gave a glimpse into the space within each house.
He recognized the environment; it was Asanoch. As the scene around him finished forming, Selm felt a ping within his heart. He had experienced this enough to know that the vicious monsters had entirely coalesced by now.
Large buzzing sounds began to grow closer as the bug-human monsters entirely manifested. Their large stingers, humanoid figure, pincers, and sharpened rows of teeth struck fear into Selm’s heart.
Even these monsters are out of normal? He stepped back fearfully. Why are there multiple rows of teeth? The larger stingers and pincers, the overall size of their build, and the sound of their buzzing…
Selm gulped, looking up at the few monstrous creatures with horror as they eyed him with playful curiosity. Their vermilion eyes burrowing into his own. Their equally red figure reflected in the windows and slight puddles as rain began to fall, a bad omen.
He steeled himself as he began to run away, eagerly swinging open a door and sprinting into the house. The crashing of the door into the wall reverberated through the entire building, masking his hurried steps up the staircase.
Shelter is always a safe bet in these things…
Selm watched the bottom of the staircase, waiting for the bugs to chase after him. The eerie buzzing quieted, fading away for a moment. He felt the hair on his shoulders and back stand up as the presumed outcome never came.
Where are they? Selm looked around frantically. He darted for a window. They might not have been able to bust their way through the cob walls, but… What of a measly pane of glass?
The entire house shook as he scanned the outside of the window. There! A familiar couple of monsters were peering at him through it. Wh—
Crash! The ceiling caved as a stinger barreled towards the floor below. Selm threw himself away from the window, narrowly avoiding the quick death he would have suffered.
He had never experienced death in one of these rituals, so the penalties were unclear. The idea of finding out was not something he was too keen on. For all he knew, it could mean death for himself that was drawing the scene.
His face warped with a nervous smile as the vicious beast turned and looked at him with a cold gaze. It raised its stinger and flew forward; its large and daunting wings made a deafening buzzing sound behind. The stinger was close, much closer than it had been when the bug crashed through the roof. There was no time to throw himself out of the way.
Huuu! Selm steeled himself and dropped to his back, grabbing the stinger that was being thrust towards him with both hands. Their barbs cut deep into his hands. Yet another evolutionary step he had never encountered before.
He could not help but wonder if this was going to produce a more satisfactory result or if this was a sort of penalty for failing to properly adhere to the needs of the ritual. Maybe I accidentally let some light seep into the room? If someone opened that door… I’ll kill them!This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
The creature threw itself towards a window behind Selm. He braced himself as the glass shattered, splinters and shards digging into his back. Immediately, he was blinded by a serene sky; the rain had cleared, leaving only a pure, unwavering sun up high.
Selm did not have much time to admire, though the ground was swiftly approaching, and—despite his heightened fortitude—he was not immune to a fifteen-foot drop.
His gaze flicked upwards to the bug monster. Why are your flying capabilities so lackluster? It was at times like these that Selm always found himself wondering… Why couldn’t my bond have given me any true physical abilities?
Of course, his bond was potent. He had been handpicked by the Lauriers for this reason. It blessed him with great prophecies of the future in exchange for experiencing the pain of the Fourth Secrets Sufferer. Though, at this moment, with his hands being mangled by the barbed stinger, he wished it could have turned out slightly differently.
Still, I do get good pay! Selm forced a smile as his body approached the ground, along with the bug monster. Its wings were not great enough to hold up both of them. Gritting his teeth, he reached one hand higher, towards the base of the singer. He latched onto it with a firm grip as he pulled his body higher. Then, he swung his other arm around the back of the bug and grabbed onto its left wing. It made a loud, shrieking sound in response, but Selm was used to it. He pulled his arm down, tearing the wing and changing spots with the falling creature. Now, it was like a cushion between himself and the paved walkways.
“How''s that!” Selm yelled. He pulled his hand off of the stinger before they hit the ground. The force would have forced the barbs deeper into his flesh.
There was a subtle coloring that began to flood from the bug creature’s back. It was a dark orange color—a mix between a human’s deep red and a Helion’s greenish-yellow blood.
Selm smiled warmly at the thought of those moderately sized bugs. They were only a foot long and a few inches tall, but their bites burned with the heat of four suns. These large bug-human monstrosities made the slight Helions—which were already large for insects—seem small in comparison.
Bug let out a few slight sounds before its stomach began to cave in. The rest of its body followed, becoming mush and crumbling in on itself before beginning to dissipate into the same reddish mist that it had used to form itself initially.
Come on! Selm urged himself as he hurriedly pulled a container from one of his pockets. He eagerly tore a few pieces of the bug away before they dissipated and placed them into the container before sealing it shut. Please… He hoped, watching as the red mist continued to grow in the container. Eventually any physical matter within was gone and soon, the mist along with it.
Damn it! Selm cursed the bug creatures. Every time he began to illustrate a prophecy, he brought in another container. All in an attempt to bring back the slightest shred of evidence. He himself did not care much about it. His co-workers accused him of lying. The evidence was to show them that this was real. He held hope this time, yet it was all in vain. Why? That monster was abnormal. This prophecy is abnormal. Why could the rules not be bent a bit?
Selm sighed as quickening sounds of buzzing and fluttering grew louder and louder. He quickly looked for a place to hide. He found that another window was open. Sweat dripped from his head as he threw himself inside.
Both bugs wrapped around the corner, looking for any sign of Selm. They looked towards each other, on opposing ends, confused. There was no sign of Selm or any other life, only the faint idea that there had indeed been something.
Sitting against the wall, underneath the window sill, Selm held his breath. He relinquished the notion of peeking out of the window despite his mind yelling at him to do so. The bugs had heightened senses, enough to notice a slight eye in the corner of their vision. Selm had underestimated one part of their tracking potential, perhaps the most essential one. Their sense of smell was unrivaled by any other creature he had seen or heard of.
