Bennan zoned out as they continued talking. He had returned to his wooden chair, and other than the few glances the Saint named Anthony had thrown his way, they hadn't paid him any more attention.
"Now how was it done again?"
He sat and pondered for a moment… "Menu"… "soul screen"… "nightmare window." As he thought these words in his mind, at least one of them had worked. Shimmering golden runes appeared before him in the air. He sat silently, looking at the ancient runes.
⸻
Name: Bennan
True Name: —
Rank: Aspirant
Soul Core: Dormant
Memories: [white morning]
Echoes: —
Attributes: [moon blessed], [haunted]
Aspect: —
⸻
He looked at the runes, confused.
"I already have a memory?"
He had learned a decent amount about the Nightmare Spell in school growing up. His family couldn't afford a private school, but the public sectors had required classes teaching about the spell, as well as basic martial arts. Like many kids, he had even taken the extracurricular classes about the Nightmare Realm, hoping to one day be an exalted adventurer himself. But he hadn't heard of anyone getting a memory at the start of their nightmare before.
Summoning the runes, an image of a small black ball with an indent on the top appeared, with a string of text below it:
[white morning: When Ariel descended beneath the tomb, the world was wreathed in silence. For a blinding instant, the night was burned away — not by flame, but something more final. That brilliance never seen again.]
He didn't like the look of the last line of that description.
"Gods, final? Never seen again? it's not one-time use, is it? It sounds like it's some kind of blinding weapon, but that last line makes me hesitant to try it. Couldn't I have gotten something more useful, like some armor or a cool sword?"
Sighing, he pointed his thoughts toward his attributes. The spell's symbols rearranged themselves, and his mind slowly decoded them.
[moon blessed]
Attribute description: "The moon favors you. In its embrace, you receive its blessing."
[haunted]
Attribute description: "Something anc—"
"Qurem."
Bennan quickly closed the menu and sprang to his feet. The two men were walking out the open door, the woman standing by it expectantly.
"Shit, now what?"
He rushed across the dimly lit room to her side.
They stepped out into the stark glow of the moonlight. As it hit his skin, he felt a strange power enter his body.
It felt invigorating.
He walked with the three Saints past rows of smaller-looking mud huts, none quite as large as the one they'd left. They turned right into a narrow passage between two huts and emerged into a rectangular clearing.
The massive clearing was full of soldiers. Directly in front of them stood a large, mud-colored structure with a completely open front. Inside, a few pots sat over open flames, bubbling, with a savory aroma drifting out.
Outside the building were rows of tables, most of them filled with hungry faces.
To the right was a large open space. A few people could be seen sparring, their powerful sword clashes ringing loudly.
A large tarp covered the entire clearing, and as the four stepped under it, he felt considerably weaker as the moon's blessing left him.
As they approached, every warrior stood and saluted. They all looked dirty and weathered, their gear chaotic and mismatched—aside from the blue shoulder cloaks they all wore.
"At ease!" the scarred Saint shouted, prompting everyone to sit immediately.
Then he walked over to the pots, scooping out a generous amount of soup. As Bennan and the other two Saints followed behind, he caught many of the soldiers casting glances at the female Saint, admiration evident on their faces.
Bennan stepped up to the pots and looked inside. The liquid was brown, with floating chunks of… well, he couldn't really tell. But it smelled good enough.
Scooping some into his bowl, he followed the Saints to a table. As they grew close, one of the warriors quickly wiped his mouth on his sleeve and said—
"Please take our seats!"
The other three soldiers chimed in with agreement, quickly getting up and taking their half-eaten soup with them.
"Ha ha, thanks, brother," chuckled Saint Anthony, he slapped the man on his shoulder before sitting right where he just had been.
Sitting down with the others, Bennan began to eat slowly.
Surprisingly, the soup wasn't bad at all. Just as he thought that, though, the scarred man spat it back into his bowl.
"Blagh, I'm so tired of this garbage cooking. Couldn't we have brought anything better from Telos?"
Looking at the man, he wished he knew his and the woman's name. If he was to blend in, it would be important.
After a moment of thinking, with no ideas of figuring it out without giving his self away, he went back to eating.
His name is Saint Lyil. He's captain of the guard.
A voice rang in his head.
Nearly choking on his soup he looked around, stunned, he met the eyes of the other Saints, all the color draining from his face.
Stop that, idiot. You're drawing attention. the voice chuckled.
You really should finish reading your attributes.