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Memoirs 367 - Spurning
🕑 Added 2025-06-20 21:18:16 +0000 UTCThe atmosphere carried a blend of suspense and expectancy as Scarlett and the others pressed deeper into the dark passages of whatever level of Beld Thylelion they now occupied.
Even though she knew someone like Ustrum was unlikely to have brought subordinates, she still found herself on edge at every faint sound or whenever they entered another empty stone chamber, eyes scanning each corner for threats.
She wasn’t anxious, exactly, but there was a tension she couldn’t quite shake. It had more to do with Yamina’s warning—and whatever had happened to Ustrum’s simulacrum—than with any real fear of encountering more members of the Undead Council.
Eventually, the relative monotony of the stone hallways yielded to a larger chamber. It was still carved from the pale rock, but unlike the others, this one wasn’t empty. The floor was strewn with dozens of shattered alabaster-white constructs, broken in varying degrees. Wardens, each with a cracked, vacant hourglass embedded in its chest. Their spilt sand had formed mounds beneath them, mingled with much darker grains that coated most of the chamber floor.
They all stopped at the sight.
“I’m guessing…that guy did this,” Kat said after a long pause.
Scarlett inclined her head. “It would appear so.”
Considering the wardens’ resilience, the destruction was honestly impressive. She couldn’t recall a single part of the game where so many appeared at once. She wondered how long it would’ve taken her group to deal with them.
“…There is little point in lingering,” she said, resuming her pace. As they crossed, she parted the black sand with her hydrokinesis, clearing a path through the remnants of Ustrum’s magic.
Necromancy could take many forms in this world—not all recognisable as dealings with the dead—but direct contact was best avoided, no matter its guise.
They passed the remains of a warden riddled with hundreds of tiny dark fractures like spidery veins. Allyssa slowed, studying it briefly before looking to Arnaud ahead of her.
“Dad… What was it you didn’t want to say earlier? About your assignment in the Unresting Steppes?”
Arnaud turned. “…Honey, that’s information only the Shields Guild’s higher-ups are cleared for.”
“But it’s connected somehow, isn’t it? To what’s happening here? Wouldn’t it help if we knew?”
He shook his head. “There’s no proof they’re related.” After a pause, his eyes flicked to Scarlett.
She met his gaze. “But you suspect they are.”
He regarded her for a moment, then faced forward again. “…My assignment in the Steppes was to investigate rising activity from the Undead Council. I can’t share all the details, but we believed they’d recovered more since the last war with the empire than previously thought. I’ve spent more time in the Steppes than most, so I was chosen.”
Scarlett nodded to herself. That aligned with what she knew of his role in the game.
“What I found confirmed the rumours,” Arnaud continued. “Most of the Council’s citadels were thought destroyed in the last conflict, but I personally verified at least a dozen had been rebuilt. And beyond that…” He fell silent for a few seconds. “They were constructing something else.”
Scarlett frowned. Something else?
“What was it?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I can’t describe it.”
“Did it resemble their citadels? Or was it something entirely different?”
“I can’t say.”
“You did not see it?”
“No, I did.”
“Then describe what you saw.”
Arnaud glanced back, his moustache ruffling as he sighed. “That is precisely the problem, Baroness. I can’t.”
Scarlett’s eyes narrowed. “You mean to say something prevents you from speaking of it.”
“Nearly. But more than that, it is as if I can’t grasp what I saw. I know it was a structure, and large…but beyond that, words fail me.”
Scarlett studied him. He had no real reason to lie. And yet what he described didn’t match anything she recognised. Which meant they were dealing with yet another large divergence from Fate. This time from the Undead Council.
They were becoming far too common.
“Like I said, I can’t be sure what I found is connected,” Arnaud said. “But I suspect it might be.”
“…It would not surprise me,” Scarlett replied, her gaze drifting to the wardens’ broken forms and the devastation Ustrum had wrought.
Kat spoke. “Was that when you ran into that other ‘simulacrum’, Arnaud? You know, the one of…Ustrum?”
Scarlett looked at her. “He is not a Vile. You can speak his name freely.”
Kat rubbed the back of her neck. “Sorry. I’m still processing that part, okay?”
