HELLO!
BEFORE WE BEGIN
I MUST WARN YOU
THAT THE START OF THIS CHAPTER IS A SPOILER FROM VOLUME 11 IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THAT FAR YET!
THANK YOU!
PLEASE ENJOY :)
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The Beast of Twilight let out a joyless laugh, his face splitting into a wide, manic grin that seemed to mirror the abyss itself.
"Instead," he whispered, his voice a rasping melody of madness, "I wanted to ask you to free Hope."
The Beast stared at the Daemon of Fate, his grin widening like a chasm of unadulterated anguish and flickering desire.
"I wanted to ask for your help with killing all the Chain Lords, breaking the binds that the Sun God bestowed upon us, and unleashing Hope upon the world. I wanted to ask you to help me break the will of the gods… but I had to be satisfied with only this little, since the gods themselves cannot truly be broken."
The Beast of Twilight — the one they called Noctis — laughed again, a sound that lacked any warmth.
"In short, I wanted to ask you to help me die."
He looked down at the sickle that lay on the cold stone before him, its edge smeared with dark, drying blood. Slowly, the manic grin dimmed, replaced by a profound, soul-deep exhaustion.
"Well, something like that, anyway. Ah… I am tired, Weaver. I am tired of guarding Hope, from being driven mad by Hope, and from not knowing where my duty truly lies. It was all so clear all those years ago, when the Lord of Light entrusted us with this task. But I've been having doubts, you see."
Noctis sighed, offering a pale, fleeting smile that didn't reach his humorous eyes.
"If he truly wanted us to keep Hope shackled… why did he give us the keys to open her chains?"
His head dropped, and a whisper escaped from his twisted, beautiful lips:
"Maybe what he really wanted was for us to release her, all along. What marvellous cruelty that would have been… don't you think, Weaver?"
"I think the Gods are too vast and too great for only one emotion, one desire, or one intent," Weaver replied. The Daemon's voice was like the rustling of silk over bone.
Weaver smiled grimly beneath their lacquered mask before turning their gaze into the distance, staring at something — or someone — only they could perceive.
Suddenly, a thousand discordant whispers pierced the observer's mind. Asteria felt herself plummeting, no longer a floating ghost but as her own physical vessel, stumbling onto solid ground just steps away from the harrowing Daemon and the blooded, heartless beast.
"What did I tell you, my blessed?" The voice began, familiar yet utterly alien, resonating from the very fabric of the dream. "Go back."
***
"Huff... huff..."
Asteria shot upright in her bed, her silk sheets tangled around her limbs like a snare. She was breathing heavily, her chest heaving as she tried to reconcile the opulent safety of her room in Ravenheart with the ancient, suffocating atmosphere of the encounter.
'What in the name of the Spell was that? What am I now, a seer?'
Her mind raced, frantically sifting through the imagery — the ivory city, the temples, the beautiful, shackled deity. The familiarity of it all felt like a bruise on her subconscious.
Suddenly, the cold, familiar chime of the Nightmare Spell rang out in her mind, sounding more like a triumphant choir than a simple notification.
[Your Aspect Legacy: "Seeker of Truths" has had a truth revealed.]
Asteria froze, staring at the shimmering runes that began to manifest in the darkness of her chamber.
[Aspect Legacy: [Seeker of Truths].]
[Seeker of Truths Mastery Level: 0/0]
First Truth: Weaver, Daemon of Fate.
'Well, isn't this just grand,' she lampooned, her eyes narrowing as she read the description.
[Weaver, Daemon of Fate's Truth: "Your benefactor, the one who blessed you and your creator, was Weaver, the Daemon of Fate.
A being who resided above lies and deceit, as well as the one thing all beings feared despite it having no power: Fate.
Queen of Nightmare, you have learned that Weaver's schemes have been set for thousands of years, and yet you are but a small pawn. Drive this arrogance, your inflated self-worth, into the ground; and learn what your benefactor did."]
Asteria gritted her teeth, a low growl escaping her throat. "That's not helpful at all, is it? Yeah, what did you do, Weaver? Are all the Gods this bloody rude?"
But the Spell wasn't finished. The runes shifted, glowing with a renewed, insistent light.
[Your Aspect Legacy: "Seeker of Truths" has had a truth revealed.]
"Another one?! Spell, one of us is going to die if you keep throwing things at me that I don't understand!"
Second Truth: Hope, Daemon of Desire.
[Hope, Daemon of Desire's Truth: "Hope was freed by her own jailers, supported by her sibling. Not enough is known about this Daemon to receive her legacy. Uncover the Daemon of Desire's secrets to receive your boon!"]
"Well, how am I supposed to do that?" Asteria whispered to the empty room. "Isn't she dead? It's not like I can just stroll into the pa..."
Her voice died away as a sudden, dawning realisation struck her with stupidity. Her mind drifted back to her Aspect abilities — the very nature of her existence as the Queen of Nightmare.
"A Nightmare... the past."
She let out a laugh — a boisterous, sharp sound that was entirely unfitting for a Princess of Song in the dead of night. She summoned the description of her third Aspect Ability, her eyes tracing the glowing text.
