《The Alchemist: Rewind》 The end of my story - ¡°The skies will plunge into a sea of sorrow [¡­] and the black star will make fester the old scars. Disruption of the world order is imminent. [¡­] by the advent of nightmares we shall perish¡± fragments of page 15, The Last Book, Anonymous. - May I ask how do you interpret these words, master? - Yes!, he says with an enthusiastic look, I would be more than glad to! - I see you are more cheerful today, I respond, mildly surprised but in a matter of fact tone. - Is that so, he ponders while caressing his curly mustache, well that¡¯s because I¡¯ve finally did it! I admit, I screwed up! Haha! - Shut the fuck up, old man, didn¡¯t we tell you to keep quiet? - Hey, hey, careful with that rusty spear over here, ouch! - If it is not discourteous to your grace, would you lay down your weapon? We are already surrounded, there is nothing to achieve by making my master uncomfortable aside from sating the hatred you harbor. - Tsc! You¡¯re lucky to have such a loyal retainer by your side. Why did someone like you choose the life of an assassin is beyond me¡­ Suit yourself! Barks the guard while setting a distance. - These youngsters¡­ Pay respect to your elders! - Don¡¯t push your luck, master, and thank you for your kindness, I react, quick to notice the bloodshot eyes of the rage induced warrior. - Where was I again¡­ - Page fifteen. ¡°The skies will plunge into a sea of sorrow [¡­]¡±. - Right, right, that one! It was most likely written during the First Great Cataclysm, in which a giant fire boulder raining from the skies collapsed upon arrival, causing severe impacts on the geographical configuration of the East Empire, while also greatly affecting other areas duo to the rise on temperature. However, the advent of nightmares is a tricky one¡­ What do you think? Why would master read such a book in a situation so dire? The question does not trigger my anxiety, for I am hardly surprised by anything, but it is quite unexpected of him to fall for his addiction: history, while our entire clan gets slaughtered in this ambush by the army. I don¡¯t know if it is madness, an act, or the unveiling of his true, inner self. Regardless, I play along. - Records from after that period are unlikely to be found, considering the total destruction of what would be today¡¯s East Empire. Tomes, scrolls, books and other such evidence that survived the catastrophe couldn¡¯t be written post-effect. - Your point? - My guess is that this book was written by a religious adept or fanatic, maybe even a mathematician, astronomer, or someone involved in architecture, that was able to predict the fall. In that specter, the last line could mean anything, or hold no meaning at all, which is what I support. - Hmm¡­ I see your point¡­ Bahaha! History sure is misleading, don¡¯t you all agree? He asks, directing the question to all of those men of the king who wear blood tarnished masks and expressions as dead as cold iron; it is not a heartwarming conversation. We are running on a short leash. I hear heavy steps coming from upstairs, no doubt to be the commander in lead. Our time has come to an end, and I¡¯m fine with that. I don¡¯t seek forgiveness, I don¡¯t wish for atonement, and I regret nothing. Master will be beheaded, but I would rather have a more peaceful ending. I know it is selfish, but a dead woman fears no judgment. - Master, would you like to pass from history to the studies of plants? - Sigh¡­ Is it that time already? Damn¡­ I may as well learn what is edible or not before I travel to the unknown! - Aspersius, also known as Stargazer or Night Stalker, is one of over thirty species of plants with nocturnal characteristics. These perennial plants can only grow in the soils of a mountain meadow or near caves. Among them, only Aspersius is poisonous enough to pose a threat to humans. - If you ingest any of its parts, you may suffer from nausea, vomiting and diarrhea, which is followed by a sensation of burning and numbness around specific parts of the body. Although in some people it manifests as more severe conditions, such as the spreading of numbness to all limbs and rapid decay of intellectual capacities, as well as features such as sweating and dizziness, all victims will ultimately die from paralysis of the heart or of the respiratory center. It is, however, a slow-acting drug. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. - On the other hand, I proceed, taking a very small flask holding a white gleaming liquid, a strong enough dose of this venom is capable of instantly killing any human being. A flask of 20 mL is enough to wipe out an entire kingdom. - Ohh! I wonder why you¡¯ve never told me about such a wonderful poison! Would make our lifes so easy! - It would indeed prove useful. Sadly, there are many risks involved in its maneuvering, and thus I have never bothered mentioning this plant. I thought it would be a good occasion for an insight, considering I have never had the opportunity to test it on a human. - A very interesting display of your knowledge, mister, or should I say miss, Alchemist, says the commander, descending from the stairs and clapping his hands on pure admiration. - Thanks for the compliment. His stern gaze turns into pure disgust at the sight of my master. Why did I receive such differentiated treatment, I don¡¯t know. Maybe his cruel deeds overshadow my presence. - I see you didn¡¯t kill him right away? Must I remember you of eight years ago, when we had him on our hands, but we chose to execute him at the capital? Tell me what happened! - Sir¡­ - I¡¯ll tell you what happened! We were raided! And he escaped amidst the chaos of battle! It took us this much time to find him again, and I¡¯m not willing to waste any more in this witch hunt! - Yes Sir! Shouted the guard, stabbing master¡¯s heart and then cutting off his head. It was so quick he was unable to mutter his final words, although I doubt they would be of any importance. - Now¡­ Woman. Any final words? Asks me the commander. - My master believed in an unknown world. It is from this world we came, and to which