As he stared into the heavenly sea of stars chasing away the shadows, Soren felt the surrounding cold slowly tighten its grip around his heart once more. The radiant yet horrifying figure of the Holy Maiden watched in silence from above, like a deity overlooking the insects She once ruled.
Even though every fiber of his mind was telling him to look away, his body could no longer respond to his thoughts. It was as if he had returned to being a puppet, influenced by the surrounding tides of wind and darkness.
“Isn’t this thrilling?” All of a sudden, a voice bead itself into his mind from all directions. This was the sa voice he had heard earlier.
“Tazzith’s prophecy had been right all along. You’ve finally grasped the salvation He spoke of!~”
His mockery couldn’t be disguised. As the Fairy Blade continued racing upwards, Soren grasped a very terrifying reality: salvation from one danger did not an salvation from all dangers. Escaping from one beast had only delivered him into the maw of sothing far worse…
This… This was why divination should never be fully trusted…
But then he realized sothing even more horrifying. This bastard. How… How did he know about my conversations with Tazzith?... His eyes widened even further.
“The answer to that is pretty simple,” the voice replied succinctly, as if reading his thoughts. “I’ve been with you on your journey this entire ti!”
“What…”
There was a mont of silence before the voice chuckled.
“How could one wake from a dream that still whispers its presence?”
“....” Soren could only remain silent the further he climbed the chasm. And yet the distance between him and the silhouettes seed to not shrink at all—the tunnel had continued to stream further and further upwards, far past any distances he could calculate.
Despite this, his mind was far more preoccupied with the Whispering Dream’s words. Even his futile attempts at escape had ceased. In those agonizing seconds, he scrutinized every fragnt of his mories—no stone was left unturned. He felt akin to a drowning man, pressed under a frozen lake, hoping to grasp an opening.
Whispers… dream… presence… He had to grasp the aning. Quickly. Calculations upon calculations piled across his mind as he raced toward the answer.
And that’s when he realized it.
An experience he had completely forgotten. Or maybe, he had been purposefully steered away from ever attempting to recall it.
No way…
At the ti, Soren believed it an important mont—one where a long and arduous nightmare had been broken by the intrusion of reality.
A nightmare born of an ancient, unending sin. Its horrors threaded together into a single image in his mind: a crimson eye that judged all who dared et its gaze, exposing them to the filth rotting within.
And yet, just as Hurion had warned, his nightmare’s end only begetted another more terrifying reality. What he found in his escape wasn’t comfort. No warmth in the slightest…
Instead, an abomination draped in sanctity welcod his awakening—a saint in na alone, whose presence fed on the dreams of others.
And where else would such a thing feast, if not within the sanctity of his own mind? The one place he never expected to be ‘whisked’ to…
His Three Layers of Self.
“Didn’t I tell you back then?” The abominable voice bead from within, “That I would take you where the hope of escape will never reach?” He could almost feel his lips curling up slightly. “Those words were ant to be taken literally.”
“You…” Soren’s throat was too dry to form the words, “From the mont you entered my Three Layers back then… You… You never left…?”
“Correct.”
The air around him chilled even more. It felt as if he had once again been lowered into a frozen coffin. He wanted to shut down his mind—to escape all of these lingering thoughts. And yet… the logic of it all was staring back at him, like a festering wound that could never be ignored.
Indeed… he should have expected it from the very beginning. A being like the Whispering Dream—soone who could make you forget both truths and lies alike—could never be so easy to grasp. To prevent even the most obvious aspects of reality from being noticed...
What a terrifying affinity...
The very words he uttered to him back then should have spelled it out… And yet, he had been forced to ignore even this simple reality.
“Do you recall when you asked whether or not I visited your Heart’s Shroud? That was never truly a lie—I had no reason to visit it when your True Self had already decided to surrender itself to .
“Although…” He paused for a mont, as if to take pleasure in his own words, “I might not have had a reason to go there to obtain your True Self, but I did still desire to see your emotions and mories. The forr mainly…”
“.....” A tingle of blood dripped from Soren’s nose. The darkness was consuming his mind rapidly, causing even his body to break down.
“It was all so amusing! I was hiding beneath the ocean of your Echo of Mind from the very start—how could I do that if I hadn't already visited your Heart’s Shroud? It should have been obvious from the start!”
“.....” His eyes slowly blurred—engulfed in a new kind of darkness.
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“Perhaps if Tazzith had been present during that scene, His All Seeing eyes would have grasped such obscure hints. But alas…” He heard a soft sigh slither in his mind.
“But even so, obtaining an ever-present contractual ‘Anchor,’ as you like to call them, made things extrely difficult. That is why the hidden spark of my existence had to be concealed with even more effort than I’d usually reserve. Attempting to read your thoughts, emotions, or mories would have likely exposed fairly quickly. And it was limited to only the avatar associated with this world, otherwise, the subspace within the Realm of Realms would have revealed fairly quickly!
“Although, that didn’t an I couldn’t spectate the unfolding journey…” He laughed slowly, layering venom with every passing word. “To witness the story of a fairy who witnesses the stories of others. How ironic indeed…”
“.....” A profound heaviness filled Soren’s chest. The surrounding void had beco even more suffocating. Even his connection to his Soul Weapon seed to be faltering.
“I said it before, and I’ll say it again. The goal you desired to reach—everything you achieved in the process—was worth it. It might be strange coming from rather than Myrin, but… the Fellowship of the Runes… It wasn’t just the two of you—I was a part of it too!~
“How unfortunate indeed… I would have loved to participate more actively, if not for my limiting circumstances. As the third mber of the Fellowship, I apologize for my lack of contributions.”
