[Skell]
Sheer white exploded into my vision.
For a moment, I wondered if I died. The enchantment was apparently a fresh invention, and the power to hurl a body through walls and ceilings… well, I could imagine the potential horror stories.
The concern lasted a half second. By the next half my eyes met the familiar ceiling I'd stared up at all of last night. I didn't stop to count my blessings.
I'm back… and-
My head jerked to each side of the bed I sank into. In my left hand laid the one thing I could rely on: my staff. And on the right shined the épée that Penelle… left behind.
I shot out of bed like I was yanked by strings. Around the dorm room were about ten other applicants, laying in beds or standing around - their battles stamped on their faces. Some were uninjured. Some were cut and bruised. Some I looked away from before their state could be engraved into my memory. I was all the better for it; my attention would be wasted on anything besides my next step.
"Sir! Please return to your bed!" insisted a spindly man in a long white coat. Glasses nearly slid off his nose at the speed that he rushed over. "You may need to be tended to!"
Right. The healers Valérie talked about.
There were near as many as the applicants. They brought with them tables covered in herbs, scalpels, soap, gauze - basically everything they'd need to save the potentially near-death patients that materialized under their noses. Not that they could do anything for a man who crossed that line a long time ago.
I moved to collect the weapons. "I'm fine."
His hand blocked mine. "We don't know that - you could mayhaps be numb from the rush of danger!" His other hand pressed lightly onto my shoulder to guide me back to bed.
And my hand thrust sharply into his chest. "Back off!" I watched the man stagger into a table prepared behind him. Various items were knocked to the floor as the stares of applicants and other healers snapped to me, Yamui's included.
I ignored them. With the weapons in tow, I barged past beds and bodies to stand before the dorm door.
"Wh-where are you going?" asked another healer, a woman I didn't turn to look at.
My fingers twisted around the door handle. I let the echo of the ensuing slam act as my answer.
—————————————————————————————————
Magical lights blurred by as I rushed down the corridor.
Muffled, pained groans and sobs drifted from the other dorm rooms. I disregarded them. What wasn't so easy to gloss over, however, was the distinct sense of vertigo.
Gloom and darkness and murk filled the cavernous corners of The Dross. But that was in the past. Here, the shining prisms that lit the hall from inside their glass cages were blinding, like miniature suns left hanging from the ceiling. My eyes took their sweet time to adjust. And by the time they did, I found them feeling even sorer.
Because between the golden beams stood a towering figure in front of the commons' door, as immovable as a mountain.
Valérie.
I stuffed a clenched fist into my pocket. Should've known somebody would've been tasked with blocking the failed applicants from sneaking into the "winner's area". Or in my case, the reverse.
Merriline was stationed in the women's section of the facility, probably. I would've been happier to see her.
"Applicant, is there a reason you have left your dorm room?" Valérie's steely jaw barely shifted with each word. "You most certainly know where the lavatory is, yet you passed it by."
"I don't need it. I need to go to the commons."
"Then you mean to forfeit?"
"Abyss no. I'm not giving up, not after everything that went down. I just need to go through."
Her face made a subtle shift toward the negative.
I made for the door behind her. A massive gauntlet rose between it and I.
"To what end?" she questioned.
A grimace almost found it's way to my teeth. I restrained it, though part of me still wanted to barge past her. Not that trying would get me anywhere. I only then started to feel the barest traces of mana return to me, and even with it all, I was no match for a Templar Warden. I wasn't afraid; not then, not even of someone as imposing as her. But self-preservation was a little harder to shake.
An illusory sigh slipped from my lips. I pulled Penelle's weapon out from behind my back. "This… this épée, it's not mine. It's my partners'. She's back there with the others who didn't make it, right? I gotta give it back."
Gray eyes studied me. "Unfortunately, I cannot allow that. There is to be no crossing over until the wounded have been stabilized and removed from the commons."
Chills tightened around my bones.
But she upturned her extended gauntlet. "Be that as it may, I could return her property myself. But that is not all you want, is it?"
Shade, I'm letting her read me like a storybook. Giving Penelle her weapon back is better than nothing, but…
"…No," I admitted, exhaustion tearing down the walls around my missing heart. "I want - need - to see her. I could've stopped her from walking into that fight. She's the one person who started to see me as something more than a dark mage and I let her…" I shook my head. "I have to see Penelle. I have to know if she's still alive. Even if she hates me now more than she ever did…"
The Warden wasn't quick to reply. For a moment, I could've sworn I saw a touch of surprise crease her features. "I see. If these feelings of yours are so resolute, then I shall pose a question. If your answer is not to my liking, I will return her property myself."
Her need for a question confused me, but I wouldn't back down. "Fine. Shoot."