we return. That belief may be part of the reason he was unfazed about his death. - I see, but what about you? - I hold no such beliefs, and the existence or not of a god, or gods, is of minimal importance to me. From the start, I had a duty. I could not be raised as a skilled assassin, prominent in martial arts, and my studies were focused solely on poisons, herbs, plants and, when there was nothing more to learn, I went outside to hone my skills. - It was during one of these journeys that I found master. He gave me something I was not able to find anywhere else: a meaning, a purpose in life, the feeling that I was needed and that I had found my place. Now, such place ceased from existence, and my meaning is gone. The commander stood in deep silence, giving off a heavy aura, digesting the words spoken. - Have you, not a single time, thought about the lives you¡¯ve destroyed while following this path? - Not once. - Then I shall end your life right now. - Can I ask you one thing, as my last wish, commander? - Although you definitely do not deserve it¡­ I don¡¯t see a reason not to. - I don¡¯t wish to be killed like an animal. I want my appearance to look peaceful and unfazed. - And how do you suggest we do this? Know that we are not willing to give you much time. - I won¡¯t take away your precious time, commander. In my hands, I hold a flask with one of the deadliest poisons in existence. One sip and I will die an instant death. - Alright¡­ Do it now. Before I gulp down the liquid, I stare into his eyes: - Please don¡¯t hate us. Hatred is one of the most powerful venoms humanity has ever tasted; it will prevent you from being true to your own path. Now, the deepest sleep¡­ - Sir¡­ - We¡¯re done here, boys. Grab his head and burn this place down! - Yes Sir! Fourteen years ago *************************************************************************************************** TheAlchemist -> Was planning to release this on 15/08 and try making weekly publishes, but the first chapter didn''t tell much about the direction of this, so i released it early. I''ll change the title of first chapter, too (it was supposed to be just The End, but rr stabilishes a minimum of 10 characters). *************************************************************************************************** - On your tables are many types of strong alcoholic drinks. Some of them have been poisoned. - What you need to do is simple. Have a cup of each one of these. If you deem it poisoned, you can spit it without drinking. But if it turns out the drink is poison free¡­ Where am i? - The test has begun! No matter how further I look, these people are from the organization. - Number zero three, do you not wish to take part in this test? No doubt, I am in the proving grounds. If that¡¯s so, I need to leave these thoughts for later. - Sorry, professor. From what I recall, a quarter of the class dies from today¡¯s probations. Specifically from the earlier ones. There are seven different drinks, all possessing an intense flavor and equally strong smell. The point of this test is that you cannot deem which drink is poisonous from the smell alone, unless you have a very sharp sense of odor. Even if you do it¡¯s hardly noticeable, partly because all of the children are opening the bottles at around the same time, flooding the senses. On the other hand, the strong taste may also overstimulate the tongue, while too much alcohol holds a numbing effect, making it harder to perceive poison in the next bottle. - This one is fine. - This¡­ Is poisoned. Interesting. With this strong a smell, my nose would have been destroyed... A younger me. - Number zero three, if you are finished, proceed to the next room and await further instructions. - Yes, professor. - Stop! Shouts the adjutant. - Yes? - Show me that necklace. - Yes¡­ I don¡¯t remember this part. - What is it, brother? - How did you get your hands on this...? - Don¡¯t tell me that flask¡­ Should I be surprised? I don¡¯t know, honestly. How should I explain it... - Number three, respond our question! - I don¡¯t know¡­ I only noticed it now, professor. The two of them look at me with curious, yet cautious, eyes. I don¡¯t blame then, an eleven years old trainee is holding enough Aspersius for an entire nation to vanish, for the organization to disappear. - Do you know what that is? - No, professor. - Really¡­ - I would never lie to you, professor. I have sworn undying fealty to the ones who brought me in. Assassins are wary of everything, but they act within reason. Most of the time. - Good¡­ Move on. I do as commanded and, as I distance myself, they begin whispering. - Hmph, I would never imagine the first one to pass through the doors to be you, says the teacher of the next room. - Professor, am I given permission to ask a question related to the next test? - You may voice your doubts. - I myself noticed that the current me is weak and in need of the superior guidance of assassins such as professor. Even being able to openly speak with professor and be part of his lessons is a great honor. - Hmm¡­ - With that in mind, and nurturing a wish to one day, maybe, be as skilled as professor, I ask for a more difficult and harsh test. - What¡­ Do you think poor of our methods, is that what you¡¯re saying? - My thoughts are elsewhere, teacher. I clearly understand that we are being trained not as colleagues, but as rivals. Those who realize the nature of this competition will also realize the tests are a legitimate way to strengthen one self. - Having a harsh training schedule in comparison to my fellow rivals will benefit me, if I am able to best it. If I am burdening professor, and the organization, with such words, I ask forgiveness. And pardon for my rudeness, professor, but regardless of the answer I am received with, I will independently strive for the path of a true assassin. