Hazy disclosures and eerie awakenings

Lucas stared at the man intensely, a palpable sense of wariness in his heart. He scanned him several times, trying to find a single sign of the man being hostile. However, there was nothing. Rather, an inexplicable familiarity tugged at Lucas's mind, like the ghost of a memory long buried. It wasn't a feeling he could explain, but it thrummed faintly, a thread connecting them, as though spun by the Goddess of Life herself.

The long-haired man reciprocated the stare, but his violet eyes indicated he was pleased rather than wary. His mouth was curved in a partial smile. He seemed to not feel threatened in the slightest.

"Who are you?"

The words hung between the two for a few seconds. The man shrugged, the motion languid and almost off-handed.

"Merely a concerned observer."

His voice was clear yet tinged with a gravelly undertone suggesting years of enduring in harsh conditions. His skin, marred by old scars and weathered like worn leather, bore testament to a life hard-lived. His eyes, however, were unwaveringly vivid as he watched Lucas with calm, calculated curiosity.

Frustration simmered beneath Lucas's calm tone, his jaw tightening. He just barely fought the urge to lash out. His fingers twitched at his side, betraying his rising irritation. "Cut the games. You know exactly what I mean."

The man sighed lightly. The amethyst of his eyes bore deep into Lucas's, almost like a way for him to gauge the young man's reactions. "I am a part of you," he gave Lucas a quizzical answer. "You may call me Adlin."

"Adlin..." Lucas repeated the name, scanning the man's posture. 'That name... leaves a really strange aftertaste.' he blinked once or twice, uncertain about the situation. "What do you want from me? What's your connection to Eamon?"

"Now, now," Adlin raised a hand. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Lucas. You know what happens when too much is spoken, no?"

Lucas's hand jerked briefly. Several memories surged as though waiting for this exact moment. Eamon's pained expression was definitely real. The sensation of pain when he tried speaking the man's name to Seraphina still lingered, although it was just a memory. Them being connected to speaking of some things was obvious, even though Lucas did not understand exactly why it was those specific things. Was it just because Eamon used 10th-circle magic to reach him? Or was there a more profound meaning to that? Only one thing was for certain.

'I can't ask what I want, and he can't answer...' Lucas sighed quietly. 'What should I do, then?'

Seemingly reacting to his thoughts, Adlin's brow raised lightly before stepping sideways.

"Let's have a little walk, shall we?"

The young Stormrider looked around briefly. There was no place to go, but at the same time, no reason remained for them to stay there. Therefore, when Adlin took his steps away, he followed while keeping a slight distance. The silence stretched between them, heavy and taut. Lucas felt the void around him, a stark stillness that only sharpened his unease.

"Where are we going?" Lucas tentatively broke the silence.

"Nowhere in particular," Adlin replied, his tone measured. "I think better on my feet, unlike ahjussi."

"...why do you call him that?"

Adlin glanced at him briefly. Within his violet eyes, some unknown feeling blinked. Then, he turned ahead, staring briefly into the blank expanse as his mouth parted, "Out of ten thousand people, a single name can narrow it down to ten. But divide them into men and women, and all you do is carve the crowd in two."

"What do you mean by that?"

"There are forces in this world that see us as pawns. Cross their lines, and they will erase you - no hesitation, no mercy," Adlin's hand raised. Its battered, rugged skin had large calluses, no doubt from swinging a weapon. "But as long as they don't know where exactly you are and what you do, it's possible to evade their grasp... temporarily, at least."

Lucas didn't need to hear the rest of the unfinished answer. A thought had already erected in his mind. "So, the more we dilute the subject, the less likely we are to get hurt like me or... he was?"

The older man gave him a small, almost father-like smile as he nodded. "There are many old men in the world, but very few have the same name as he does."

"But why does it matter? Who doesn't want us talking about things... and why?" Lucas asked carefully, scanning the man's unwavering expression.

"...let's just say, the world doesn't appreciate when we speak of things that exist without justification. And the less we can draw its attention, the better."

'Again, a quizzical answer... but this time, I feel like I understand at least a little. I wish I could ask who in the world would be punishing us for speaking too much, but I doubt he'll be able to answer.'

