Bladed Soul: Ascend To Necrosberg

VI - Meeting Serrah (I)

Arthus's Narration from a Memory

Like a starving predator fleeting across the glacial poles of the North, the air tore my bitter cold skin, coated by a petrifying chill in every touch. My body shivered weakly, both from fear and starvation. Whenever I ignored my growling stomach, I would realize it was actually the fear that made my body tremble.

Luck must have had a sudden change of heart. Yes, I was able to flee from the King, steal his dagger but in return? What? Was it even worth it?

It came to a point that I even considered dying as a solution. A cheap escape from the sufferings I was going through and the thousand more to come. Life wasn't forgiving, cruel to every being regardless of age.

The gloomy forest had been a prison ─ a living hell, I must admit. Trapped in there for five, six? I couldn't remember the count of days. Not a single piece of food grazed my tongue; just the flavorless blocks of ice I would form with my magic. The taste left my mouth dry and numb.

Peculiar plants that had nurtured into bizarre forms strewn the area in every direction. There was even a thicket that had eyes. Yes, big, round, eyes that shimmered with red.

It felt like the trees were glaring at me behind their spread-out branches and lifeless barks. I did my best to avoid the creatures but I was cornered for good.

"Beauteous fresh meat! A child of the Merlins for ours to eat."

"Aye! But what absurdity is this? In his flimsy hands is the cursed dagger of the lost legions."

"Shut your whining! Cursed or not, be grateful that dinner is served on our plates."

Every now and then, the nasty, faint whispers would resonate from the dark crooks, submerging my ears in paranoia that almost ripped me off from what was left of my sanity.

Dismissing my hesitation, I would always turn towards the other direction.

Crazier than a madman in shambles, I was running round and round the thick, endless labyrinth with no hope of escaping. Curses flew as I blunder upon the rocks on the rocky path. Only did stumbling across the singular thought of vengeance kept me breathing ─ alive at the very least.

Overwhelming masses of monsters lurked the place. Some of which I was aware, existed only in the bedtime tales that Mother used to tell me. Farcryes, corpseweeds, and creatures I knew not the name of. The fact that the vile populace was comprised mostly of savage trolls intensified my already haunting fears. 

All of them were ready to feast upon a lone child single-handedly equipped with a stolen dagger.

I hid behind a large willow tree whose trunk was scarred with thorn-laden vines. Cupping my hands over my ears, tears began to ripple in my eyes.

I mustn't cry. I kept encouraging telling myself. The evil would only manifest my fears, and I'd succumb to an eternity of misery.

Yet, I couldn't help it. Moments later, I felt the warm thin streams trickle down my cheeks. At the same time, the creatures of the dark slowly inched closer. Their hisses were becoming louder and manic. All I could do was shut my eyes tight, knowing the end was near.

My chest started to constrict, a suffocating pang chewed off my every breath. I wanted to convince myself it was caused by the fear. But I knew I was wrong. It was the guilt and shame. To die in there was accepting the truth that I'd never be able to avenge my family and friends.

It was a difficult reality to grasp yet there was not any other.

"Call me, child."

My eyes darted around, lifting me to my full consciousness. Who just spoke? The voice was calm like a thousand evening breezes, which kind of brought me back to Mergrande. I was disappointed for there was none.