Chương 20: Twin Anchors

A boon? Anadis's eyes widened with awe. Then he sat up, the water running through his legs, curious, maybe a little apprehensive about what the Boon was.

"What got you looking so dumbfounded?" Hel asked, arms crossed.

"I-I got a Boon," he whispered.

"Oh?" One of her little white eyebrows arched slowly.

"Congratulations. But before you get too excited…" She wagged a finger, pointing at his shoulder where blood was still trickling down.

"Oh, right," Anadis said, suppressing the urge to slap his forehead. Real impressive self-preservation instincts there.

"Your body has already become that of a Blessen. An injury with this much blood loss could have been fatal for a mundane person," Hel explained magisterially, her dignified poise unbroken despite her tiny fluttering wings.

"Still, you mustn't ignore such an injury. Lose enough blood, and even your Blessen body won't be able to repair itself. Drink one of the potions. It will help you recover even faster." After cleaning his wound with water from the creek and patching it with a roll of cloth from his satchel, Anadis drank the bluish, swirling shard dust potion. It tasted sour and acidic, like squeezing a lime into his mouth. Then he turned his attention back to his newly acquired Boon.

He focused hard, trying to summon it, and two small anchors appeared in his right palm. He tilted his head in confusion.

"What are these?"

"Listen to their description," Hel said wryly. Concentrating once more, he called upon the Divine Voice, and it responded: [Twin Anchors] ✧ Boon: A red and blue pair of finger-sized iron anchors connected by chains. Type: Utility Rarity: Rare Effect: Travel near-instantly between Twin Anchors. Place the Red anchor, then pull its chain twice to set Home. Do the same with the Blue anchor to set a Return. Hold the active anchor and pull once to teleport to the other. Range is a 100-mile radius, with two uses per day.

Anadis reeled back in shock when he heard the Boon's rank: Rare. Not every Grull kill granted a Boon, so receiving a Rare one on his very first kill as a Blessen was far more than most could ever hope for. Even better was what it could do. One hundred miles was enough to cover all of Aura Cay and well beyond. He didn't know exactly how he would use it yet, but the mere thought of being able to travel such a vast distance almost instantly filled him with excitement. Although… why had he received such a strange Boon?

Shouldn't it have been somehow similar to the Grull he killed?

"Are you going to keep grinning like a fool?" Hel asked, staring at him with utter disappointment.

"Or are you going to tell me what it does?" For the next few moments, Anadis held both anchors and explained to Hel what his newest addition to his arsenal could do. She seemed rather unsurprised—the complete opposite of his own reaction. But then again, she had once been a goddess. She probably thought that anything below the Legendary tier was beneath her.

"I can see its uses, but it's nothing to sing praises over," Hel said, still studying the anchors intently.

"Based on what I remember, a Boon need not bear any resemblance to the Grull you killed. As the name implies, it is a Boon bestowed by the gods, not something dropped by the Grull." She glanced toward the forest.

"Regardless, we should move. Your fight with that Abominant may have drawn other Grulls, and we still have a Key to find." Anadis grunted in agreement and stood up, water dripping from his soaked clothes. He couldn't wait to try out the anchors, but he knew this was neither the place nor the time. Why would he plant the red anchor in Unhallowed territory? Only if he wanted to die, perhaps. Suddenly, Hel darted upward and flew straight toward the Grull's carcass.

Anadis watched, stunned, as she slipped inside through one of the many stab wounds he had inflicted. What is she doing? A few moments later, she burst back out of the corpse, drenched in thick green fluids. She shook wet strands of hair from her face and clutched something small and glistening that looked comically oversized in her tiny hands.

"Here you go," she called, hurling the Grullshard at him.

"Save this. We're going to need tons of them if we want to make you stronger." He caught it and immediately wished he hadn't. The Grullshard was just as grimy as Hel was. He turned to her with a disgusted look.

"You know, if I were back to my complete self, I would have you killed for that look," she threatened, narrowing her eyes into slits.

"Well…" Anadis swallowed.

"You have something… everywhere." He gestured at her entire body with a wiggle of his finger.