Lucas let out a brief breath out of his lungs. Still keeping his distance from Adlin, he took a moment to scrutinize the man's stride better. It was a balanced yet refined walking style that clearly hinted at the same thing his hands did - a protracted time spent on the battlefield. Every step was made in a very calculated way like the man was expecting an ambush on a subconscious level and was more than prepared to deal with it. Just how long did it have to be as such for this behavior to be etched like this? Months no doubt, or perhaps even years... the young Stormrider shivered at the thought.

"That aside," the older man glanced at Lucas briefly before coming to a halt. "We shouldn't loiter. I know you have many questions, Lucas, but my ability to remain here is limited. Three questions. I will answer three questions as well as I can. That's the most I can give you."

Lucas nodded faintly, noticing that Adlin's expression had lost its relaxed demeanor. Now, the man looked at him with intensity and focus that was no duller than Deuce's. On a subconscious level, he could tell the man spoke the truth.

He swallowed dry saliva. His breathing quickened. From thousands of thoughts and ponders, he needed to carefully select three. What should he ask? About the connection between Adlin, Eamon, and Thines? About his class and the mysterious stat?

Lucas released a quiet breath. He knew at least one of the questions he wanted to ask.

"You probably won't tell me more than... ahjussi did about who will die on Friday," he said, his heart tightening in his chest briefly as though to sound an alarm. "But I want to know other specifics. Where, when, how? Tell me something about that."

Adlin nodded, his white hair catching the light like threads of silk as his gaze fixed on the horizon, distant but unflinching. Longing crossed his features as his mouth parted, "It will be in Weydan, around noon," he spoke slowly, every word weighted before it spilled forth.

The young Stormrider sighed with faint relief. 'So... it won't be anyone from home, at least...' he almost smiled at the realization. So far, with the silent guillotine that Eamon presaged, he could not help but worry about if someone from his immediate surroundings - like Nimue or Ina - were in any danger. This, however, dispelled his doubts, at least partway.

Glancing to the side, Lucas imagined the outline of his status screen, etched into his mind like a crude drawing carved in an iron plate. The second question was already pressing itself on his lips, but he needed to make sure Adlin would understand it.

"From what I understand, I was not supposed to be a Dream Walker. Yet, I was able to enter Dreamscape and class as a Hybrid Class, with half of it being what it is, and half being something unknown. What is that unknown part and its related stat, and why did it increase when you intervened?"

Adlin hummed briefly. His eyes closed, an indescribable emotion crossing his features as he gathered his thoughts. With every stable breath, his pose shifted slightly.

"I cannot tell you much about either," his mouth parted. "But I'll try to explain the stat at least. In short, you can see it as the manifestation of the world's will."

"The world's will..." Lucas repeated, his voice trailing off as if tasting the words for the first time. They felt heavy, almost tangible, pressing against his mind like an unseen weight. "What is it, exactly?" he inquired, curiosity seeping through his determination.

Suddenly, Adlin's hand raised, a violet aura enveloping it. Lucas instinctively stepped back, his hands almost clenching as he prepared to defend. However, as he scrutinized the man's actions, he noticed that the aura shifted, forming a small figure in front of them both. Within seconds, Adlin's power waned, exposing a small rose bush in front of them.

"A rose blooms and withers, its petals scattering to the wind. But the world's will can defy that cycle," Adlin murmured, brushing a callused hand over the bush. As he spoke, the scattered petals floated upward, reassembling themselves in a delicate spiral. The flower glowed faintly, its maroon petals splitting to reveal a second bloom connected to the same stalk. "The world's will reshapes what should be, bending nature's rules to its design. But there is a hefty price for using it."

Lucas's brow furrowed, the man's words sparking a flicker of recognition. The vague familiarity gnawed at him, elusive yet insistent. ‘So… the world can make the impossible happen, is that what he means…? Which would mean... he can influence reality, and that stat reflects that...?’

But the ponder would have to wait as Adlin spoke again, "Now, your third question?"

Lucas bit back a dozen questions, the words burning on his tongue. He **** himself to breathe, his focus narrowing to a single thread of thought. He brushed his hair briefly, focusing on Adlin.

"You, ahjussi, and Thines. What's the connection between you three? Why did you call her a liar?"