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. - Who taught you how to speak? - I know my place. - You are able to demonstrate it¡­ No matter, your test won¡¯t be any different. - Honor to you, professor. The purpose of this conversation was not a more difficult test, as the next one is different on the overall. I want them to quickly notice I am not a normal child. Nonetheless, being overly cautious with my words, not being able to speak freely, is tiresome. On the previous topic, there are many unclear motifs behind this chain of events. I have never witnessed the effects of Aspersius on a human being. If it was the cause, why is the same flask with me? A parallel event? Or is it unrelated? Why this far back and not on another point? Is there a reason gearing it? Something needs change? About being an assassin, or regarding the organization? Maybe someone whom I should meet, or save, kill. It might mean nothing. The only clue is the poison, but currently i can do nothing to answer the previous questions. I may never come upon an answer. What do I want to see changed? What could I have done better? And what should I seek in this life that I was unable to achieve in the past one? - All of you, line up. For now it matters not, and I should focus on what is presented before me. - Number zero one, come forward. A child with strange eyes. He was the one most favored by the higher ranks, and also the one closer to me. I barely remember him now. - Number zero three, forward. - Yes. It was on this day that I had lost hope, fully embracing the way of the assassin, as it was the only way to protect myself. - As your mentors, we feel obliged to guide you to the right path. However, some are unable to see the harsh reality of this path, and unknowingly stray from our lessons, says the oldest teacher, the one who possesses a failing voice but devouring eyes, eyes targeted at zero one. - Most of you won¡¯t understand what is about to happen, but I assure you it is for a greater purpose and that you will be thankful later. Proceed with the ceremony. - Yes. - The objective of this test is only one: to kill your opponent. - T-teach¡­! - Of course, we are not ordering you to beat each other to death. Weapons will be provided. - I¡­ I can¡¯t¡­ - Number zero one, do you have anything to say? - I can¡¯t¡­ Do it¡­ - It is not for you to decide. Grab your weapon! pressures the teacher as he tosses two knifes on the floor. I don¡¯t hurry myself to grab it, I know zero one won¡¯t react immediately. - Fight! - Teacher¡­ What happens if we don¡¯t fight? - Then you both are failures and will be treated as such. You know what I mean, don¡¯t you? With that line, zero one roots himself before staring at the knife. He looks at the teacher, at the others, at me, at the cellar. A silent cry for help, which no one will attend to. Then, just as fourteen years ago, he will mutter my name, the name he has given me, which I long forgot. - Ame¡­ Afterwards, I sat down crying, whispered a name¡­ The name I beckoned him with. - I¡¯m¡­ Sorry¡­ he mutters, right before trying to rush me with the blade, on a desperate clumsy move. What is it that made me stand up and fight him? Why did the weak me choose this path all the while knowing the life i was striving to maintain was nothing but suffering and disgrace? I can no longer understand the feelings that drove me, for I drifted too far away. - Gaaah! He squeals... And squirms and dies beneath my feet, blood covering the stained wooden mat. I wonder what would happen had he killed me instead, i wonder if his life was worth more than mine, which doesn''t amount to much. But, it has been a very long time since my heart beat so fast. I want to live ******************************************************************************************* TheAlchemist -> Hell yeah I had some fun writing this. But only when i had finished it, cuz otherwise it was sad, deleting 500+ words over and over again because I asked myself "is that actually meaningful information for the story i wish to write, or just filling for a word quota?". I will add the psychological tag to the fiction, too. Possibly change the summary. *************************************************************************************************** - Master, I bring you reports from the third settlement. - The ceremony? - Yes, master. - I assume you bring me interesting results. Don¡¯t bother me with pesky matters, otherwise. - The results are interesting yes, but not what one would expect. - What is so intriguing? - The students who showed the most promising results have, for the most part, failed. The ones who defeated them were some of the weakest of our class. - Hmph, what a waste of time. - The report doesn¡¯t end here, master. One student, number zero three, passed the poisoned drinks trial in less than two minutes, although she did not fare so well on the previous exams. - Luck. Unlikely, but not impossible. - We don¡¯t discard the possibility. But¡­ I don¡¯t think it is coincidence that the same student killed the most talented child of our quarters, demonstrating cool judgment and proficiency with the knife. Moments before, she had also asked one of our members for a more difficult test. Her speech was remarkable, revealing wit and cunning. - This¡­ Is indeed interesting. What was the student¡¯s reaction at shedding the blood of her peers? - Unfazed. She did not react in any way. - Shock? - Quite the opposite. From the poisoned drinks test till now, she has shown all the qualities of a cold blooded killer. - Keep her under watch; we may have stumbled upon an unusual talent. - Yes, master. - Is there anything else the third settlement would like to report? - There is one more thing about that child I have not mentioned¡­ - More? It keeps getting interesting. - We have found this, attached to her necklace. The assassin hands out a tiny flask, filled with the white glowing liquid you are acquainted with. - We have allowed ourselves to test it on an animal, and it showed a series of symptoms before vanishing completely, few hours later. We have a separate report for the experiment, if master is interested. There¡¯s no evidence as to what it is made of, but we do have an idea¡­ - This¡­ You mean Aspersius, don¡¯t you? - Yes. From my researches, it seems unmistakable. - But then¡­ That