Valérie leaned closer, unblinking gaze diving into mine. "Who do you do this for? Is this meeting to unravel the tangled guilt inside you? Or is it for the sake of whom you hurt?"
I never came to a conclusion faster.
"It's for me. If I can apologize, show her I didn't mean for this happen, make it clear I hoped we could've been more than just teammates… the weight on my shoulders won't disappear. But it'd be an Abyss more bearable."
My hand wrapped around the épée. "That said, it's just as much for Penelle. Even if I wasn't guilty, I'd still stand here in front of you. Because there's something I gotta set right. And if she listens, if she can listen, then maybe I can help her."
Nothing came from the Warden's features or mouth. Silence suffocated the conversation. Then she turned away, opened the door, and closed it behind her.
That… that must not have been good enough? My cynical side questioned. For a time, the only answers were the instructions of hard-pressed healers and the wails and cries of wounded applicants from the other side of the door. This time, they weren't so easy to ignore.
A half-minute came and went. By the time I calmed enough to realize she hadn't taken the épée, the door yawned open. Valérie barely fit inside its dimensions.
"Are you letting me in?" the words spilled from my mouth.
"No."
I had to stop my already-moving foot from taking another step. "What?"
"I made clear the fact that none are to cross this threshold," she spoke matter-of-factly. "My orders are absolute, whether or not Commandant Karthwyn is present."
Huh? Is he not in the facility?
She went on. "Nevertheless, the answer you gave - it was as truthful as I required. Thus I believe there is a way to aid you without placing our rules in jeopardy. As long as you remain where you stand."
A seed of hope budded inside my chest. "S-sure, I can stay put. But what do you have in mind?"
Another instance of silence. Actions were definitely the woman's primary language. Especially when the action was as loud as reaching just beyond the edge of the door to pull a wheeled cot into view.
Laying under its snow-white sheets, propped up against a thin pillow, sat the fencer. She wasn't how I remembered her.
White bandages were the first thing my eyes locked onto, wrapped tight around her forehead, slipped under her pink hair. Splints covered both shoulders, where arms had almost been torn off, and she'd been changed out of her torn and bloodied doublet and into a clean light-blue gown. I almost smiled when I saw that her lacerations and bruises had been tended to with magic.
That smile was never meant to be.
My gaze settled on her slack face. I remembered it always being pinched, burdened by stress or pain or probably - now that I knew what brought her into the Ordeals - her Father.
But then? Nothing was at work under her skin. Not even an expression of shock, or pain. Her eyes just hung shut; not even a hint of recognition under them at our voices.
"Penelle…?" my world started to shrink. "Is she…?
"Unresponsive, the healers say," Valérie stood behind the cot, her face a sliver more grim than usual. "There has not been enough time and study to tell how long it shall be until she wakes. If she wakes."
"Then… she might never come back?"
The Warden didn't respond. Somewhere behind her implacable look, she must've been puzzled at how we went from bickering that morning, to tears welling in my eyes. It would've been a long story. One she was kind enough not to pry into.
"Her condition is stable," said the Warden, "but it is imperative that a close eye is kept regardless. I shall return in a spell to collect her."
I barely heard the woman. I think I nodded; I don't know. Her figure left the edges of my vision all the same.
All that remained was Penelle's vacant body.
—————————————————————————————————
An eternity came and went before I was ready to do something.
"Hey, Penelle," I said, feeling an instant wave of stupidity.
You think she can hear you? She's deep inside her mind, locked away. You might as well talk to a strongbox.
That's what I told myself. And yet, words continued to come.
"You… you don't look too bad, you know? If it weren't for your eyes, I wouldn't even know you were asleep in there. That gown, it matches your hair pretty well, too." I sighed, and put a palm to my forehead. "…If you can hear me, even a little, do something. A twitch of the finger. That's all I'm asking."
Nails crossed over her lap. My eyes wouldn't even trick me into believing they moved.
"Right," my laugh rang bitter. "I'm expecting too much, aren't I?"
I moved to slant against my side of the wall, letting my voice hang in the air. "Guess it'd be wrong to put every bit of the blame on myself. I'm not your keeper. At least, that's what I figure you'd say if you were listening. But I can't forget what you told me. About your Father forcing you into the Ordeals, risking your life - all so he can steal the prestige he never had."
"Scum." I ground my foot into the floor. "Expecting you to make this sacrifice. Hiding behind this 'family first' talk. Still, you hesitated. Almost hit your button and saved yourself. I… can't help but wonder: if I spoke up, would you be calling me a fool right now? A blockhead, or a halfwit, maybe? Or would we even be having this conversation?"
I shook my head. "I'm sorry. If I could go back in time, I would. I don't know if you'll ever wake up. But if deep inside, you can hear me, there's something you need to know."
