Chương 148: Chapter 10: The Lucky Fool

Selena took a deep breath. Her noble blood was cast aside to be what she had always been: a hardened survivor. It was the trembling inhalation of someone about to bare a still-festering wound. Mentally, she stripped away the final layer of the serious mask she had worn as armor before the King, before the courtiers, and even before Maya. Here, in the dusty chaos of Valerian's tower, in front of a man who, in his own twisted way, showed genuine concern, she could afford the luxury of being fragile.

—We reached that desert —she began, her voice a rough thread. —The Dungeon of Eternal Life. The name… She paused, swallowing hard. —The name is the most accurate I have ever heard in my life. A perfect, painful truth. A sigh escaped her lips, and then the tears, contained for so long, began to flow. They were stripped of drama, silent, steady stream tracing clean paths through the dust on her face. —It was a massacre —she continued, the words coming in fits and starts. —But not a swift one. Not glorious.

It was a slow massacre, a dissolution drop by drop. At first, when we entered, everything was strange. Disquieting, but… manageable. Books with maws that recited poetry. Decapitated soldiers murmuring the anguishes of wars from four thousand years ago. Severed arms crawling across the floor to catch us. Chests that, upon opening, flooded you with borrowed emotions: hunger, anguish, pure euphoria. Shadows repeating waking and sleeping routines from millennia past. The blood…

the entire floor was a layer of pulsating blood. As if it had a heart. She shuddered, the visceral memory making her close her eyes for an instant. —But that —she continued, opening them again, her gaze lost in the clutter of the room— was only the first two floors. The safe floors, if that word has any meaning there. When we finally reached the cave, the original wound that Eliud's tower attempted to contain… everything changed. She paused, searching for words to describe the unspeakable. —First came the voices.

They didn't come from anywhere. They were born inside your skull. They whispered, over and over:'One more… There is always more… I need more…' A chorus of infinite avarice. Then… Astrid. Her voice cracked as she named her, as if a frozen glass had finally given way. —She began to behave erratically. She scratched her leg desperately until she drew blood. I followed protocol and reported it. Magnor healed her, but it was only physical. The madness… the madness of the place nearly claimed her soul right then.

She fell silent, remembering the glassy, lost eyes of the blonde mage. —We pressed on —she proceeded, her voice growing slightly firmer, as if recounting the facts anchored her. —We fought a… thing. A flat, circular shadow that extended whip-like appendages to drink our blood. I eliminated it… with this. She raised her left hand, displaying the simple bronze ring on her index finger. The light caught it, making it gleam faintly. The tears were flowing faster now. —Then came the most subtle attack.

Lines of light and color that merged and struck us… Not our bodies, but our minds. They showed us memories. Our own. Pain, fear… and happiness. Happiness is so cruel because it no longer exists. Despite those memories being overwhelmingly strong, we managed to escape. Astrid and I were displaced to the same part of the labyrinth, and we made our way back, reuniting with the others. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, smudging them with dust and salt. —Once we were together, Alistair…

—his name weighed heavy in her throat, but she swallowed and pushed through— Mentioned a wall. A wall half-submerged under the water, covered in carvings. He led us to a chamber with a black lake. There, carved into the stone, was a secret. A cult. They worshipped a dagger and were searching for it. They are looking for it, Valerian. For all eternity.

'We shall seek it everywhere' it said. She paused, letting the implication of those words, their connection to the Omnipresent Shadow resonate in the air between them. —We moved forward —she continued, her tone dropping to a horror-laden whisper— to a circular room. There… was Aelthra, or something that used her image. A corruption wrought by the dungeon, so perfect, so… benevolent in appearance. It offered Alistair a drink of its water. And he… Selena closed her eyes, as if she could block out the image.

—He accepted it. With the purest, most fanatical religious fervor I have ever seen. He drank it, and then… he liquefied. His skin, his muscles, everything melted and flowed onto the floor. Until only his skeleton remained. Clean, gleaming. And that skeleton knelt in a corner, beginning to repeat, forever, a prayer to the deity that had consumed him. Valerian, who had been listening with an unnatural stillness, trembled.

It was not a large shudder, but a fine, deep tremor that ran through his hands and reflected in the slight tightening of his clenched jaw. His face had lost all color. —But that —Selena whispered, opening her eyes, which now reflected absolute emptiness— was not the worst of it. She took a sharp, ragged breath. —Further on, after Astrid saved us from another certain fight against more shadows… she began to act strangely again. Then… it happened. Her skin literally turned inside out.

It peeled back, exposing the flesh beneath, and that flesh twisted and transformed. Until she… until what had been Astrid ended up turned into a pulsating mass of purplish meat. From that mass, a voice, an echo of her own, kept repeating:'Why are you looking at me like that?' Selena's tears were silent now, a river of grief. —It extended two bone appendages, sharp as spears, before we could react. And I… I lost an eye.

She paused, the memory of the sharp, annihilating physical pain causing her to bring a hand to her sound eye, as if to reassure herself it was still there. —Magnor was left without half a foot. I used the spoken echo; I flooded the area where the creature stood, and then I froze the water, encasing it. I immediately healed Magnor, I repaired his foot. But… the creature had already escaped. And in its flight, with a final burst of rage… it severed my leg. Completely. From the thigh down.