would mean¡­ - Yes, master. The book is not fictional, all that is written there is likely the truth. - If that is indeed the truth... The man stuttered, hesitation clearly showing on his concerned tone. - Master? - Statik, bring that child to the eighth settlement. - But this place is¡­ - Statik, are you going against me? - No, master. I didn¡¯t mean to¡­ - Be gone. - Yes¡­ *************************************************************************************************** - Wake up¡­ - Yes, I respond, my eyelids loosening in half a second, for my sleep is lighter than a feather. Dawn has yet to arrive, and I am sleepy. - You are coming with us. - Yes¡­ These people are from the order¡¯s main branch, I suppose. Coming from that far just for me doesn¡¯t go with their standards, so it must be for the flask. At that point, they must already know I am not normal. I expected one more day for them to come, but that¡¯s alright. There is¡­ A lingering feeling of uncertainty I cannot wave off. I have never been led by instincts, but this situation¡­ It doesn¡¯t feel right. Is it because they¡¯re from the main branch? Because the sun has yet to rise? Maybe for their quick response? Yes, it is quite strange they came so quickly, but these don¡¯t quite match with the feeling I get. - Walk faster, whispered one of them, only loud enough for it to be heard. The way we¡¯re headed to, I¡¯m familiar with it. They are in such a hurry... - Quick, we don¡¯t have much time¡­ - Shh¡­ Be quiet, I hate noise. I do not recall any of this happening in the past, and that night I was unable to sleep. Their objective, if any, is not the organization, but me. However, I only have value to the order ¨C for a third party, any of these children would be of the same importance, and I scrap involvement of the government by how fast the plan is being executed. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. What do I possess that makes me a target outside of these grounds? Who is it that can oppose the order? It could be someone from inside the organization, or strongly engaged in its affairs. But if my presentiment is right, it is about my return. They must know something the order doesn¡¯t, that I don¡¯t: and I shall stick with them, if that¡¯s the case. If it isn¡¯t, I can only hope to fight back when the moment arrives. - How do you plan to escape from here? There is no exit to this side. - Huh? - I already know what is happening, no need to hide. I won¡¯t fight back. - Right¡­ That lifts some weight on us. - We will answer all of your questions later. For now, just follow us. The last voice is feminine, mystical, bewildering; owner of melody and harmony out of this world. Pleasing, but misleading¡­ If I were to describe it as a ¡°red colored voice¡±, it would likely not be far from the truth. That I would have such an impression is a strange surprise. Our steps echo through the underground as our pace increases. It quickly escalates into desperate running, and the teachers should soon notice us. That¡¯s not good, they can¡¯t survive an encounter with the order. No, I¡¯m not thinking straight; realistically, there is no chance for them to get out of here, let alone live. Invading the manor is relatively easy, but getting out is a feat close to impossible. Still, they seem very confident on pulling the move. What is it they are hiding? - We¡¯re really close. - Certainly¡­ My breathing becomes gradually heavy and my skin is tingling. - What is this pressure¡­? I mutter quietly. The air should not be that tight down here, I can hardly breathe without feeling my lungs being firmly gripped. I don¡¯t know by how much I can keep going without blanking out. - It¡¯s coming¡­ My body falls earlier than I had expected it to, but I maintain consciousness. I can¡¯t move, and there is something more dreadful than my teachers lurking by this corridor. It is infusing me with a feeling I had not experienced in a long time¡­? Corridor? How didn¡¯t I notice we were running down a straight line? And it¡¯s dark, even for the underground. What is this place, how did it turn out this way? - Gah¡­! My lungs¡­ - Shit, grab her! - Sigh¡­ I did tell you about the noise, so stop being so loud¡­ My heart feels like it is going to explode, I feel dizzy and sweaty, my chest aches and my stomach hurts. It is unreasonable that I¡¯ve become like this, it isn¡¯t a side effect of any of yesterday¡¯s tests, although some of the symptoms could stem from the lack of sleep. If anything, it must be an emotional trigger. I open my mouth by a little, trying to chug any amount of air I can suck in, but just that small amount makes me cough and suffocate. - Don¡¯t worry¡­ Everything will be alright. I¡¯m well aware of this feeling. It is one I had forever buried inside me and never let out, and I am sure every single one of my comrades, should I call them that, did so themselves, just as my last master and the previous ones, the band¡¯s mercenaries, my teachers¡­ This feeling. It is called fear. - Close your eyes. A howl, so grotesque it can¡¯t be described by words, so loud it pierces my ears, leaving nothing but a ringing bell crashing on me. Even if i don¡¯t see the creature, I can feel it coming from behind at an incredible speed. We can¡¯t run away, we can¡¯t possibly escape it¡­ No, why am I so scared? Do I really amount to just that? Lack of empathy, quick thinking, flawless judgment, no qualms for erasing a living being: all attributes I sought after in order to survive in my harsh world. I am such a hypocrite¡­ All i had ever said before, of death, not caring about it, a sense of duty, a reason for living: they were nothing but words of a fool. During all that time, I was riding on someone else¡¯s dream, without accomplishing anything on my own. The reason why I so easily accepted my death was not because life held no meaning - but because I¡¯ve never been alive. Is that why I have been offered a second chance? No, it doesn¡¯t matter¡­ It¡¯s pointless to have such thoughts in this hopeless situation. An abyssal creature, a demoniac beast, a foe I never thought I would meet