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Memoirs 371 - Waiting beyond the fray
🕑 Added 2025-06-29 22:36:44 +0000 UTCThe echoes of battle dimmed into a tense hush, broken only by Rosa’s slightly uneven breathing. Scarlett stood silent, watching her.
Then she stepped forward and set a firm hand on Rosa’s shoulder.
“Rosa,” she said, her tone low. “What did you see?”
Rosa met her gaze. Her eyes carried a glassy, unfocused sheen that lingered before softening at the edges into a hint of a smile. “…Nice to see this version of you again.”
Scarlett paused. What was that supposed to mean?
Rosa extended a hand and, without warning, tapped the tip of Scarlett’s nose.
Scarlett blinked. “What—?”
The bard drew back, raising both palms in a gesture of apology. “Sorry, sorry. I know. Not exactly the time, is it? Just had to triple-check you were actually real real. I’ve been…wrong more than a few times already.”
Scarlett studied her closely. There was something in the woman’s expression that was hard to read. Something raw and shaken. “…Rosa. Tell me what you saw.”
Rosa hummed, like she didn’t quite want to answer. “I…don't know, Scarlett. It's just too much to explain. One moment I was here, and the next…well, I was somewhere. A field. A city. A forest. Places filled with people, creatures, things I didn’t know. Some felt real. Others like dreams stitched together wrong.” Her voice dropped. “…A better word might be stories. Living stories, if odd at times. Dozens. Hundreds. And no matter what I did, I couldn’t leave. I really thought that’d be it for me. Thought it’d drive me mad.”
Scarlett’s brow furrowed. Rosa had been gone less than a full minute. But based on what she was saying, much more time had passed from her perspective. How much, though? Could that have been what happened to Ustrum? Trapped in whatever that was until his mind snapped?
Rosa’s eyes searched Scarlett’s face. “Sometimes…I saw something else. Like an ocean of light, stretching forever. Everything was reflected in it. Do you know what that was?”
Scarlett shook her head. “No, Rosa.”
The bard watched her for another moment, then stepped back and pulled her klert from the folds of her cape. She glanced at the battlefield — at their party still locked with gold-hued reflections. “Right. Forgot the mess we were in. Not exactly the time for me to stand around reminiscing. Thanks again for pulling me out, Scarlett.”
Scarlett’s gaze didn't leave her. Rosa stumbled slightly before steadying herself. Scarlett noticed the tremor in her fingers.
“…We will speak of this later,” Scarlett said.
Rosa nodded slowly. “Mm. We probably should. There's…a few things I want to ask you. But first—” She cranked her klert, and a bold, resonant chord rang out. “I need to shake off some of the rust.”
The melody wavered for a heartbeat, then steadied, charms pulsing outwards to bolster the others.
Scarlett drew a mana potion from her [Pouch of Holding], drank, and raised her hands. Flame and water burst forth in alternating waves across the chamber to support her party members.
She intercepted a volley of shadow-laced projectiles from a Regina reflection with a high wall of flame-encased water, then detonated a cluster of Aqua Mines that erupted around three figures flanking Shin. At the same time, flaming arrows swept the chamber in precise arcs, striking lower-level reflections before they could act.
When one of her flame barriers collapsed into steam, she bent the vapour mid-air, reshaping it into a curved water shield to guard Fynn’s flank. Even as the chamber burned and boiled, Scarlett’s thoughts lingered on Rosa’s words.
Living through stories. An ocean of light. That could mean a lot of things. The Memories Scarlett had experienced in the Hall of Echoes came to mind. As did some less desirable possibilities.
Still…what exactly had Rosa seen? And what did the look she’d given Scarlett mean?
Scarlett had a crawling suspicion she’d need to learn the truth herself. And that, somehow, she and Rosa would have to carve out the time to have a long conversation once this was done.
A piercing aura cut through the chamber.
She snapped her gaze to its source. A new figure had emerged, clad in iridescent silver armour traced with pale sigils, cerulean cape trailing. In her hands was a blazing azure blade, nearly as tall as she was.
Briana Smythe. High level. Very high.
Arnaud was immediately there. The reflection lifted her weapon with smooth, deliberate focus in response, adjusting unlike the other reflections.
Their clash was a blur — Scarlett barely caught it before the shockwave cracked the air, vibrating through her bones. The reflection actually blocked Arnaud’s strike, shifting mid-swing as though replaying the moment in reverse. Arnaud’s shorter blade met the azure longsword in a storm of golden-blue sparks. Their auras collided, silver against blue, rippling the chamber in waves of force.