“You seemed quick enough to wrap your head around goddesses and communions,” Rosa said, raising an amused brow. “But this still throws you?”
“I’m sorry I’m not a veteran cultist,” Kat muttered. “I guess my brain’s got a daily limit for world-shattering discoveries. Who would have thought.”
Rosa clicked her tongue. “Tch. Initiates. Always forgetting to pace their existential crises, no matter how much you warn them.”
“Oi.” Kat shot her a look. “Don’t you start with that, too.”
Scarlett spared them a glance, then returned her attention to Arnaud. He had been silent through the exchange, but now turned back.
“To answer your question, Kat — yes,” he said. “It was during my investigation of that structure that I encountered the Council’s leader. Or so I thought. Now, I believe it was one of his simulacrums, as the Baroness suggested. We fought. I escaped. Then I began my journey back to the empire.”
“Was he strong?” Fynn asked, genuine interest flickering in his voice.
Arnaud nodded. “Very.”
“Stronger than you?”
“It’s difficult to say. He had subordinates with him, and my objective was only reconnaissance and report.”
“Hmm.” Fynn seemed to accept that, though his eyes strayed to the ruined wardens. “The one we met was strong, too. I’m not sure we could have won.”
“Perhaps you are correct. Perhaps not. But I am grateful we did not have to test it.”
Silence fell as they reached the far end of the chamber, where another passage awaited. This one was unlike the others—narrower, descending steeply into darkness. From its depths, a palpable energy pulsed.
Scarlett conjured lanterns of flame, sending them drifting into the tunnel. The flames vanished into shadow, though she could still sense them. The passage was simply…deep.
The group exchanged looks before Fynn stepped forward, and the rest followed.
Beld Thylelion brimmed with strange forces, woven into its very stone. Scarlett had long since discerned that much.
One presence—the weight of divinity—was especially strong here.
Another pressed like a dense gravity, as if to mark the site’s importance. She suspected it was the aftereffect of the immense mana resonating through the ruins.
And the third… It was something she’d only barely sensed before, through her tenuous link to the Anomalous One’s power via Thainnith’s legacy.
The burden of Fate.
As they descended, the weight of divinity thickened. By now, that was almost expected. Scarlett caught Rosa’s expression tighten slightly after only a few steps, though the bard pressed on without complaint. It was concerning in a way, but it still didn’t seem immediately dangerous.
What unsettled Scarlett more was the creeping pull of Fate that grew steadily around them.
Until now, she hadn’t thought of it as much more than a conceptual force — undefinable, unknowable, and shapeless. Even when she’d sensed traces of it upon entering Beld Thylelion, it had remained abstract and distant. Unlike the other forces here, it hadn’t felt quite real.
Now, it did.
It pressed against her with every step, turning more and more unyielding. More defined. It was starting to feel like these invisible threads tightened around her limbs.
The others must have been affected by it as well—she saw it in their silence, their wary glances, the stiffness of their movements—but no one brought it up. As if they sensed it without quite registering it.
Meanwhile, Scarlett felt like she was walking deeper into a cage, shackled and chained by weights she couldn’t cast off.
What did Fate look like, when given shape? She didn’t know. The concept itself was hard to even imagine.
Yet she suspected that was where they were headed.
She lost track of time. Somewhere along the line, she stopped thinking about it or distance. All her focus turned to the rhythm of her breath and the placement of her feet.
And still, the pressure mounted.
Eventually, it felt as though she carried a literal stone coffin on her back.
“—rlett?” someone might have called from beside her. She wasn’t sure who. The words were like a ripple in the flood crashing against her ears.
“—!”
A tug at her arm brought her to a halt. Blinking, she realised the others had stopped, all staring at her.
She also realised she was drenched in sweat.
Her brow furrowed. Someone spoke again, but it was like hearing through a storm. Rosa’s lips moved, concern etched across her face. Allyssa and Kat exchanged words. Fynn’s sharp eyes were locked on her.
Scarlett drew the sweat from her skin with a sweep of hydrokinesis.
“We cannot stop here,” she said, hoping her voice came out at a reasonable volume. It took a surprising amount of effort.