The question visibly stirred something in the man's mind. At the mention of the goddess, Adlin's expression twisted. His jaw tightened, and his fists clenched briefly before he **** them to relax. The surge of anger radiating from him was palpable, like the heat of a distant fire. Whatever history he shared with Thines, it ran deep, scarring him in ways Lucas couldn't begin to comprehend.

"...I just called her what she is," Adlin eventually answered slowly. "She is nothing but a twisted manipulator. You should not believe a word she speaks," he warned him, his voice heavy. "She will use and discard you whenever it pleases her. Ahjussi was the one who helped me break free from her will. And we want to help you not fall under her."

Lucas could hear that Adlin's voice was heavily tinted with a grimness that suggested some history between the two. A morbid past that was haunting him, like a river of boiling tar **** the air with its poison just like the man was with the pressure that oozed from his body. Deep down, a part of Lucas - the same part that had felt the invisible string tying him to this man - knew that Adlin wasn't lying. There was a sense of sincerity and bitter sorrow interwoven with his words, one that could not be discarded easily.

'So... they're enemies... Eamon and Adlin versus Thines...' Lucas frowned. He could sense that the faint connection to the man grew in strength, almost like a rope that gained thickness as he pulled at it. Whatever the reason for that was remained unknown to him.

"And why should I believe your words?" the young Stormrider demanded, squinting. "It's not like you didn't manipulate what was happening. You're the reason I hypnotized Ophelia. How are you any different from Thines?"

Adlin frowned briefly. The flicker of emotion on his face waned as he took a deep breath. The bloodlust from his body disappeared like a lie as he fixed his hair.

"Thines wants you to grow stronger so you will elevate her name further in the world. I and ahjussi want you to grow stronger for yourself."

"For myself? As if I'd ever want to be a Psion-like class," Lucas scoffed, his spirit surging with unpleasant feelings.

"I know. It wasn't our intention in the first place," Adlin sighed. "But overcoming the world's will is not easy, and we already paid too much to barter anymore. That class is what you are in the end, and you have to make do with that," he frowned slightly, pointing a finger at the man's chest.

"But why? Why do you two even care? What's the point of this all? If you wanted the specific person to live, why didn't you tell it to them?"

The older man didn't answer. His silent form appeared to falter marginally. He released a shallow breath, his eyes closing briefly before looking at Lucas. This time, however, his expression was somber.

"Lucas," he began softly, the weight in his voice heavy as lead, "There are things you are not meant to know. Not yet, and some - not ever. And the same thing applies to others.”

Lucas clenched his fists, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "So, that's it? I'm just a blind pawn for you to use? Why, of all things, was a goddess interested in me? What was the veil she spoke about? What the hell is a Herald?!" he almost hissed, his knuckles white and blood boiling. It wasn't just anger at Adlin or Eamon he felt. There was a palpable sense of frustration that tore at his spirit, threatening to cloud his mind. He was frustrated about the situation. The more he learned, the less he knew. Questions only mounted, and the answers were never sufficient. Why was it that he had to be kept in the dark?

Suddenly, a loud rumble reverberated throughout the empty expanse. The ground shook under their feet, making Lucas drop to one knee. Adlin was more prepared, backpedaling to regain his balance. As he did so, a massive crack appeared on the surface beneath their feet, almost like a lightning bolt surging between the two, stretching into infinity both ways. Lucas felt his heart throb with tension and trepidation. It was almost like the space itself wanted to separate him from Adlin.

"...I cannot answer that," the white-haired man said as the sound quieted. "I've already overstayed my welcome."

Lucas didn't answer, recovering from what just happened. The air grew restless, swirling in tightening spirals that tugged at Lucas's hair and clothes. A low hum reverberated through the void, rising to a crescendo as Adlin's form began to dissolve, threads of light unraveling his silhouette.

"Before we part ways, let me just tell you one thing," Adlin sighed. "You need to trust yourself, Lucas. Not Thines. Not ahjussi. Not me. Yourself," he emphasized, his expression hardening. "Grow stronger, and find your way forward."

Lucas's violet eyes scanned Adlin's form as the man slowly dissipated into nothingness. Within seconds, the empty plane was devoid of the man's presence, only the massive fissure on the floor serving as proof of what had just happened.

...

Lucas felt mind racing with more questions than ever. The void seemed to recoil, the air thinning as if Adlin's presence had kept it anchored. Now, it felt like a fragile shell, one wrong step away from shattering.