in my short existence, something a puny human could never ever dream of understanding. On what I swear to be my last moments, something rolls down my face. It is not sweat, but a tear. - Damn¡­ I mutter, tears streaming by my swollen face as my lifeless eyes gaze into the depths of darkness. I want to live. I really, really do. Owner of the dark voice ... It is cold and dark, just like a cave. I barely hear a whisper, but the overall silence deepens the sound of water dripping on the hard surface, from stalactites I¡¯m guessing. Doesn¡¯t matter where it¡¯s coming from, what happened is the real question. During times like this one should remain calm and think over the past and current events, but it doesn¡¯t take much to realize it¡¯s futile as is. Another surge of fear comes bursting as I feel the brushing of a sound wave, one that invites the presence of that same unseen creature that terrorizes me to this moment. I don¡¯t think there¡¯s a need to be wary, but I can¡¯t help feeling this way ¨C truth is, I don¡¯t know how should I interpret these strange emotions I¡¯ve been sensing, and not knowing scrapes off my ever distant self. It is like I¡¯m discovering another side of me, or unburying the remains of my childhood¡­ It bothers me to no end, while I shouldn¡¯t care. - I would tell you to open your eyes, were they not open already. How do you feel, child? It is her. Whenever I hear this voice, I calm down, almost as if I am dreaming. But it only serves to worsen the crisis. I need an explanation, more than that, I demand an explanation. - The question is not how I feel, but rather why do I feel? You people brought me in, surely you have some knowledge of this. Why am I not dead, why did the venom come back with me, what was that creature and what is this place¡­ Who are you and why do your voice soothes me? After a brief moment, I notice how much distressed I¡¯m appearing to be. How unbecoming of a trained killer, what am I doing really? Now I¡¯m recalling the times with one of my previous masters, the one who teach me the ins and outs of the assassin¡¯s code. He had me nicknamed Broken Doll. I was clumsy with my experiments, timid, overly cautious, zealous ¨C but most of all, driven by fear and rage, governed by feelings. I have always been treated as the useless one in the bunch, and my achievements were nothing but dumb luck in the elder¡¯s eyes. Back then I blamed then, now I can blame myself for accepting my fate as the trash they said I was. Accepting is much easier than fighting back. Strange thing is, from my group only I survived long enough to do missions for the order. No matter how well you do in training, it all comes down to whether or not you¡¯ll be successful in actual missions ¨C and in that regard I exceled. Some of them got unlucky, becoming disabled from excessive training or from experiments with deadly results, same for the ones who contracted incurable diseases and changed to the Death Flag unit which is basically a last resort if everything fails ¨C but rarely do things fail so they end up being discarded when the toll becomes too high for them to execute their jobs. Some of my comrades would go wild and rebel against our teachers, and the only proof of their existence would be the testimony of many of us who heard the tortured screams during the night. Never heard of someone who strayed successfully. The order probably wouldn¡¯t want such information to spread anyway. Luck is, indeed, a factor. Thinking about it made me regain my senses and turn back to my usual self. - Now, now, dear, don¡¯t be unreasonable. Just like you, me and my comrades are overridden by doubts, and fears to an extent. We too have things to ask of you, but before all else, please trust us for now and attend to a ceremony. Afterwards, you may speak freely and we will provide you with all we know. - Sorry about it, I say not quite satisfied, please tell me about this ceremony. - Right now, you are about to enter a world known only to a chosen few. We who inhabit this world do what we must to hide its existence from you outsiders, but some born with the ability will eventually cross the borders. You, my dear, are one of those, and to pass between the gates, just like being reborn, you must receive a new name.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. I nod and follow her from the shadows. Her voice makes it easier to accept what has been said, but it¡¯s also due to the fact any normal explanation doesn¡¯t seem to fit in. As I walk behind her, I feel the urge to ask her name ¨C normally it wouldn¡¯t matter, but in this place your name seems precious enough that it becomes relevant to know. So I do, and her steps slow down as to think over it. - Sorry but, presently, I cannot give you my name. It is something you can only offer to someone you have absolute trust in. To many of us, our name equals our life. Asking me my name is the same as asking me to tear my heart out and place it in your hands. The woman comes to a stop, turning to face me. I can now see her golden eyes gleaming in the dark, like a cat¡¯s. - Would you protect it, keep it safe and beating, or would you sink your nails and burst it open? Can I trust you, child with no name? - That I don¡¯t know, I respond quietly, and that¡¯s why you shouldn¡¯t. - Correct, you cannot place your heart in the hands of the unknown. I wouldn¡¯t. However, you can call me the Storyteller. Why Storyteller? I think I can ask, but with more pressing matters I don¡¯t bother doing it. Plus, we have reached our destination. It is the monster, but I can¡¯t feel anything anymore ¨C which is all I¡¯ve been wishing for since I¡¯ve reached this place. - The one to name outsiders is the Guardian of the First Gate. Just step forward to be in his presence. I do as instructed, but after a long wait, nothing happens. In this darkness I can still feel the presence of the Storyteller, but it is rapidly fading, giving room to the monster. I cannot feel the ground I walk on any longer, nor can I hear the drops of water falling nearby, all I feel is the shadow of a creature hideously