Then Arnaud rotated tight, his sword slicing through the reflection’s shoulder. The copy unravelled into radiant dust.
Its strength looked to have been closer to the original Briana, but thankfully, it seemed to still be lacking.
Scarlett barely had time to hope for any particular reprieve before she spotted another figure at the chamber’s edge. Gangly, cloaked, and holding a tall staff aloft.
Another wave of power pulsed out.
Black sand exploded from the floor around the reflection, coiling upward in writhing tendrils before surging outward in a tide of necrotic force that quickly expanded to consume an entire quarter of the chamber.
Scarlett’s expression hardened.
She moved.
A great wall of fire erupted to meet the tide, but whole sections guttered out instantly, smothered by the cursed sand’s resistance. She answered with water—not in waves, but in pinpoint spears, piercing the mass from multiple angles, reaching for the caster beyond—while she layered more flames to hold the line.
It drained her. She had to alternate rapidly between fire and water. But she managed to check the advance. Kat’s earthen walls blunted some of the stray tendrils, yet it fell to Scarlett to suppress the core spell.
And just as she began to push it back—
A new pressure tore through the chamber.
Then another.
And another.
One after the next, high-level reflections formed. No longer as scattered, more coordinated.
Rosa’s music surged, and Scarlett could almost feel the bard drawing harder on the Heartstone. But it didn’t match the output she’d seen from Rosa before. Was the bard running low on mana? Or simply wearing thin? Or was the chamber’s divine saturation interfering with her bond to the Heartstone?
Whatever the cause, they couldn’t last like this forever. The chamber only grew denser with reflections, nearly replaced as soon as they were struck down, with their collective strength climbing higher.
Another Briana emerged, blade flashing. In a blur, she loosed several azure slashes towards Shin’s blind side. Kat was locked in a brutal duel with a Nareth wielding a monstrous scythe. Fynn fended off three attackers. Allyssa barely dodged a blast of cursed fog.
Scarlett couldn’t break her focus from the necrotic tide.
But they still had Arnaud.
From the corner of her eye, she saw him raise his sword. The Briana’s attack faltered mid-air, cut off before it landed.
His blade ignited, light racing from hilt to tip. He swept in a wide arc, silver flaring outward like an expanding star. Dozens of reflections wrenched violently together, colliding in a knot of golden echoes. Arnaud dashed into the cluster like a shadow. One. Two. Three. Four. His sword danced through armour and limbs, each strike shredding multiple foes at once.
Then, he sheathed the blade.
The moment it clicked into the scabbard, a slight tremor rippled from him. When he pulled it out again, a hairline fracture of silver light burst out once more, impossibly thin and impossibly fast. It bypassed allies, cleaving through enemies with the sound of countless chimes. A good sixth of the chamber erupted in golden sparks before stillness fell.
For just a heartbeat Scarlett thought she saw a trace of fatigue tug at his stance.
But there wasn’t any time for pause.
Four more high-level reflections formed close around him. They descended as one, and Arnaud stood alone to meet them.
Scarlett couldn’t watch any longer as her own opponent pressed harder.
Beyond the wall of cursed sand she was holding at bay, a sickly light flashed. Bone-white skulls burst through the tide, flying low and fast. They passed through her fire with only minor charring, mouths open in soundless laughter, emerald eyes burning.
Letting those reach the party wasn’t an option.
Scarlett tapped deeper into her reserves.
In each skull’s path, miniature suns of white fire blinked into existence. They drained far more mana than she wanted, but it was necessary. The skulls slammed into the spheres one by one, vanishing into ash, the flames devouring them whole.
She raised her arms. The suns collapsed towards each other, fusing into a single enormous sphere that blazed overhead like a second sun. Its radiance scorched the chamber before it descended, surging into the tide of black sand.
The collision was silent yet violent. Air warped as necromantic grains clawed upward, trying to swallow the flame. Slowly, methodically, the sun pressed down, burning grain by grain until, finally, it drilled a tunnel of light clean through the mass.
Scarlett guided it forward.
The sun struck the gangly form of Ovethatake at the spell’s core. She didn’t even see him unravel or hear a chime. But all at once, the black sand dissolved, gone as though it had never existed.
Scarlett exhaled, sharp and shuddering. Even with the [Eternal Flameweaver’s Athame], that took a lot. But Ovethatake’s spell would at least have taken a level 70 companion in the game to cast, so she needed to go all out to counter it.