"...find my way forward..."

He repeated the man's final words. Their elusive nature stirred a glint of anger within him. It was just another cryptic babble, even though Lucas did infer the meaning this time.

‘Whatever will happen on Friday, it won’t be small, and I will be thrown in the midst of it.’

Lucas clenched his fists, his determination hardening as the void of his Dreamscape began collapsing in on itself. If no one would give him clear answers, then he'd tear them from the world himself.

One step at a time.

-In the morning-

"___, ___e up!"

A warped whisper coiled through the chilly air like an immaterial tendril extending in her direction. It was distant, yet it sounded like a whisper directly into her ear.

Nimue's form stirred in her bed. The uneasiness creeping up her body stirred every last cell, showering her skin with goosebumps. Her hands clutched the duvet, her fingers clenching and releasing in rhythm with her heartbeat. Her breathing was quickened. Her mind raced across its own expanse, trying to escape something. She was ****. She needed to get away.

It was cold. A sensation of unnatural frigid crept up the elf's body like it had a mind of its own, binding her down. It felt like a dozen heavy chains, each connected to an impossible weight she could never dream of lifting. Yet, at the same time... it appeared to pulse with an unknown yet latent power, potent and almost reachable.

"____ven, wake up!"

Nimue's eyes opened slowly. Her green eyes glistened, looking at the ceiling above. Several seconds passed as she calmed down. She swallowed dry saliva lingering in her mouth before turning on her side.

'...a nightmare...' she pondered briefly, bringing up her hand.

A sense of repulse welled up in her stomach, like a surge of reflux that threatened to **** its way out. Nimue tensed up, feeling a constricting feeling rise in her lungs as well.

*Cough cough!*

A raw, **** gasp left her throat, which Nimue instinctively tried to block with her hand. As she calmed down, she inspected her skin again. With a sigh of relief, she noticed that nothing but air had left her lungs.

She shuffled in her position, feeling the bed's coverings under her move, their wrinkles pressing against her in many places. A short yawn escaped Nimue's mouth, but she was hardly tired, even despite staying up late during the night.

Nimue never had much need for sleep. She was a person who had an outstanding recovery speed, be it from tiredness or illness. That was why she could easily take on jobs that required staying up until very late. In the old times, when Iwo Stormrider was the lord of this manor, she would often accompany him to the library. It was a safe haven for them, where they would spend entire nights reading. The bright atmosphere, filled with the scent of innumerable parchments, created perfect conditions for their solitary activities. He'd help her learn Siles, give her interesting lectures on any topic she asked, and cater to her like she was his daughter. Nimue could still remember the man's violet eyes staring at her gently as she basked in the midsummer sun cast through the large windows, listening with care to his teachings. Later, they would stargaze, sometimes even to the point where the sky's brightest star appeared again.

A faint smile tugged at her lips, her imagination drifting to the man's gentle gaze. It was that gaze, and that behavior, that allowed her to give others a second chance. Despite his position, he was never a person to discriminate or use her. Rather, he did everything he could to make her feel welcome, no matter her past or identity. And, no matter how many years have passed, she would never stop feeling grateful for that.

He gave her a new home. And this time, it was a real one.

Doing her best to clear her head off the unpleasant remnants of whatever her mind had shown her in her dreams, the black-haired elf uncovered her nude body from underneath the duvet. Standing up, she immediately grabbed some undergarments. With a quick motion, her panties were donned, and a bit of fiddling later, so was her bra. Both were in a rather plain, beige color and simple design. Nimue took a short moment to weigh her breasts, feeling their mass shifting in her palms. A glint of an electrifying sensation traveled up her skin, making her heart throb. A faint outline of her nipples became pronounced in the material before she let them go, letting their springy mass jiggle a little.

The black-haired woman stepped closer to her drawer. Her maid outfit was sprawled on the wardrobe door, covering its mirror. Its black and white lines had clearly seen better days, some wrinkles visible in a few areas. Tracing the imperfections with a finger, its soon-to-be wearer pondered.

'I'll have to iron it later.' she nodded at the thought. Then, she grimaced. She'd have done that activity yesterday, if not for what had happened. '...stupid brat.' she thought with contempt, the memory of the Liveren Princess surging in front of her eyes. It flared like an ember exploding into an open flame. Just the thought of that green-haired woman meeting with Lucas filled her with sourness.