Her voice was a flat whisper, as though she were recounting something that had happened to someone else. Yet, her hand went straight to her thigh, gripping it tightly, digging her fingers into it. —I was bleeding out. I tried to heal myself with the written touch, but I only managed to stop the hemorrhage and close the stump. I couldn't regenerate it. Then, her expression darkened with the most painful memory. —When I looked at Magnor… it was already too late. The creature had caught him. It had merged with him.

It had invaded his body; you could see its black veins moving beneath his skin. He… A sob cut off her words, but she forced it down. —In the midst of that agony, he healed me. With his echo, he gave me back my leg and my eye. Not perfect thinner, weaker, but functional. Then, with his last spark of lucidity, he screamed at me. He screamed with all the strength in his lungs:'Run!' If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. Selena fell silent.

The quiet in the Office of Chaos was absolute, denser than the dust and the clutter. She began to shake her head, the word "run" echoing fiercely, but something kept her anchored. —And I did —she murmured at last, her voice barely breathed. —I ran, and when I thought I was far enough away… an explosion. The light came first; it carried no sound. It was a white, golden light, like a dawn breaking from the bowels of the earth. Then the heat dry, purifying heat that consumed everything.

I knew it instantly; it had been him. His final spell. The Purified, purifying himself and her along with him, in a fire that left no trace. She finished. The words, like the last remnants of a torn veil, hung in the air. Selena remained staring at Valerian, her green eyes washed clean by tears, waiting for his reaction, his judgment, his… anything that could give meaning to the butchery she had just unspooled in the dusty quiet of his tower. Valerian looked at her.

His eyes held neither pity nor horror, they reflected nothing of the sort, and yet it was a heavy gaze, laden with a somber, ancient understanding, that of one who knows the bloody gears of the machinery in which they are trapped. When he spoke, his voice had lost all trace of his jester affectation. It was flat and dry, like a blade used too many times. —All for an artifact —he said, the words falling like stones into a dry well. —All for power. That is what we resonants are, Selena. Tools of deterrence.

Hammers to drive fear into the hearts of rival kingdoms, keys to open doors that would have been better left closed. His gaze drifted from her, fixing on some point between the dust and memory. —But artifact is always preferred. The artifact has no opinions, no desires, it does not dream, and it does not weep. It does not turn into a mass of flesh asking why people look at it. It is a cursed destiny. I told you so in that first class, with theatricality, of course. But the warning was always real.

He passed a hand over his face, a gesture of exhaustion that seemed to drag centuries of bitter knowledge with it. Then, as if an invisible switch had been flipped, his shoulders straightened and a spark of his old theatrical energy reignited in his eyes. However, the jester's mask now seemed thinner, more transparent, as though the truth just told had eroded part of its substance. —I was also told —he said, adopting a conspiratorial, gossiping tone— that our dear Crimson had attacked Cassian in the desert.

With green fire, no less. I know it is not as they paint it. I divine it. You are far too… bloodthirsty for a direct and simple assassination. A mocking smile, though devoid of true joy, drew itself upon his lips. —Surely, with your peculiar intentional ignorance and that perception of the Void that makes you so interesting, you were able to feel, or intuit, what the only permanent resonant of the court possesses at his side. Or rather, what possesses him.

Selena interrupted him, her voice still hoarse from weeping but now tinged with cold, precise anger. —The pact with the creature of the Echo —she said, cutting through Valerian's rhetorical flourish. The jester pulled a face of annoyance, but he listened to her without replying. —The King informed me. There is no need for you to be so theatrical this time. Yes, the fool lost a few emotions in exchange for… whatever it is he got.

She paused, clearing her throat, and when she continued, her tone was that of a verdict. —But not even Eliud, the first king, became so… oblivious when making a pact. So empty inside. She spat the words with a hint of restrained rage. —I hated him. I hated him when he said we had failed. As if Magnor, Astrid, and Alistair were pieces of a broken game. That thing… I felt it, it was watching me. I felt its eyes resting on my body, on my back, like a wet, invisible weight.

I burned it with my fire, the fire from my eyes, but it didn't leave. It only twisted in the air. So, I sought to see it once and for all. I froze the air around it; I brought the temperature down until winter itself would have wept. The frost fell upon… upon nothing. Upon the shape of it. But even then, it didn't look right. Just a patch of ice floating where there should be nothing. Her breathing grew more agitated, the memory of the frustration and disgust renewing itself. —Cassian…

the coward wouldn't stop shaking, shaking like a leaf. The typical ignorant who doesn't know what real fear is. The true terror that breathes within the walls of that damned dungeon, that creeps into your eyes and steals your sanity. He was only trembling because of a specter that owed him favors. Pathetic. Valerian, at first, seemed slightly derailed by the abrupt interruption, a frown creasing his brow. But as Selena spoke, with such a visceral and specific contempt toward Cassian, his expression shifted.