She downed another mana potion, turned—ready to support Arnaud—
And froze.
Something tugged at her. A flicker in the weave. A thread in the now.
She moved before thought caught up. Spun on instinct.
Yamina was there. Standing directly behind Allyssa.
The Anomalous power surged through Scarlett, no hesitation this time. Her palm seemed to burn white and grey. The [Garments of Form] blinked her forward, between them in an instant.
This time, she wasn’t late.
Her hand struck Yamina square in the chest—
And reality folded.
Scarlett blinked.
She was no longer in the chamber. She stood in an endless ocean of light.
Stillness. Silence. Yamina was gone. The others too. Only her.
…Hopefully, she hadn’t just made a mistake.
The battle outside had been reaching a breaking point. The reflections would keep spawning. Even with the Anomalous power, she could only affect what was near, and the reflections were rooted in the Fate smothering the chamber.
So she had gambled. Gone after Yamina. The likely epicentre.
She hadn’t necessarily expected to end up here so quickly.
Her gaze swept across the vast expanse. The same ocean Rosa had spoken of. Endless gradients of gold, impossibly smooth and bright, stretching forever. Above it, nothing. A void sky. An unbroken sheet of black without any stars.
Scarlett reached for the Anomalous power. It surged easily, any pain that came with its use already fading.
Something puzzled her, though. Unlike before, there were no threads of Fate around her. The ocean beneath her—somehow supporting her weight—was dense with them, but the space above was completely barren.
And that might actually be a problem.
She’d brought Rosa back by tracing a thread. If none connected this place to the chamber, then…there was no clear path back. She would need another way.
Turning slowly, she scanned the horizon. Far off, she thought she saw a break, a faint shift in the golden monotony. Or perhaps it was a trick of the eye.
A part of her hoped she might’ve glimpsed one of those ‘stories’ Rosa had described, if only to confirm what they truly were.
At the very least, she probably didn’t have to worry about time flowing here. If Rosa’s minute outside had felt like days or more in this place, then perhaps Scarlett had the time she needed to unravel this.
A flicker stirred under her feet.
She frowned and let the Anomalous power flow through her again, sharpening her perception of Fate. Peering into the ocean beneath, she caught brief impressions and glimpses.
An empty desert. A long spine of mountains. A city pressed between them. Hundreds—if not thousands—of fleeting visions raced through her awareness. Slivers of motion, hints of presence. Too fast to grasp in full, but they left an imprint: a dry land of ridgelines and rough winds, a people scraping life from trade and stone.
And the innumerable threads of Fate touching it all.
Some danced with the wind, nudging weather. Others tangled through the beasts roaming the region. Most were minute, indirect — yet a few brushed against individuals.
Scarlett lifted her gaze, drifting over the expanse.
Was this…Fate? As in the full breadth of Fate? Not metaphor or vision, but its real, tangible structure?
…She hadn’t expected it to be something she could stand on.
Taking slow steps forward, she glanced down again. The visions had shifted slightly, into less mountain and more desert. Did that mean she had moved? Was each region of this ocean somehow tied to a place in the real world? If so, where did her current position correspond to? Was this bound to the Material Realm alone, or did it stretch across other realms too?
Her eyes fell to the Orrery on her wrist. She wasn't particularly surprised to find that it was still frozen. She studied it for a while, then returned her focus to the glowing surface beneath her.
When others had spoken of fate, they’d made it sound like some vast, uncaring system. A thing that moved everything in the world along fixed tracks. A great script written in advance. And looking at what surrounded her now…that description might not have been hyperbole. She sensed no intelligence behind this place. No mind. Just enormity, like a machine long since set in motion, simply continuing in its function.
But then…what about Beld Thylelion?
That Fate had been different, hadn’t it? Maybe not thinking, per se, but it wasn’t inert either. It was definitely responsive. Focused, in a way. It had moved like a thing with intention, and it had clearly adapted to her.
She mulled on that as she turned toward the faint variation on the horizon which she still wasn’t sure was real. With no better plan and little sense of direction to cling to, she set out.
Her steps made no sound. The surface under her feet didn’t ripple or bend. It felt like walking on nothing. There also weren’t any shadows here.
She kept walking.
At first, she watched the impressions below, interpreting them as she moved. It wasn’t long before she noticed she’d crossed from land to sea. Currents shifted beneath her, kelp swayed, and silhouettes of aquatic life drifted past. It was both a strange and interesting experience. The water didn’t blur the threads — everything was as distinct as on land. She even thought she glimpsed something massive curled beneath the waves, like some kraken-like form drifting in and out of visibility.