Shatter! Shards of glass, spread apart, littering the ground in front of Selm. He looked up, seeing a twisted, contorted face looking back down at him, where the window should have been.
The wall threatened to break apart, and Selm hurried away. Seriously, when is this going to be over!? He panicked, hearing the constant and hurried strokes of a fountain pen against paper. Ordinarily, the ritual should have been over by now.
Both bug-human monsters flooded into the house through the newly collapsed wall. They chased after him, ascending the staircase with their warped legs. Chittering and buzzing sounds emanated from them. These sounds were voracious, harboring what felt to Selm like an acute sense of disdain for his murder of their friend.
Selm pulled a nearby table, sat next to a bed, and pushed it back down the staircase towards them. He was especially afraid now. Before, he had never managed to kill one of the three monsters. Any pieces of them he had tried to bring back were the result of self-inflicted injury.
Quickly, the sculpted piece of wooden furniture descended the staircase, creating a series of loud bangs and ramming into both bug monsters and collapsing into a few different pieces. This did not stop the advancing monsters, though. Their bodies remained completely intact, with no sign of any damage.
Selm’s eyes widened. That definitely should have done something! More than something, actually! A whole lot; that should have done a whole lot! He cursed within, watching as the monsters approached. His only advantage was—somewhat contradictorily—their largest advantage. Their figure, large and overwhelming, forced the monsters to put thought into how they moved, slowing them down immensely.
After a moment of shock, he noticed something. Selm noticed slight growths on the shoulder blades of the monsters. It looked like another set was forming overtop their original pair. His mind spun as he considered the possibilities.
Killing their companion caused these growths to form on them? This was the only conclusion that made sense. In no other prophecy had he ever noticed such a detail, which meant it needed to be connected to their companion’s death.
Of course, and if it was a direct result of the strangeness of this ritual, then the growths would have begun forming as soon as they formed… Selm felt a tinge of warmth in his heart as he felt that after years, he might have uncovered a piece of the truth behind how these rituals operated. I can’t get complacent, though!
Selm ran into a room to the left, pulled a blanket from a luxurious bed, and leaped out of the window. The glass shattered around his form, the blanket protecting him by dampening the force and neglecting the crystalline shards. He tossed the blanket aside in the air, grabbing onto a pipe on the side of the building across from him.
Huh! He exhaled a sigh of relief as he scaled the pipe, climbing onto the roof. As he finished pulling his body onto the slate roof tiles, he heard a crash from behind him.
The wall around the window he had just jumped from collapsed in an instant, and in its place, two monstrous bugs. Selm expected it, though, already beginning to run across the rooftops. The buildings were close together, easily enabling the ability to hop from one to the other, like stepping stones.
Now, out in the open, Selm could feel the prophecy coming to an end. The world began to fade around him, starting from the horizon. A buzzing sound briefly overtook him as he turned, shying away from any sense of relief. He threw himself to the side as a stinger darted past him.
“Ah!” Selm yelled, scrambling to keep hold of the slate tiles as he slid towards the bottom of the sloped roof. His fingernails tearing into the tiles, blood beginning to drip from them.
He looked down at the world below. Through bated breaths, he pulled himself up and into a pool of blood. It was formed not only from his fingers, robbed of their nails, but also his hands and arms, shredded by his previous latch onto the deceased monster’s stinger.
The second, more conniving of the two remaining monsters approached from below, narrowly missing the lengthy nymph as he began to run again.
This time, Selm made sure to keep an open ear and occasionally look back towards them. With the entirety of his being, he continued jumping from rooftop to rooftop, all the while feeling the prophecy gradually collapse in on itself.
Houses began to disappear, and sand turned to nothingness as the buzzing sounds grew louder and louder. Selm looked backwards and saw their singers approaching. His flesh tore apart as his bones shattered. He felt his crimson blood begin to pour out as the world faded away entirely.
Huh! Huu! Selm sat up and reached his arms backwards, feeling where the stinger had pierced him. He brought them forward again, realizing that there was no blood. Okay, good to know…
He raised himself from the cold floor and felt the wall beside him. His fingers gracefully slid along the various pages, stuck to the wall. His gaze swept the room to confirm his theory. Really? No light was let in... He scratched at his smooth face in curiosity.
Light spread throughout the room as he opened the door, breaking the seal between it and the floor below. Every prophecy was illuminated, along with the messy table and even floor around it. There was ink everywhere, and the piece of paper in the center of it all was much more detailed than any prophecy that came before.
“I see,” Selm said out loud as he finally understood the bizarre features of his prior near-death scenario.
He stepped closer, but warily. It was as though there was a terrifying presence still lingering in the air. A warning that he did not believe to be real but still wanted to heed. Carefully, he lifted the paper up. The weight of all the ink on it tried to push it back down, but Selm retained a firm grip.
Drawn in great detail was a crowded street, full of people standing in front of their houses, crowding around a large rift in space. There were flowers or something similar littering the area around the rift. All of these people were looking at two figures, a tall, female nymph and a shorter man. They cheered for their return.
Hmm? That person looks like… Selm sighed as he dipped his fingers into a small tin and stepped over to a blank area on the wall in front of him, unobscured by any of his other prophecies. He rubbed the fingers he had dipped along the top edge of a dark brick, lathering it. Then, he pressed the top of the paper against it, melding them together.
Selm took a few steps back and said with his voice slightly raised, “Kharnan?” There was no response aside from the slight tapping of a boot outside. This was enough for Selm, though, typical of the silently observing man, always watching through a puppet. With a slight frown growing on his face, he crossed his arms and said, “Could you inform the ultimate that this prophecy… is something that she has to see?”