"You should probably clean yourself off." Anadis struggled to understand how Hel could be so unbothered by the disgusting grime covering her. Nora would have screamed at the mere thought of anything insect-like touching her. Aelia wouldn't scream, but she would certainly be revolted. Yet Hel… simply didn't care. Perhaps she was more like Grandma Anna. No matter how hard he tried, Anadis couldn't recall a single instance where Grandma had ever looked disgusted, afraid, or somehow uncomposed.

She was the epitome of stoicism. This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"I'll just preen myself," Hel said with a sigh. She exploded in a blinding flash of white light. In an instant, she was pristine again, the radiance having incinerated every speck of grime.

"You did the same thing during the fight when my vision was blurred, right?"

"Yes. Don't get used to it though," she replied.

"It is shameful that I had to assist you against such a weak Abominante, especially when you have my Blessing. You should be slaying these things easily by now."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, goddess," Anadis waved her off. She might act like she didn't care, but she helped when it counted… Well, perhaps it was because if he died, she died too. Anadis stared at the Grullshard and stared at it. This was his first time seeing one outside the Blessed Trial, and it looked completely different from the one he had received there. He indulged in its beauty for a moment—yes, despite knowing the shard's dark origin, he found it surreally beautiful.

Inside its quartz crystal was a smoky swirl of mahogany-obsidian dust. Faint red mist pulsed within its cracks as though it were a dying coal. After pocketing it, Anadis began walking downstream, following the pull in his head. As he trudged through the bottom of the dark chasm, the full realization of where he was heading and exactly what he was about to do finally hit him. Now that he thought about it, he had never really stopped to consider the whole ordeal.

After all, how was he even supposed to feel about something like that? With a hand on his chin and a deepening frown, Anadis began to mull over the possibilities. He had spent thirteen years being Anadis Kalonis. He knew exactly who that was—what he liked, what he hated, what made him angry, and what made him laugh. Most importantly, he was the one who knew each member of his family—not whoever's memories he was holding.

The comforting aroma of Mother's cooking, the roughness of Father's hands when he guided Anadis's sword, Grandmother's stern demeanor, and the distinct ways each of his siblings would behave. All of that, every memory, every habit, every feeling was what made him him. And all of it was real. But if there were memories inside him that didn't belong to his life; if there were names, places, and people he had never known, then what did that mean?

Were they simply passive fragments, like new information absorbed from a book? Like dusty volumes sitting on a shelf in a room he had never entered? Or were they something else… something dangerous that could forever change what and who he was? He mused over the question, turning it over slowly in his mind the way he had turned the Grullshard in his hand moments ago.

"Stop!" Hel's voice warned sharply in his head.

"There's a Grull just up ahead." Anadis held his breath and crouched low, with his eyes locked ahead as the irony hit him like a bucket of cold water first thing in the morning. There he was, wandering through a forest teeming with Abominant and Unhallowed Grull that could kill him in a second if he made a single mistake. Yet, all he could think about was that he might be carrying someone else's memories, and that that someone could possibly take over his head.

Hel's revelation had left a deeper mark on him than he wanted to admit. What did she have to open her mouth and put such a predicament on my head? He sighed warily and stood up as the Grull left. A couple of minutes later, the coast was clear, and they continued onward along the creek's edge. Well, Anadis trudged forward while Hel flew gracefully above him. The forest felt quieter than ever, the silence growing heavier as the pounding in his head intensified.

"We're close," Hel said, her voice low but edged with tension. His heart hammered against his ribs, its rhythm syncing with the pulse in his skull. Leander… That was the name from his nightmares—the person whose memories supposedly resided inside him. A part of him desperately wanted to know who this Leander was. And why, of all people, had Anadis been chosen to carry his memories? Was Leander some legendary Blessen? Someone so important that his memories had to be preserved even after death?

Probably not, knowing my luck. He had no answers. He wasn't even sure he wanted them yet. But what if that other person tried to take over his body, the same way Hel had attempted with his twin? Breaking stride, he gave Hel a sidelong glance. Hel zipped ahead for two seconds before halting and glancing back over her shoulder, silver hair partially covering her face.

"Why are you stopping?"