She tried, more than once, to interact with the threads. To shift, alter, or grasp them with the Anomalous power. But the scale was simply too vast. Each attempt slipped away like mist through her fingers. Here, it was as if she were a mote of will hovering over something impossibly large and utterly indifferent.
She wasn’t sure how much time passed like that. At minimum, a few hours. At most, a day? Or so she hoped. The variation in the distance was slowly beginning to take a clearer shape, though it was still too far to fully make out.
More time passed. She observed the sea beneath, learning to better read the threads as they sometimes brushed against schools of fish and other strange drifting forms. Occasionally, she spotted ships. A thread of Fate might touch a sail, a sailor’s shoulder, or trail down a length of rope. But those moments were rare. Mostly, the ocean stretched empty.
Fatigue did creep in. Hunger and thirst as well. The [Pouch of Holding] had enough rations and water, but the rest was trickier. She didn’t feel comfortable sleeping in a place like this. So she relied on Allyssa’s potions. Stamina draughts, mental clarity tonics. Anything to keep herself steady, really. They dulled the edge of her fatigue whenever it began to set in. Not entirely, but enough.
At some point, she did start muttering to herself, but that was more out of boredom than anything else.
How much time passed before she spotted the anomalies? She genuinely didn’t know. She would’ve guessed three or four days, if she had to. Regardless, they were a welcome change. In the otherwise uniform sea of gold, they were something new. Like bruises marring the bright flow.
One was on her right, so she detoured. Eventually, she was standing directly above it, peering down at this dimmed section of Fate’s threads.
Her brows rose.
The image from those threads was unmistakable. A lone, dark spire rising from the depths of a shadowed abyss, ensnared by an eternal storm. What caught Scarlett’s attention was that the storm itself seemed guided by Fate’s threads, yet none reached inside the tower’s walls.
It was…interesting. She wished she could see what was actually causing it. What she knew of the Forgotten Tower didn’t explain that behaviour.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t much more she could decipher from here.
She moved on.
There was another anomaly not too far off, and this one took her more by surprise.
It was Freybrook.
The threads running through the city were surprisingly scarce for its size. She couldn’t get much of a read on its current state, but glimpses of reconstruction and visible infrastructure work suggested she was seeing it in the present. That was a relief. It meant this wasn’t some echo of the past or vision of the future.
Studying the sparse threads more closely, she thought she understood why they were so few.
After all, no matter how hard she searched, she couldn’t glimpse anything that was even remotely near her mansion.
That, in its way, was reassuring. It meant Fate truly had no reach there. But it also made her wonder how that void had formed. She had observed that Fate’s threads lost their intent around her, but here they were just entirely absent, much like with the Forgotten Tower. Was that a result of her continued presence?
If so, it made her wonder even more what was going on in the Forgotten Tower.
Eventually, she left Freybrook behind. There were no more detours. Because by now, she had a good idea of what the original point she had been heading towards was. Though she had been suspecting it for a while.
Sure enough, as the final destination drew closer, her suspicions were confirmed.
Beld Thylelion.
Glimpses of Lake Rellaria and Elystead flickered through her mind as she read the threads beneath her. She looked ahead.
She hadn’t known what to expect here. It was supposed to be the place most bound to Fate in the world. To her, that might have implied a hub of some kind. A nexus. A place that was radiant even in this ocean of gold.
That wasn’t quite that.
What she found was an island cut off from the surrounding sea, drifting and malformed. Something had cracked beneath it, like a massive fissure had torn upward, disrupting the weave. Its shape shifted constantly, and the threads composing it were twisted and chaotic. They forked, split, even reversed, like damaged muscle trying and failing to knit itself together.
Finally, Scarlett understood why Itris had spoken of Fate’s ‘fracture’. There was no better word to describe this.
Her gaze shifted to the island’s centre.
There, amid the chaos, was a shape. Not a building. Not a person. Not exactly. It was more indistinct. Motionless, but pulsing softly. Threads bent inward towards it, forming spirals and knots of power that refused to hold. It was as though Fate had tried to write something into existence here, but the shape it had chosen refused to be told.
Scarlett didn’t move any closer.
“It took you some time to get here,” a voice said from behind.
Comments
Hussar L
Too rude for Gentleman? Maybe Anomolous One
Brantal
Gentleman, isn't it?
