“Nero. Wake up, Nero,”
said a voice.
It was a woman’s voice, neither young nor old. It sounded intense, and distant.
Nero blinked. His body
felt heavy, as if he’d been through hours of exhausting physical training. He
was disoriented, and since there wasn’t much light, his eyes struggled to focus
and adjust to the dimness.
He was in a library.
Books overflowed from
the shelves. There were piles of them everywhere, growing from the floor or
from corner shelves, leaning against the walls. Some were scattered carelessly.
Others rested on lecterns, isolated from all the rest. Those were the strangest
ones, for over each danced a quill, leaving a trail of black ink across white
or yellowed pages, with no hand to hold it and no inkwell to draw from.
“I must be dreaming”, thought
Nero. But his words echoed through the hall as if he’d spoken them aloud.
—That’s right —said
the same voice, from somewhere high above—. This is a dream, Nero. And we don’t
have much time.
—Who are you?—said
Nero, looking up. But, since it was a dream, his world twisted, and he couldn’t
make out his interlocutor. All he could see were books, endless books.
—I am Sch…—the woman’s
voice faded into the air. The books began to tumble down on him, burying him
beneath layer after layer of paper.
Nero sat up, sweating.
He was back in his room, in his bed. The light coming through the window was
dull and pale, as if it somehow knew he’d just had a nightmare. He buried his
face in his hands and wiped the sweat off with the sheets.
—I don’t know who you
are, but stop showing up in my dreams —he said, raising his voice—. Please.
Really, enough already.
But no one answered.
-----
Nero had decided to return to his mother’s house, in the castle city, even though he knew she probably wouldn’t be there. He managed to stay for two full days within the four walls of what had once been his house, though never his home. But on the third day, feeling loneliness claw at him, he returned to his room at the academy.
And so, the days
passed, until ten had gone by since Nero had met Flute. The spirit maiden still
couldn’t understand how she had arrived there, or, even less, how her
appearance was connected to Hollow’s murder.
Nero, however, had
learned to live with it. Yet he couldn’t process the story she had told him. He
had too many things on his mind, including finding something that could make
sense of his now-recurring dream of the library. He visited that place in his
dreams night after night, but the dream always ended just as he began to speak
with the woman there, never managing to see her.
Unable to focus on
anything else, and since his recurring dream took place in a library, Nero
decided to investigate thoroughly in the library of Raven’s Order Academy,
searching for even the slightest mention of that mysterious place.
Every day, Nero
checked out between three and seven volumes from the academy’s library, brought
them to the lab, and studied them in depth. Caelth, after discovering Flute and
hearing her full story, had grown even more interested than Nero. For her, it was
a new way to experiment, a means of living experiences that would otherwise be
impossible to feel. Yet, even after searching through the oldest records, they
had found nothing about the library from his dreams or the other dimensions
Flute had mentioned.
—I’ve found more
volumes of the Chronicles of Yomidgard. They’re extremely interesting,
but they don’t contain what we’re looking for —said Caelth, dropping more books
onto the lab table—. Did you know that the immortal kings, Valgott and Ramoja,
were the first to make a pact with a demon?
Nero shook his head.
He knew what was coming: a new lecture from his friend about all the things
she’d learned reading those dusty old books. Though they weren’t what he was
searching for, Nero had found them just as fascinating as she did. The Chronicles
of Yomidgard had turned out to be an ancient encyclopedia that recorded
every event across both Axbryn and Kathora, the two continents separated by the
Sea of Blood of Yomidgard, the dimension they lived in.
Caelth went on to tell
him the tragic story of the first pacts. The kings of Axbryn’s greatest nations,
King Valgott and King Ramoja, had gained immortality through a pact with an
archdemon whose name the texts never revealed. The proclamation of their
eternal life unleashed a flood of demon pacts and the decline of faith in the
Goddess Velmar, who granted neither wishes nor special powers as the demons
did. But the archdemon’s deception was soon unveiled: the friends and relatives
of the newly immortal kings made pacts with the same entity, yet received
entirely different enhancements. Thus, over time, everyone King Valgott and
King Ramoja had ever loved grew old and died, while they remained eternally
frozen at their current age.
—So, what we learn is that immortality isn’t a gift, but a curse?—said Nero, looking up from the book he was reading.
—Something like that.
I don’t think there’s a moral to making a pact with a demon. You either do it,
or you don’t, that’s all. It requires the murder of someone you love. It’s not
exactly an altruistic act —said Caelth, shrugging—. And I can see you’re not
that interested.
—It’s… I’m sorry. I’m
obsessed with the idea of other dimensions —said Nero—. I can’t think about
anything else.