overpowering and its eyes devoid of empathy. - You are a strange occurrence in this world of ours, girlie, and I don¡¯t mean the usual one, neither am I implying it¡¯s a good or bad thing. At all. Diversely from Storyteller¡¯s, the Guardian¡¯s voice is crackled and filled with distortion, making me waver on my feet. My mind, unlike my body, firmly stands the onslaught of his powerful tone. - How many are the gates that lead into this world? I ask him out of sheer curiosity, although uncertain if I want to prolong the conversation more than needed. - Five gates in total, each of its guardians owners of a different voice. The First Gate is my domain, but don¡¯t mistake me for a creator of rules, I am merely the one who keeps the engines working, much like the other four. - What is that voice you speak of? - There¡¯s no way to explain it precisely in your guttural language, but I can work on it. People who are born to this world each have voice with color and shape. Putting it roughly, the qualities of your voice will determine your capabilities, as well as your limits, in this world. - I see¡­ And I suppose it¡¯s linked to a name. - That is an expected response based on what few information you have, but not quite so. While the voice goes to show what you can be, a name reveals what you are right now, and is prone to change, though such things are unusual, since the core is dense. Typically, names are only given after the voice has fully matured, with different development curves for each individual, but such rules don¡¯t apply to you outsiders. Have you any more questions? Else I shall give you your name. - I have many¡­ But I ought to seek answers later, in a more appropriate setup. - As you wish. Know that the reason outsiders are sent to me has to deal with the colors of your voices. On this side of the coin people vary between three colors, a shape and how it fairs in the balance. I am the one who deals with the later, either classifying a voice as darker or lighter. Most of them are only slightly off in the balance of things, but outsiders more often than not come with those two patterns: either very close to one side of the spectrum, or perfectly in the middle of it. The monstrosity comes to a stop, when it emits disturbing noises much unsettling to my ears and that shakes my insides deeply. I can¡¯t feel comfortable around it. - Your name shall be Hollowed Dark Star, owner of the pitch black voice. Things explained - Why did you choose a name like this? - You should figure that for yourself. Ought to seek answers another time, I¡¯ve heard you say. Emptiness, a quality sought after in every killer, a complete disregard for compassion and human life. That¡¯s what I figured from my latter years in the band of mercenaries, though I might have overestimated the power of a name. It may be as shallow as the moment, not as dense as water. It is rather disappointing how things have developed. Isn¡¯t it that I¡¯m still being led by the assassin¡¯s code? I can¡¯t envision anything outside of it. The existence of this world opens up new paths for me, I just need someone to show me a different point of view. Immediately returning to the cave, Storyteller asks me to breath into a round cup. It is a test that reveals the shape of your voice, which can come in a variety of ways. - How unfortunate¡­ Albeit this should be for the better good. - What did you see that makes you say that? I ask her, for I cannot see the form. The woman approaches me with a caressing hand and touches my cheek, showing a gentle smile from which I can only see pity. - You, my dear, possess what we call a flat. Your breath took the form of a very thin layer that can¡¯t hold itself for long, falling flat into the cup¡¯s bottom before vanishing. People born to a flat have very limited capabilities, they won¡¯t go far regardless of the path they choose to follow. - You phrase it like an undeniable proof, but I¡¯m not convinced. The guardian mentioned once that some rules don¡¯t regard outsiders like me. What makes you expect this one to apply? - There¡¯s only so much variation your world can bring to ours. There are exceptions for every rule, but thus far there has been none regarding the voice. Hmm, we better move further down, there are some people you would like to avoid. - Are there assassins afterus? - I wish, she laughs jokingly. There are people like me who give outsiders a chance, but there are also others who would rather not run the risk. Rest assured, so long as you are with me, no one will do you any harm, I promise you. You know what to do, right? We¡¯ve done it before, haha. She curls her lips, placing a finger between then, and whispers into my ear a drowsy wave. It doesn¡¯t feel so bad, I suppose¡­ - Shhhhhh, close your eyes¡­ *** As I woke up, the only thing I saw was the fire pit burning intensely in front of me. Nearing the edges is Storyteller and two others, which I recall could be the ones present that night. The guy to her right seems calm and wears plugs in his ears, must be the one who hates noise. Sleeping a little bit far from there is the other, he has no redeeming features that I can tell, just plain. - The girl woke, he said, suddenly getting up and lively. What now? - As promised, we will answer whatever questions she might have, to our best efforts. - Haah, that¡¯s so bothersome, I¡¯ll be out for a while, called the other, and suddenly it was only me and Storyteller yet again, as the two went to do their own things.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. - Who are you people, and what do you want with me? - You see, near the First Gate I made my home, mapping these caves and pining down stories on the walls, stories that otherwise would be forgotten. Those are the link to your world and mine, but I¡¯ve been doing it for so long that I¡¯ve lost track of the origin. It¡¯s yet another unfortunate event. However, I can tell you a story about what¡¯s been happening. For this, just close your eyes. The drops of water fall down like ink deep inside me, and with my eyes closed I see an entirely different place, should I call it, more resembling a child¡¯s drawings. They move as if alive, and though rain is the only thing whispering my ears, I understand it all. The story is called ¡°The gates are open¡± ¡°Walking by the premises of the barrier of two worlds, there was a man sowing his fields. Curious about that, one of the guardians approached him and asked ¡®what is it you sow in this barren field?