Surprise mingled with a hint of genuine, almost academic curiosity. When Selena finished, he kept silent for a moment, letting the echo of her anger dissipate in the dusty air. Then, he spoke. And this time, it was neither the jester nor the dramatic mage. It was Valerian the man, the scholar, speaking in a surprisingly ordinary voice, entirely devoid of affectation. —Eliud does not name it in his book, The Imaginary and the Understanding of the Echo.

He does not speak of failed pacts or absurd prices, but even though he made a pact and survived to tell the tale… there is a truth that many forget. He leaned forward a bit, his silver eyes locking onto Selena's. —The creatures of the Void, when summoned, are under no obligation to pact. They are not obliged to offer you a fair exchange. They are not even obliged to answer. Many powerful and cautious resonants die on the spot.

Solely for the whimsical pleasure, the inexplicable caprice of the entity they have called. He paused, letting the weight of that mortal lottery settle. —Why do you think neither Isolde nor I possess such a companion to this day? It is not for a lack of power, or ambition. It is for a lack of reckless stupidity, or a deep enough desperation. The question hung suspended in the air, a silent indictment against Cassian's choice.

Selena nodded slowly, her green eyes reflecting the cruel logic of what Valerian was saying. —I know they have no form —she murmured. —That they are invisible, that not even the body's most primal instincts can perceive them… But Cassian's… it makes me want to vomit. That he happens to be a lucky fool within the misfortune that is already being a resonant… does not absolve him. Her hand, which had been resting relaxed on the sill, snapped into a fist.

Her knuckles turned white beneath the skin, the tension of her entire body concentrated in that fist. —It does not absolve him from letting his filthy mouth denigrate my companions. Those who had no luck. Those who paid the full price. —The madness —Valerian brought the conversation back to him. —He is the key. Of his pact. What he received in return… is a unique magic. It is not the common understanding of the nature of material things; it is one far beyond the reach of any sane being. It is the magic of madness.

Of sowing delusions in any mind. Of twisting perception until reality shatters. He sighed, a heavy sound. —I do not know what exactly he paid. What emotions he surrendered, what memories he sacrificed, what kind of blood he promised. I only know that, since then, Cassian the Madness sees the world through a prism we cannot, and his capacity for empathy… evaporated. He crossed his arms, then looked at Selena, giving her the floor.

—Perhaps that is why he is a coward —Selena emphasized, with bitterness she did not hide—They took his empathy and, with it, his courage to feel the pain of others. She sighed deeply, as if trying to expel the taste of betrayal. —Or perhaps they merely stole his power to hold his tongue when it hurts. The jester, however, adopted a restrained expression, almost of pity. —I am sorry, Crimson. Truly. But those… are state secrets. Secrets that even I only glimpse through cracks.

Valerian passed a hand over his face, and when he lowered it, the jester's mask had returned, though now both seemed to blur, that of the man and that of the buffoon. —What I do know is that you must resume your studies of the void. Your ignorance, though brave, is already shameless. Attacking creatures, you do not understand with green fire and pure will is… like launching arrows into the air hoping they won't hit you. Tomorrow, we will fix it. Come to the Hourglass in the Atrium of Knowledge at dawn.

If you are late… He made a dramatic pause, measuring the effect of his joke on Selena's still-reddened eyes. —I will have you sent to a dungeon again. A real one, not one of those tourist excursions. Selena, against all odds, smiled. It was a one-sided smile, crooked and tired, but genuine. —Very well, jester —she said, and in saying it, she seemed to release the last residual tension of her anger. Valerian merely grinned from ear to ear, practiced grin, so poor that no one would believe it.

Selena added with regret: —But remember… your hands are not clean of blood either, red resonant. It was a warning, a reminder that Valerian was also a dark killer with stained hands. Valerian nodded, without responding directly. Then, he suddenly raised his voice, shouting toward the closed door: —MAYA! The door opened a few seconds later, revealing the alchemist, who seemed to have been waiting right outside, perhaps catching fragments of the conversation.

—I regret to inform you —Valerian said with mock solemnity— that the loan of the book has ended. The price for having pawed at it with your curious eyes will be… to take Crimson far away from here. Her hands, forged in iron and covered in bloody histories, do not allow me to concentrate on counting the clouds passing by the window. It is a task of vital importance for the greater magic I am developing. One that… allows one to change the weather! He lied brazenly, a spark of his old humor returning to his eyes.

Maya, relieved that the tension had broken, smiled and nodded. Selena rose from the windowsill, her muscles protesting the prolonged stillness. Without another word, the two women left the Office of Chaos, leaving Valerian alone among his towers of parchments and the echo of Selena's confessions. The rest of the day slipped smoothly away, like oil over calm water. When Selena reached her room in the Cloister of the Forest, the weight of the words of the story she never wanted to remember again crushed her.

She changed her clothes mechanically, putting on her light nightgown. Then, against her own expectations, she slept. Not light, vigilant sleep, but a deep, heavy slumber, like that of a baby cradled against its mother's chest primordial rest that her body and mind had been screaming for after months of keeping watch against the horror.