Kat answered, but Scarlett couldn’t make it out. Maybe they were debating turning back. They didn’t seem nearly as affected by this pressure as she was. But they couldn’t possibly turn back. Not now.
She stepped forward.
Arnaud blocked her path. The man eyed her, his mouth opening soundlessly.
She arched a brow at him.
He repeated himself, gaze hardening, then he glanced at Rosa.
A ripple of familiar warmth washed over Scarlett — one of Rosa’s charms. It did nothing to lessen the burden.
Arnaud spoke again.
Scarlett was silent for a moment, then released a breath. “Whatever it is you are saying…it does not matter.” She moved past him. “We continue. Do not stop, regardless of what you see.”
She fixed her eyes on the flicker of her flames down the tunnel.
For a moment, she worried the others might try to stop her. But Arnaud and Fynn soon moved ahead, both taking the lead.
She assumed Rosa and the others followed, but she didn’t have the energy to look back.
They kept going.
With every minute, the pressure built. Eventually, Scarlett could no longer spare mana for her flames, focusing only on the simple act of breathing. Someone produced an enchanted lantern to light the path instead.
She caught herself wondering if she was even walking anymore. When she looked down, her feet were still moving, but they didn’t feel like her own, as if she were watching someone else walk in her stead.
How had she not collapsed already?
Then she realised — arms supported her from either side.
She might’ve turned to see who, but just then, she caught it. Light. Faint, far ahead. Illumination that didn’t belong to them.
That last stretch was worst of all. Her body, which might have been moving on instinct alone, suddenly demanded all of her attention, yet at the same time, it seemed to have forgotten how to function entirely. And the pressure…it surged, a hundredfold. She was no longer carrying a coffin.
She was carrying the entire ceiling.
Her ears rang. Something wet slid from her nose.
All she could do was lock her gaze on the distant glow and pour every shred of will into reaching it.
And then—
She crossed the threshold.
It was as if she’d stepped out of a storm and into its eye.
The storm broke. The pressure vanished as though it had never been. Her senses snapped into place, her limbs once more her own. She drew breath like one breaking the surface after nearly drowning.
A single, shuddering inhale.
That had been awful.
What would she have done if it had only gotten worse once they got here? She’d been well past the verge of collapse, yet she’d still forced herself to push on. Where had that stubborn compulsion come from? She wasn’t sure, but it had been reckless.
With a thought, she cleansed the sweat from her skin again, glancing to the side. Kat and Rosa were the ones supporting her.
She slipped free of their grip, drew a handkerchief from her [Pouch of Holding], and wiped the blood from her face. Judging by the amount, one of them must have tended to it already.
She took one step forward and looked back. Kat, Rosa, Allyssa, and Shin stood behind her, all wearing the same worried expression.
“…Are you better now, Scarlett?” Rosa asked.
Scarlett studied her. The bard’s eyes were nearly black, streaked with violet, the Heartstone’s power fully suffusing her. Likely to shield her from the divine aura here.
Under other circumstances, Scarlett might have scolded Rosa for focusing on her instead of herself. But considering the state she had just been in…
She’d let it slide.
“I am…better now, yes,” she said after a while, letting the bloodstained handkerchief dissolve into motes of dust that scattered to the floor.
“You sure…?” Rosa didn’t seem entirely convinced.
“Mostly, yes.”
Scarlett really did feel better. Far more than she should have. Despite what had just happened, she wasn’t nearly as drained as expected.
It was clear that Fate—whatever it really was—had been more hostile to her than she had anticipated. But this chamber…this place was free of it.
She turned, letting her gaze sweep the chamber.
It was new to her, and yet unmistakably familiar.
An expanse of smooth white stone stretched outward like a sea of frozen moonlight. Above it drifted an intricate lattice of rotating runes and shifting arrays, each pulsing with golden light. Thin strands descended at intervals, luminous filaments drawn with quiet, deliberate purpose.
Now, those threads were gathering. Converging. Moving…towards them.
Golden motes shimmered in the air, shapes forming — vague humanoid silhouettes, emerging like echoes finding bodies.
Scarlett braced herself.
There was no rest for the weary, apparently.
Comments
E.O. Tenkey
Should be "no rest for the weary." Though they are undoubtedly also wary.
Hussar L
Intense