“.....” What… is this bastard even saying… Soren could no longer comprehend anything. His mind felt akin to a tumbling rock, slowly eroding away from the wind.
The enigmatic saint continued, “The Dungeon Break, the heist in the Safe Zone, the Mirror Ga… Truly, I was too lacking as a fellow companion. How utterly selfish of . But at the very least, I had the privilege of witnessing such a legend unfold before my very eyes!
“And in the end, I did still attempt to help you, did I not? That Asterix you discovered—I made sure it kept its pace slow enough for you to follow it! It even guided you directly to .
“Rejoice! Now that we are fully reunited, I will be able to make up for my past failings….”
The Whispering Dream chuckled to himself for a few monts. “Ah, what am I even saying… I wonder if you even believe in my sincerity.
“Why not just tell ? Am I a liar, or a truthsayer?
“Which is it, Mr. Traveler?”
“.....”
The space around him felt as if it had collapsed. He could no longer even hear the worldsong playing its usual tone. Soren wondered whether Fignt was continuing to control the flying swords…
But even as the last fragnts of his consciousness began to crumble, a single thought lingered in his mind:
Liar…
“Oho?”
Truthsayer…
Why does it even matter? Ignoring you is better than knowing at all…
A soft chuckle followed by incomprehensible laughter filled his skull.
“Such a simple yet logical answer!... Discerning my actions and words is indeed impossible. Why bother at all?
“Too many in the past have failed to grasp such a principle… After all, what would we be without our ability to think and conceive? Perhaps only a Foolish One would ever dare to give up such notions of self…”
As the world spiraled around him, he heard Silmar speak again, “Though, that isn’t entirely to your benefit. Not yet, at least. Don’t you want to know of my plans? What I intend to do with Cassia? With this world?
“What about the very aning of your fate leading you back to … So many questions, so little answers! How could a scribe ever ignore such things?”
Soren didn’t respond, prompting Silmar to click his tongue. “Apologies, I completely forgot how difficult it was to control Her.”
The mont these words were uttered, he felt his mind clear completely. The darkness around them vanished from sight, as if it had never been there at all.
What…
Soren glanced up at the star-filled ocean where the silhouette of an imposing woman stood, clouded in shadows. The receding darkness all seed to scurry toward Her illusive figure, like children rushing for their parent’s protection.
Although the symptoms he was feeling earlier had cleared, the pain continued to linger. What’s more, he realized that Fignt had indeed ceased his influence—they were climbing up the ‘chasm’ without any magecraft! The Fairy Blades had all shattered long ago without him noticing—even his Murmur had vanished entirely…
He also realized sothing else. The strange voice that would desperately scream in his mind, calling desperately for the return of its heart, had also vanished. The endless chill of the wind continued to resound around him, but he no longer felt threatened by its frigid touch.
How… is this possible?... It felt as if he had been thrown into an alternate reality. As for whether an answer existed, there was no reason to ever believe it when the source was highly unreliable.
“It's a fairly simple principle,” Silmar said in a rather professional tone, ignoring his provocations. “It isn’t us that is moving, but space itself.”
“Space?...” Soren couldn’t help but scrutinize his words.
The enigmatic saint laughed. “Haven’t you wondered why we have yet to reach the summit of this chasm? It's because the space above us stretches to infinity! And so does the space below us. We are both stationary and moving—helpless against the tides of ti and fate… Only when the opportune mont arrives, will we reach our desired path.”
Although Soren knew there was no use in trying to decipher his truths from lies, he still decided to obtain the information anyway. Silmar was right about one thing, after all. He was indeed a scribe…
Sensing his thoughts, the Whispering Dream smiled then continued, “It is to be expected. After all, this is a relic belonging to an Age before the First.
“The Cathedral of Aeons. Where even the Gods had once knelt…”
The words spun in his mind. “Cathedral…” Even though he vowed to try and ignore his words, his curiosity couldn’t help but compel him to listen.
A relic from before the First Age?... And the Gods…
How is that even possible…
It was only then did he notice sothing. The strange chasm they were ‘falling’ or ‘flying’ through was not as simple as it seed. The darkness that once obstructed its every detail had already vanished, leaving behind sothing truly incomprehensible.
This chasm… It wasn’t just another cavernous path.
It was an engineered structure.
One that was crafted with both purpose and elegance. The surrounding walls that were once draped in shadows were now illuminated by the distant vibrance of starlight. Reflecting in his eyes was a vast circumference of interlinked murals, cascading into the infinite above and below, surrounding him from all sides.
The carved stones continued to co and go as the space moved around them, leaving him with no way to fully admire their artistry. So depicted horrifying scenes, others were far more familiar…
But there was one thing they all held in common: history.
They were depicting Yarian’s history…
“This chasm once went by an ancient na too. The Empyreans called it the Main Branch.”
“The Main Branch…” The words evoked an image in his mind, which the Whispering Dream understood as well.
“You’ve finally realized it.” He said with a chuckle. “Indeed, the branching caves you see across this jagged mountain… All of them are nothing more than shadows of a long forgotten truth. Reflections of what the ancients once called The Side Branches.”
“.....”
Soren stood amidst the receding shadows, unsure of what to even say. As more and more stars filled the skies above, he finally heard Silmar speak once again:
“Welco… to the Celestial Heights. The true reflection of Mount Tolarion’s holy existence!”
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