"Are you telling the truth?" he asked, surprised at how steady his voice sounded. Her face twisted into a scowl at the sudden question. Silence stretched between them as they stared at each other.

"Haven't your nightmares provided enough proof of that?"

"That's not what I'm asking," he said.

"The memories—fine, I believe you. What I want to know is whether they can take over. Whether whoever Leander is can push me out the way you tried to push Albus out." Anadis looked into Hel's eyes with probing intensity. Her intentions had never exactly been a secret, so it was only reasonable to question whether she truly wished him well… or if this was all an elaborate plan to eliminate him and give the word vessel its true meaning. Hel held his gaze, and Anadis held hers.

Despite her tiny size and deceptively wholesome appearance, her eyes carried a heavy, piercing weight. She parted her lips and, after a pause that felt too long, said, "No." Anadis searched her face, but found only unbreakable austerity.

"A soul cannot simply be transferred into a body," she continued.

"Soul Transfer requires intent, careful preparation, and enormous power. Memories possess none of those things. They are merely residue, not will." She drew in a slow, deep breath.

"Only I, Helphrena, Goddess of Souls, can perform Soul Transfer, and even I failed." For the briefest moment, Hel's expression twisted with something sour. Anadis got the uncomfortable sense she hated being reminded of that day. The truth was undeniable. She had failed. Albus was still himself, still alive, and it was all because of him that her plans had crumbled that day.

"That's reassuring," he said after a moment.

"It should be." Then, ending the topic, Hel zipped ahead and shouted, "If you're satisfied and done with your paranoia—it's just up ahead. Keep up." With trepidation, he followed suit. Hel darted ahead erratically, as if unsure of the exact path. Golden-violet motes sparkled around her before fading away a second later. Then she vanished as well, phasing straight through the chasm wall.

"Hel…?" Anadis muttered, eyes fixed on the spot where her glow had faded. A heartbeat later, her voice echoed in his mind.

"Use Soul Sight." Frowning, he activated it. A hidden crevice appeared before his eyes, and around its edges were runes, but the runes weren't hidden; he just hadn't noticed them because of how weathered they were by time. These runes were visible to the naked eye, carved deep into the rock face, visible enough that any passerby who might focus would notice and could examine them.

But Soul Sight revealed what ordinary eyes could not: a second layer of far more intricate runes overlaid on the first, shimmering faintly with old, tired power that was slowly stirring back to life.

"What the…?"

"Stop staring and come in."

"Okay…" Anadis stepped forward cautiously. The moment he crossed the threshold, the pounding stopped. Not gradually—all at once, like a held breath finally blown out. He hadn't realized how constant it had become until it was simply… gone. The only sound was the gentle splash of water disturbed by his precarious steps.

"How come I had to use Soul Sight to see the entrance?"

"I etched those runes so only the outer ones are visible to anyone," she said, her voice echoing through the tunnel.

"Blessens, Attuners, historians, any of them could find this place and spend a lifetime trying to decode what they see. But the inner runes govern the seal itself. They respond to my soul essence—or anyone carrying it—and open on their own when I draw near." A pause.

"The seal stays open for a short window after I pass through. Then it closes on its own."

"What? I thought rune etching was something only Attuners could do."

"Who sold you that lie?" The entire society sold me that lie, he thought, but before he could give an answer, he finally saw the end of the tunnel as it gave way to— A graveyard was the first thought that came to mind, a burial ground of lost pillars from a temple that had once stood proud, now carved by time and forgotten by the twin suns. High above, a jagged hole in the earth's crust allowed a single ghostly beam of daylight to pierce the gloom.

It illuminated the skeletal remains of the ruined white-stone temple, its arches slumped in defeat, and its pillars cracked like old bones. Serpentine roots dangled from the ceiling like hanging nooses, reaching down toward the crumbling masonry as if trying to keep the last towers from collapsing. A thin ribbon of water tumbled from the ceiling, splashing against the rocks below with a rhythmic, hollow patter that only emphasized the cave's profound silence.

Hel drifted closer, her wings fluttering a touch faster than usual. With a note of reverence in her voice, she declared, "Welcome to my and only Grand Hall of Eljudnir, or as I prefer to call it, Misery."