¡¯ The man simply stood up and looked at the guardian, ¡®seeds that will make this field not barren¡¯ he said. ¡®What will you do when the soil is fertile?¡¯ the man¡¯s response was: ¡®me? I won¡¯t do anything. Others, however, will come to plant their own seeds.¡¯ After a brief moment of silence, he continued. ¡®Those who can¡¯t plant won¡¯t come, but some of them shouldn¡¯t come anyway¡­¡¯¡± Right before disappearing into a pool of black ink, another story took place in the theater. This one should be a follow up, called ¡°The first outsider¡±. ¡°Crossing the barrier was a youth with curly hair and a radiant look on his eyes. His voice, however, had neither color nor shape, but it was warm and beaming. His name? It was revealed to be Bringer of the Light, and he sought for knowledge of our world and wisdom among the guardians. Everyone loved him, for he was unique and spirited, except for the one who beckoned him with the name, for he knew the boy was fated to bring change. It was latter known that his heart was evil and filled with hatred, he was the cruelest being to ever enter the realm. Many of us, blinded by his radiance, followed the trays of his darkness ¨C to never return¡±. Another pool of black ink, diluting into a drop of tea streaming from a jar. I can now open my eyes. - Want some? - I will go with it, I say just noticing my own thirstiness. - As you can see, people like you aren¡¯t always welcome. That¡¯s why I said it¡¯s rather good that you have a flat, it will be easier to lower their guards and make them accept you. - And why should I seek acceptance? - Oh, but you should. We don¡¯t bring in outsiders unless they manifest their powers, putting us at risk of being found. If you don¡¯t follow our rules in the other world, you will be hunted down. If you choose to live here, instead, the only barrier you will have to surpass is the distrust of my people towards newcomers, but it is otherwise simpler. It was the choice of those two, and now they¡¯re living with me. - I guess I never had much of a choice, nothing changes up to this point. Do you know anything about my death, my life before all this, and about Aspersius? - We know very little about your life till now. Aspersius is a plant that only grows in our world, but the existence of outsiders with the ability makes it so they can see Aspersius where it shouldn¡¯t exist, extract it and use it for their own purposes. Its effect is that it disturbs space-time and brings you back to a point in the past, however it also changes past courses considerably. It doesn¡¯t affect our reality, back then it was used to prolong one¡¯s life span. - I see¡­ So that¡¯s what happened. But why have I come back with the flask? - Hm, she makes a puzzled look, I don¡¯t know why. However, there¡¯s one thing I didn¡¯t tell you. Aspersius is extinct in our lands and it now only appears for outsiders. Much like the plant itself, the ones who used it have already disappeared and the knowledge has been lost, it is possible the current Aspersius is much different than the one we know of. - One more thing¡­ Ever since I¡¯ve turned back in time, I¡¯ve been feeling strange¡­ Fear, despair, anxiety, maybe even excitement¡­ Shame. Does it have to do with the plant? - There is the possibility, but I don¡¯t see why is this a bad thing. Many outsiders relate such experiences, so it is okay. Right, she probably doesn¡¯t know I¡¯m an assassin. It must be very easy to get in and out of a place, so they have no knowledge it was an institution for this kind of training. After talking some more, it was settled that they would teach me to use the voice and in return I would agree to be tested by the authorities later on. However, I really doubt the order will let this pass. The flask is still with them, this matter is not over yet, and I¡¯d rather deal with it myself than wait for them to come. Bloodstained resolution - There are a variety of ways to awaken the power resting inside us, though we are not sure of the process itself. For us, it is as natural as breathing. As for outsiders, things are reduced to trial and error. Not all shall be revealed, and there¡¯s no guarantee it will ever be. It is the nature of the world ¨C what makes it bearable instead of boring are precisely the pieces missing. - What are the methods? - I said I would teach you¡­ I¡¯m rephrasing it. I¡¯ll lead you into awakening, but in the end it¡¯s up to you to discover your powers¡­ First of all, which tone is your voice? The guardian must have told you. Tone¡­ For it to be pitch black, it can¡¯t be a good thing, although having a brightly shining one, like the first, could be worse. Regardless, they will be able to observe it eventually if I am to use this power. It would be different if they had deep knowledge of the process, in which case I could make use of it to avoid progression during my stay, then learn it another time. It is a situation I can¡¯t lie. However, I can still bend it a little. - He said it is dark. What does it mean? - For us, the tone of our voice means how many are the doors leading to a meaningful future. The darker the tone, fewer the doors, the brighter the tone, more paths to take. For outsiders, the tone means everything¡­ Storyteller stopped talking, her face suffocating on what I can describe as an eerie feeling creeping through her skin. It is not disgust, nor awareness, it is an anxious fear: something I don¡¯t recognize when it surfaces inside me, for I just recently remembered it, but that I can clearly discern from another¡¯s expression, regardless of its features. This fear, in particular, is one shared by all of humanity. Fear for the unknown, the knife hidden in the darkness that only