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nield -> RE: =WPC 2024= Field of Gemstone (12/28/2024 7:39:22)
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The world screamed, wrenching The Crying Man from his thoughts. He tried to step towards the lightning caller but found he could not move his legs, his body being encroached upon by something. Though he struggled briefly, the mysterious substance was relentless, sealing his entire body in short order, so he soon surrendered to its inexorable march. Ah, so this is how it ends…
In that enclosed space, his tears which spilled forth endlessly threatened him. Though they could not get into his mouth, they spilled up his nose, causing him to gag. Then the tomb shattered and The Crying Man collapsed to his hands and knees as he spluttered the invasive tears back out his nose.
When the images finished reforming, the lightning caller was gone, shards of crystal scattered where she had last been standing. Looking around he saw his ally was also gone, leaving just him, the backstabber and the last foe. However, for what had gone, something new had arrived; in the middle of the cave stood a portal, through which he could see the maze he’d been in.
The two women weren’t moving towards him, all hostility was gone. It seems they sense it too. The battle is done. But what is this? ‘Prove yourself worthy, Pawns, or perish in vibrancy.’ We’ve clearly not proven ourselves but we’re allowed to just… go? Our death is not a guarantee?
He struggled to his feet, switching his sword into his off hand and raised his head to face the ceiling. Adrenaline was wearing off and his breathing became ragged, his main hand burning and pain raging across his back. He turned to the portal and slowly staggered towards it, leaving the battlefield behind.
In the maze once more, he walked aimlessly, simply following whatever path lay before him as the maze shifted constantly. But as he walked, tendrils of vine and thorn reached out to scrape along his suit and each time they did he heard fragments of whispers. forget… forget… forget!
When he realised it was his own mind’s voice he heard, he frowned inwardly and the whispers grew louder and more defined. I’d rather just forget! ...Did I… choose to forget them? Why? What reason could I have had? As he kept walking the whispers continued to grow louder and more distinct. I didn’t just forget them once… but again and again… why? What happened? But for all he questioned, answers were not forthcoming, just further fragmented echoes of unremembered moments where he cried out to forget.
After a while more of vague wandering through an ever changing labyrinth, he came upon an open area of the maze. The path behind him closed as he entered and he could see no other exits currently. Within the area there was a garden chair sitting before a small table and he decided he may as well sit while he pondered how to actually get out of this place.
After a short time he noticed that vines from the maze wall had crept towards the chair and were crawling up the legs. He was about to stand up when he heard a voice whisper in his mind Ah, my little raven… He frowned inwardly. Who…? That’s neither Annabelle nor Jicella. Who could it… His thoughts trailed off as the voice repeated; Ah, my little raven… Although his expression remained as static as ever, his entire body trembled as fragments of memory slipped through the broken Blocks that had shattered during battle.
Mum?
“Ah, my little raven… where have you flown?” The woman with long, full black hair and sparkling sky-blue eyes said while she looked around with exaggerated movements. The young boy giggled as she went right past his hiding place. “Chirp chirp!” the young boy chimed, as he stifled more giggles.
The woman swept back, her arms embracing the young boy “Ah, my little raven, you have flown home.” The young boy curled up in her arms as she rocked back and forth. “My little raven, always remember to face forwards, never turn aside from what pains you.” The boy was too young to understand what his mother was talking about, but he listened all the same.
“If you always face your troubles and walk forwards with your head held high, you will weather sorrow, overcome misfortune and dispel distrust. So just you remember this mother’s words, my little raven, so you may always be happy.”
I… The Crying Man found himself quite distraught to have this single memory of his mother slip back into his hands. ...I haven’t faced my problems in a long time… and I haven’t been happy for as long. He stood up as the vines crawled away from him, seemingly having delivered the message from his own past.
Then all I have to do is face my problems. Everything else comes after that. He faced the Blocks in his mind and Shattered them all. Memories flew through his mind as he remembered everything about himself. Ah… That’s why…
Brennan had his arms folded, looking up at Annabelle. “So you think this ‘Writer’ entity is poisoning Jicella’s mind against us, Annabelle?” She nodded in response. “Yes, I overheard her muttering darkly to herself about how she ‘wouldn’t let that happen’ and I’ve seen her glaring at me when she thinks neither you nor I will notice. I believe the entity has put her under some kind of misunderstanding and you’ll need to correct it.”