[Aspect Ability: Unbound by Dream]: "...You are one with the nightmare and have the freedom to come and go from within its trials."
"Of course... a Nightmare," she murmured, her fingers tracing the edge of her blanket.
It sounded like a perfect plan until the cold reality of logic set in. She had no way of finding a Nightmare specific enough to lead her to the Kingdom of Hope or the Daemon of Desire. And even if she did, she was only an Ascended. A Nightmare containing a Divine being like Hope would be a Fifth or Sixth category Seed. A sort of difficulty that would swallow her whole.
'Impossible tasks, always impossible,' she thought, leaning her head back against the headboard. 'The Gods are truly a marvellous cruelty, aren't they, Beast of Twilight?'
Asteria sat in the oppressive silence of her bedchamber, the runes of the Spell fading from her vision but burned into her unfortunate mind.
The air within the Jade Palace — Ravenheart — was stagnant... an equally unfortunate contrast to the almost realistic salty wind and the ethereal grandeur of the Kingdom of Hope.
Swinging her legs over the side of her bed, her bare feet meeting the ivory floor, the chill was quite grounding; a subtle reminder that she wasn't a floating ghost in a terrific memory, but an evident pawn whose board spanned across time immemorial.
'Weaver.. Curse you, you stupid God... Wait isn't that blasphemy? Ah, who cares, they're dead anyways. '
The name sat heavily in her mind. Every Awakened knew the Gods were dead — yet little knew of the Daemons, the forgotten divine beings who had close ties to the original deities... but to be told one was your "creator" was another matter entirely. A curse, perhaps? A branding? Even moreso.
"Small pawn," she whispered, trying to mimic the Spell's mocking tone. "Inflated self-worth. Honestly, the Spell truly is cruel."
She stood and paced the room, the liquid of her discarded, gorgeous, gala gown still draped over her chair — still stained with blood, nearly fitting into its kaleidoscope of colour.
Her mind was a whirlwind of whimsical possibilities. To uncover the secrets of Hope, she needed to enter a Nightmare — or find something of note outside of one— she needed to enter the past.
But how? Even with the ability to come and go from the Spell's trials, she was still bound by the simple law of strength. An Ascended — Fallen — like herself couldn't waltz up to a nightnare of that difficulty and survive.
A soft chime at her door broke her reverie.
"Come in," Asteria said, pulling a silk robe over her bare shoulders.
The door slid open to reveal Seishan. The Awakened looked weary, the usual mischievous spark in her eyes dampened by the night's events. She was still wearing her wine-coloured silks, though they were wrinkled now and not pristine — they still shone with elegance.
"Still awake?" Seishan asked, leaning against the doorframe. "Or did you have something on your mind?"
Asteria looked at her sister, truly looked at her for once. Seishan was a "Sister" to her, someone who cared for her despite not sharing blood, someone who survived horrors in the dream realm longer than Asteria had despite being of a lower rank. Yet Seishan still felt like a child compared to the towering, tragic figures of Asteria's dream.
"Just thinking alone, I suppose." Asteria said, her voice unusually small.
Seishan's posture straightened instantly. "What are you thinking about so deeply?"
"What if the Gods weren't the only Divines we knew about?" Asteria replied, moving towards a balcony that overlooked the frozen peaks surrounding the Jade Palace. "What would they do? What would they look like? How much do we really know?"
Seishan walked into the room, her footsteps were silent on the ivory quartz. She stood beside the Queen of Nightmare, staring out at the reflective snow. "We'd never know. Perhaps Mother does, but I daren't ask."
"It's all dead history though, isn't it?" Asteria responded, her eyes flashing with a dim contemplation and determination. "Clans have Divine lineages, and yet what if there is more to it? Who else? What have they truly seen in all the nightmares they've challenged? Dozens of Saints yet they've said nothing about what they learnt. Why?"
Seishan remained silent for a long moment, the only sound was the distant, lonely howl of wind. "Mother said you were different, a while ago now. That you'd ask questions, dig too deep; she called you interesting, more than anything. She's fond of you." Seishan shrugged, a small sign of comfort and a telltale to not worry. "Perhaps you should ask her instead."
"I don't have a choice, do I?" The Queen of Nightmare laughed, a bitter sound. "Knowledge is power, after all. And it's not like the Spell restricts us from finding out more."
Seishan turned to her.
"Then I'm glad you have ambition."
Asteria nodded, but her mind was already drifting back to the horrors she saw. She thought of the Beast of Twilight, clutching his beating heart and praying for death. She thought of the cruelty of being given keys to the cage you swore to guard.
"Shan?"
"Yes?"
"Why would a God give his jailers the keys to a prisoner's chains if he intends to keep the prisoner locked?"
Seishan paused, her hand on the door handle. She looked back at Asteria, her face shadowed by the dim light. "Perhaps because the God knew that, eventually, the jailers would become more miserable than the prisoner. And the God loves nothing more than a well-staged tragedy."
***
While the Sisters of Song spoke in the towers of Ravenheart, a different discovery was happening in the dark.
It was the Chained Isles, in the Sky Below.
A man wrapped in shadow standing amongst seven divine chains and being warned to not go further by a malicious man within reflection.
Hope's Shackles.