exists as a possibility, pointing towards the heart of the feeble and rogue on the mind of the strong. Accounting for her own silence, she proceeds. - It means everything for you¡­ Instead of opening the doors, it selectively picks a door and leads you to your destiny, almost as if¡­ Set in stone. Like I said, the voice can¡¯t change, and that only adds to the fact outsiders can¡¯t change, they can¡¯t deviate from their path, even if they wish for it. They don¡¯t choose, they are¡­ Chosen. - In that case, does light and darkness mean nothing for me? - It certainly means something, she speaks now composed, and the thirst for knowledge makes for most of the reason outsiders aren¡¯t openly antagonized. Before they can judge, they want to know, they have it as a need. I watch silently as contradiction piles on her chest. It is not that outsiders bend the rules, nor that we create our own rules¡­ I would rather say we simply operate under a different set of them. Such a simple answer¡­ Although she reached this point, she refuses to accept it. The true terror of not knowing manifests itself. My existence is a huge threat, but the puzzle doesn¡¯t look complete. There is context, but it is lacking. I could always be wrong, however ¨C I was before, why wouldn¡¯t I again? - Then, what shall be the starting point?Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. - Most of you can awaken through contact with your inner self. That is, your personality, your emotions, feelings. This method I can safely erase. It may be true that the me before meeting with the order and my current self are fundamentally different and that the real me, instead of dead, is struggling to get out ¨C but it is an invalid point. I am very introspective and know myself all too well; every single day of my life is filled by an endless stream of thoughts. Even with the sudden burst of fear and anxiety, those feelings are rapidly numbing. But just coming in contact with your inner self doesn¡¯t seem to be the answer. I would guess that awakening comes from a strong burst of emotion, a sense of realization, enlightenment¡­ - That method won¡¯t work for me, what are the other options? - Another broader option is through fighting. - What kind of fighting? - Fighting as in general physical strain. People who awaken this way take much longer to mature their powers and will be constantly at risk of losing their lives. If my previous hypothesis is correct, that should be a high level of adrenaline. No, it would be too easy to do so; all I would need is an injection. Strangely, she said physical strain and not physical activity, and from what I know there are a number of warriors and assassins with the ability to give themselves away at battle, like possessed by something, not burdened by their thoughts and either blind from rage or completely shut down of reality. I sincerely don¡¯t know if I can achieve such a state. - That seems possible, but are there other ways? - There are many strange ways¡­ A rough estimative would be that 70% awaken through the first method, 25% through the second method, and the last 5% awaken under unknown circumstances. I¡¯ve only ever met one outsider with this pattern. While saying that, Storyteller calls on the person with ear plugs. His eyelids, upon closer look, hold stitches so tiny that can¡¯t be noticed from a distance. - What? He asks indifferently. - He goes for Oliver, and is part of the latter group. He can only manifest his abilities with his ears covered and eyelids lowered. Also strange is that the only words coming from his mouth are whispers, almost no one is able to hear him speak our way. The young man steps in and, mildly annoyed, speaks on a crooked smile. - I hate the noise you produce and loathe the colors of every single word muttered. But it is better than turning back¡­ - Are there any more cases you know of? I asked hoping for more clues. - There is the case of a girl called Mabel who chose to return, she was able to speak only through a feathered mask. Again, for reasons unknown¡­ From the information I¡¯ve received, I can reorganize the awakening types in those three:
  1. Synchrony: the awakening is triggered by the feeling of accomplishment that comes from rediscovering oneself.
  2. Disruption: the awakening is triggered by utter disconnection from reality or embodiment of carnal desires, both stemming from battle.
  3. Catalyst: awakening is only possible if a set of conditions is met.
- I will start with the second method, then. How will I achieve it? - A tiny one like you¡­ It will take a very long time¡­ On the verge of protesting, I ponder on his words. I¡¯ve completely forgot that right now my body is that of an eleven years old, and though I certainly have strength and agility in me, it shouldn¡¯t be sufficient. In fact, I¡¯ve never been on my prime condition. So that I can attain disruption, I should throw myself at daily training before engaging a battle with my life on the line. Even then, there¡¯s no guarantee I¡¯ll awake¡­ But, no matter how I think of it, I can¡¯t envision success on this tactic, and the answer comes right away. There is not enough danger. In order to reach this state, I need an unimaginable amount of thrill, a level of adrenaline linked to a situation that will further drive me into either an empty, hollow space, or into the pinnacle of madness. Will I be able to go on with a plan thathas not a speck of reason? I think maybe, and yet again I find myself wrong¡­ My feelings aren¡¯t rapidly numbing, they are certainly there. However, I am neither suppressing nor bolstering them. They simply appear out of nowhere, without previous notice. And this feeling I¡¯m getting now¡­ It is much stimulating. It is pleasurable, funny should I call? It has a mix of fear and excitement¡­ Doesn¡¯t matter, it feels good and I want to keep it that way. The plan that I have in mind, it will bring out the maximum amount of drive in the shortest amount of time, that I¡¯m certain of. The results are binary: either succeed and live, or fail and die. I will destroy the order from inside out.