Pushing off the wall, I stood over the cot, close as I could without trampling over Valérie's lenience, and laid my hand on hers.
"You weren't born to live shackled to someone else's wishes. Not your parents, friends, no one. Let them feel how they like. Your life belongs to you. I don't know what your heart yearns for, but I know it's not this. So get better, find what it is you want, and fight for it. And don't let anyone stop you."
I closed my eyes. "But then, the person telling you this is a hypocrite, isn't he?"
"After you left, I ran into Ra'Kol and Niles - not that you ever met that second prick. They treated me like you'd expect. A monster. Ra'Kol even thought I'd murdered you and stolen your épée. Stupid, right? But it made me so angry. Time and again I'm seen as filth. And each time it feels a little easier to accept. I started to act like 'the dark mage' again. Except… it's no act."
My mind wandered to Selem's sewers, where I beat that thief bloody without shame and cornered him like it was just… work. Hand of Decay didn't bother me like it used to. I could even kill my own kin with barely a wince, now.
It'd been a short couple months, in that way.
"Deep inside, there's a selfish part of me. Violent. Pitiless. I told those two I wanted to watch them suffer. Die like dogs. Sure, that was a lie. But I could see a version of me, not so far away, that wouldn't flinch at the scene either. I've fought for people before and I'd do it again, I know it. My conscience is loud. Doesn't know when to shut up, even. But if I tried, really tried, I could plug my ears. That's where I am now. Being shunned, despised, thought of as wicked, I feel it pushing me closer to that man. And the scariest part is, every step I take toward him, the less I care about leaving behind what's good about me."
Hyland showed that as long as you're smart about it, you can be vile and still be a Templar. I can still chase my goal and let everything else rot. It'd be so much easier. So much simpler.
"…Tell me to be better," I urged. "Tell me to care. Tell me not to let everyone drag me down into my worst self."
She spoke in motionless silence.
"Please. Something."
I waited. For nothing.
My eyes dropped. "Why do I keep trying…?"
Down at my waist, the épée hung loosely in my grip. "Sorry. I'm running at the mouth so much, I almost forgot why I'm here."
Laid beside Penelle was the cover of her weapon. I brought both together, then lifted her silent hand. Under her fingers, I slid the sheathed épée.
Then I froze.
Call it a muscle spasm. Or maybe her palm just happened to slide down the weapon's surface. I could invent any number of justifications. But what I saw was no illusion. Penelle's fingers clenched ever so slightly around the weapon's handle.
There was no other reaction; not a tensing of the face or a change in her breathing. But it made me think.
"Yeah… yeah, of course," I nodded. "Can't get too bogged down. You're fighting - even now - to wake up again. And that's just the start. Same with me. There's still two more Ordeals coming my way. Challenges I can't even imagine that stand between me and my goal. I'll figure things out on that path. I just have to keep enduring."
I felt a few pounds of crushing weight lift off my shoulders. "I should get going. Feels like a whole day came and went down there, but I figure it was only a few hours. Still plenty of time before tomorrow. Maybe I can squeeze in some last-minute Shroud practice."
Or take Soleil up on her offer. If I feel in the mood to make terrible choices.
"…Goodbye, Penelle. And thanks. For being different."
—————————————————————————————————
When it was announced we could leave the dorm rooms, Merriline and Valérie - and just those two - didn't cut things off there. All of us that remained, injured or not, were told to gather in the six-sided commons.
I immediately thought we'd walk into a bloody nightmare. Other concerns kept my eyes off the room proper, but the urgency and pain was crystal clear in the voices beyond Penelle's cot. Without a doubt, matters got messy.
So it was a surprise to discover the room as pristine as our first visit. Not a single drop of blood stained the white flooring, and every doctor and failed applicant had already walked or been wheeled out of the facility. Round tables - once pushed aside to make way for the teleporting patients - were back in their original placements. Even the one Hyland broke was back in perfect condition. Yet… something felt forever changed.
Our entire number plopped onto the many clusters of seats. We didn't even fill a third of them. Multiple tables where - just yesterday, groups got to know each other under stories of hometowns and tales of their travels - were empty, save for full cups and untouched plates. The reason was no secret. Valérie, joined by Merriline at the end of the commons, put it into words anyway.
"Fourteen applicants," said the joyless Warden, "have either fallen in battle, or succumbed on the cot."
Reactions weren't as dramatic as you might expect. I couldn't have been the only one to come across the bodies of those I saw just this morning. Some must've been even closer than I was. Fought alongside them. Heard their screams. Witnessed their last wisps of breath.