She turned, grabbing a hairbrush from the dresser. Beginning to do her hair slowly, Nimue grabbed her outfit, quickly tossing it onto her bed.

However, her motion suddenly stopped as her eyes met her reflection. The brush fell with a clatter to the ground.

Her breath hitched as though the mirror had stolen it away. Her gaze darted across the reflection, searching for familiarity but finding a stranger staring back. A sense of dread went down her spine, cascading like a frozen river. All of that was caused by her eyes.

The right one was the regular, earthy green she knew and was used to. However, the left one was different. It was a change that was imperceptible unless sought out, but Nimue knew herself too well. She saw her reflection daily and knew every nook and crevice. Therefore, the slight glimmer at the edge of the left eye was impossible to miss. It was like lightning before the storm, shimmering in the distance yet foreboding what was to come.

Her heart pulsed. The pained, powerful beat sent a wave of pressure through her entire body, making her forget to breathe.

"=...n-no...=" she whispered, barely audible. She knew the origin of that haunting glint, and she wished for it to disappear. Her hand rose shakily to cover the offending eye as if hiding it could erase the change. "=Go away...=" she almost pleaded, doing her best to not panic. She stepped backward, almost stumbling as she touched the table behind her.

She could feel it. The elusive and distant presence felt distant, but its embrace was palpable even if the whole world separated it from her, like a part of her that could never be severed. She sensed its power encroach slowly, like immaterial tendrils of influence that tried to sway her mind. It was urging her to call for it, to use the power it gave her. It demanded... freedom.

A hand still clutched to her face, Nimue immediately dropped to her knees, her other limb opening the drawer in the dresser. Her vision went blurry, almost as if her eyes stopped responding to her. She frantically searched for the box in the far corner, bringing out a bottle of red liquid. She uncorked it, downing its contents before hurling the empty vessel aside, her own strength unchecked. The crash of glass barely registered through the storm raging in her mind.

"=Calm down, calm down... calmdowncalmdown...=" she whispered to herself, doing her best to stop the trembling of her hands. "=You can control it, control it... you can control it, D--!=" suddenly, she stopped, her tongue tied up. "=...Nimue. You're Nimue. You can control it, Nimue... breathe... breathe...=" she continued, doing her best to not let her mind astray.

Slowly, she felt the presence become distant. Like melting snow, its influence thawed, giving way to emptiness.

Her body caught up with the turmoil after a few seconds. A nauseating sensation stirred in Nimue's guts like her stomach was about to be wrought inside out. Her fingers were stiff, and she could barely feel her lower body. Her muscles twitched unsteadily in several spots as though small electrical currents surged within them.

"Haaah..." Nimue breathed heavily. She felt a searing-hot sensation go down her nose before dripping to the floor, the tear that escaped her eye splashing against the floor.

It took her nearly a minute to finally wake from her half-conscious state. Slowly, Nimue's hands curled into fists against the floor, her nails scraping the wooden boards roughly. She inhaled, then exhaled. The painful sensation within her heart throbbed. It wasn't nearly as bad as yesterday during her confrontation with the Liveren Princess, but it was unpleasant nonetheless.

Shakily, Nimue raised on her knees. Her gaze slowly ascended the wardrobe, eventually making it to the mirror. She sighed with relief, seeing that her reflection stared back at her as it had always done. She fixed the straps of her bra and the high line of her panties, breathing heavily as though to expulse all negativity within.

Yet, a sense of anger stirred, fueled by the remembrance of her talk with Seraphina. She grabbed the brush on the ground, clenching her hand around it with ****.

*CRACK!*

"?" Nimue's brow raised, her eyes darting to her right hand. As she revealed her palm, she noticed that the hairbrush's handle was torn from its head, its uncountable splinters lay in her hand, **** apart by sheer pressure she pressed with. Their surface seemed vaguely covered with a whiteish, almost powder-like substance that immediately thawed. "*Sigh* Calm down, Nimue," she quietly berated herself. "It's just a few more days. They'll go away in a few days. You can endure this much."

Still kneeling, Nimue grabbed the brush's head and started doing her hair.

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