Brennan cocked his head and frowned. “Why can’t you correct it, Annabelle?” “Mmh, I tried talking to her but she just scoffed at me and ignored anything I had to say. Brennan I really believe it needs to be you.” He didn’t understand how she was so sure, but under her serious gaze he couldn’t help but give in.
Unfortunately however, The man had long forgotten what he had once memorised as a child who didn’t understand what he was hearing and he turned away from the problem in front of him. “I’ll talk to her in the morning, okay Annabelle?” Annabelle hesitated but nodded after a brief moment. “So long as you make sure to do so.” He held out his arms to her. Annabelle hesitated, thinking hard, but relented, grabbing his hands and letting him pull her in for a kiss.
At that moment a soul wrenching howl rang out, startling the two lovers. As they turned a figure emblazoned with fiery wings charged at them, tears pouring from her eyes. “Jic-” “SHUT UP! I WON’T HEAR ANYTHING FROM YOU, YOU HEARTBREAKER!” Brennan’s mind could not keep up with what was happening. He barely managed to understand that she was referring to him when he felt her teeth close around his throat and he heard a bloodcurdling scream from Annabelle.
The next he knew, he was lying on the ground, with no strength in his body as his mind wandered, backed by the sound of flesh being torn, before his consciousness faded. When he woke up again the smell of charcoal was prevalent in his mind. As he sat up he thought he’d had a horrific nightmare… but reality would reveal itself shortly as he looked around the burnt-out building around him, finding himself wearing an unfamiliar suit.
Exploration revealed little, a small burnt-out village that resembled where he, Annabelle and Jicella had been staying recently. As he ran his hands over the suit he was wearing, he found a disturbing message sewn into it that shattered any hopes he’d had. It was a message from Annabelle, telling him what had happened after Jicella tore his throat out, before letting him know that the suit was made from Annabelle’s ashes. Tears started to flow unrelenting from his eyes as his hands shook and he screamed soundlessly, ‘Something like this, I’d rather just forget!’ That day, the Crying Man was born.
Learning the truth caused his heart to hurt more than any of the physical wounds he had picked up, but Brennan steeled himself. Running away from it again… won’t do anything. Just turns me into an entity surviving day by day, but never living. I must weather this sorrow and overcome my misfortunes… and live. For you, Annabelle. That Writer entity interfered with your magic… but you still managed to save me. So I’ll kill him, who ruined us all, even if it takes me uncountable eons.
The tears that had flowed unending for years finally stopped, the smile on Brennan’s face vanished and he opened his eyes. The images of Annabelle and Jicella were there but they soon evaporated without new tears to maintain their forms. He raised his sword, its edge unveiled as an opening in the maze revealed itself. Time to go home. Time to get started. I am Brennan Devland Herron and you will rue what you have done, Writer.
He walked through the opening and soon found himself in the Ashtyellar forest, a primeval place. Standing in front of him, almost as if it had been waiting, was a full-grown Niqxzlqotl, staring directly at him. Brennan frowned, before noticing that it had an egg held with its tail. The Niqxzlqotl scratched words into the dirt. ‘It’s you. The man who ruined this egg’s mother.’ Brennan’s eyes went wide and he opened his mouth to defend himself, but no noise came out.
The Niqxzlqotl gave a feline grin and scratched more words in the dirt. ‘Don’t worry, I know it wasn’t your fault. The Writer wrote a tragedy of your lives. Human, I will make a deal with you. Raise this child well and I will help you kill that creature.’ Brennan fell into disbelief, sorrow creasing his features as he trembled. He wrote in the dirt like the Niqxzlqotl had. ‘How can you possibly trust me to look after that egg?’ ‘Because you failed its mother. So you will make it up to the child. Am I wrong?’ Brennan could only shake his head and held out his hands. The egg was deposited in them and then the great cat before him shrank down to a kitten. Brennan’s eyes widened. The Old One… this being before me is unfathomably old, going by the stories Jicella told of him. ‘The deal is struck.’ ‘I look forward to working with you, Old One.’
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