Memories of Ramon - the man torn apart outside that cave - pulled at my attention. I found his partner, Ormine, alone at a table. The same woman who boasted about her strength and challenged everyone to arm-wrestling matches to sate her fiery blood… just stared into her cold glass, the waters inside as still as her eyes.
"Forty-three applicants pressed their buttons too soon," Valérie noted next.
Fear probably pulled a lot out early. I sat alone at my own table. Could've felt overwhelmed or disadvantaged and hightailed it before things got too hairy. Or… maybe they were like Penelle. Had their button pressed by someone else to save them.
"Sixteen applicants," Merriline spoke up, her cheery face replaced by a seriousness that didn't suit her one bit, "actually gained all ten points. And came back alive. But… their injuries were too bad. We couldn't let them go on with the Sacred Ordeals."
Right. A couple of the guys in the dorms they wheeled out on cots, I don't even know if healing magic can fix them. Not back to the way they were…
"There remains one last category," Valérie offered. "Forfeiture."
"Yeah," agreed Merriline. "What happened down there, that's our life. It doesn't have to be yours. If you got this far then you're tough. But there's all kinds of places in Lumerit that welcome tough people."
The Warden nodded. "Indeed. You will bear no less honor for leaving through the exit door. We implore you to consider it."
Eyes drifted around the room, gauging the willingness of those around them.
Unlike last time, there were takers.
A young man rose quickly, a bag of ice pressed over his cheek by a hand that missed a finger. Another man got up. Two women. Then more. A few weren't even injured. But they'd been scarred in other ways. It wasn't long until seven applicants stood around the wide exit doors.
"Is that everyone?" asked the Paladin.
Nobody else rose. Even if a few seemed to mull it over.
"Very well," she and Merriline made to join them. "Then the current number of applicants falls to fifty-six."
That few already? We were just at one hundred and thirty-six, and before that, four hundred and twenty-eight. So many, gone in just two days. But as long as I'm still in the running…
The two Templars pressed on the wide exit doors until they spread to reveal the escalift. Melancholy and relief were stitched to the applicant's faces in a intricate patchwork. It must've been different to deny your dreams by choice. But they made their decision: life over glory.
I agreed.
Doors closed and complex enchantments whirred from behind them. They were gone. Free, in a way.
Hyland kicked his boots onto an empty chair, one of the few who didn't wear a frown. "Cowards," he muttered just loud enough for everyone to hear. "Who would willingly spit in the face of an opportunity like this?"
"They're not cowards!" Niles argued from a nearby table, clearly simmering in a rotten mood. "People died down there! And that horde of monsters - some people can't look that in the face and keep going."
"Precisely," Hyland took a swig from his glass, dropping it with an emphasizing thud. "Cowards."
The ex-Knight's table only had a few sycophants left, who shot Niles dirty looks for talking back to Hyland.
Niles' table would've been vacant, if not for Cirian who dabbed his mouth with a napkin as white as his hair, and the girl with the journal, who seemed to overcome her nervousness enough to join them, but not to stay calm as voices were raised.
"Think you're so tough, mate?" Niles rose and flicked his sleeve, making room for Ivy Cling.
"I do," Hyland kept seated. "A great deal more than you."
"Ah, Niles?" Cirian warned with a wave of his baton, "might I remind you of the rules that prevent conflict-"
"Karthwyn ain't here!" Ra'Kol hunched over his table with cheeks half-full. "And the women Templars are busy! Long as we don't break anything," his eyes snapped to the commons corner, fixing onto mine, "we can pick fights with whoever we want!"
…Great. Hoped they would've went at each other's throats and left me out of it. Yamui rose in the corner of my eye, muttering to himself as he passed through the dorms door. And of course, he won't stick around to scare off the others again. Not when he can just ignore it. Maybe I could follow him…
But I'm tired of running.
I didn't feel in the mood to speak. I just leaned over the table, shot him a middle finger, and ignited my Shroud. My mana replenished over the last few hours. Not enough to rot a rat, but all I needed was a sliver to shed my weakened state.
Other eyes darted to mine. The hate for dark mages was alive and well, if not strengthened after all the undead fresh in our minds. And who knew what sort of stories Ra'Kol spread to some of the others.
Applicants rose from their seats while others backed away from the impending action. Weapons were drawn. But everything was all right.
Because I had a plan in min-
A wave of smoke devoured me. And the rest of the commons. The white sheets were impenetrable - no shapes could be seen through or behind it. All there was were voices, confused and angry and hacking and coughing.
Though to be comprehensive, there was one shape that pierced through the veil: a hand of orange-painted nails, outstretched as if expecting to be filled. I didn't even need a moment to know who it belonged to. The hand…
Or the smoke.
"Hey," hummed a mellow voice, "ready to chat?"