—Then maybe you’ll be
more interested to know that a group of self-proclaimed “heroes” assaulted
Yomidgard several thousand years ago. And they weren’t ordinary travelers, you
know?—said Caelth, tapping another book with her wand. It opened, and the pages
fanned out rapidly until stopping on one in particular, which she pointed to
with her finger—. These “assaulters” appeared in Kathora, on the other
continent, for no apparent reason, and helped end the tyranny of the Fallen
Angels in the Kathorian capital: the city-kingdom of Amadeus.
—Are any names
mentioned?—said Nero, leaning over the book.
—Not among the ones
we’re looking for, no. That would’ve been far too easy —said Caelth—. But it does mention certain people who
rebelled against the deity who created this dimension, and whose punishment was
separation, and that death itself would not claim them: Dante, Vergilius,
Orpheus, Eurydice… The book says some of them wander through Yomidgard as
echoes of a distant past.
—Someone rebelled against Goddess Velmar? —said Nero, surprised.
—That’s not the name of the deity mentioned here. It says they rebelled against
Satan, the original creator of this dimension —said Caelth, paraphrasing from
the book—. Obviously, this document is
considered apocryphal. I doubt Velmardia has any copies of it.
—This keeps getting stranger and stranger —said Nero, sighing—. Multiple timelines, false gods, dimensional
conquerors…
The story Flute had
told them sounded like fiction. She had spoken of a very ancient battle between
good and evil, though not all sides represented light or darkness, rather, an
amalgam of greys. She had told them about the villain, conqueror, and collector
of dimensions, Gill Lapis. She had also told them about the Time Spinning
Witch, a being of cosmic power who could not control her own abilities, and
who was, at the same time, one of the reincarnations of the goddess Kaguya.
There had been many more names, but Nero hadn’t remembered them all. Viola,
Alhama’at, Zero… too many characters in Flute’s confusing tale to recall them
all without faces to match.
The laboratory door
opened. A group of students entered, from different grades and classes. Ever
since Nero and Caelth had become Warlocks, other students tried to imitate
them, spending hours around the lab hoping some of that magic would rub off
just by being near real Warlocks. Nero and Caelth exchanged a glance and
sighed. It was the third group to show up that same day.
—Flute, don’t manifest
right now. Make yourself visible to us if you wish, but not to the others —said
Nero, speaking quietly.
The maiden appeared
before them, as small as Hollow had once been. Because of her incorporeal form,
Flute could change her size at will and ignore the laws of physics.
—I can’t believe
there’s no information about other dimensions anywhere. Isn’t this Yomidgard?
It’s one of the dimensions of the High Gods! —she said, fluttering around them.
—That makes sense to you, but not to us —said Nero, softly.
—Why not? —said Flute, surprised.
—You talk about different timelines, space-time altering magic, and other
dimensions: places we can’t go and have never seen. Your story defies all
logic, and every bit of public knowledge within the academy. Could you
summarize it again? I want to see if I missed something —said Caelth, resting
his chin on his interlaced fingers. He was fascinated by the idea of speaking
with someone who claimed to be thousands of years old without being a demon.
Flute told her story again. She spoke of how one of the reincarnations of the High Goddess Kaguya had absorbed her in order to control time, tear it apart, and later divide it. She spoke of how her memories had merged with Kaguya’s while they were fused, and of how she remembered the Time Spinning Witch. She also spoke of the four timelines: the original, the witch’s, the altered, and the paradoxical, and how all but the last had reached a time-ending event that caused them to vanish.
But Flute’s story
always stopped there. She didn’t know how she had reached Yomidgard, how her
essence had crossed timelines to return from some instant in the altered line
to the paradoxical one.
And yet, she knew one thing for certain: someone had to stop Gill Lapis. That
was the only point Flute had no doubts about.
—Wouldn’t he be dead
by now? Your story supposedly happened over 3,000 years ago —said Nero.
—It didn’t “supposedly” happen—it did happen. And even back then, he was
immortal, so I’m not surprised he’s still alive —said Flute.
—And you know that because you can feel his magic —said Caelth, meeting her
gaze.
Flute nodded.
—This world should have a massive seal—an arcane item protecting it from the
bearers of the Dragon Emperor’s magic… well, never mind that. The point is, I
can’t feel the seal’s magic, even though I can sense the remnants of its
existence. But what I can feel is Gill Lapis’s magic. And that means two
things —said Flute.
—That he’s alive —said Nero.
—And that we’re inside his collection, one way or another —said Caelth,
glancing at the ceiling—. Sorry, I still
find it hard to believe our entire world is inside a jar.
—Your dimension, not just your world. But otherwise, that’s correct. And
yes, Gill Lapis must be stopped —said Flute—. At all costs.
Nero and Caelth looked
at each other. They always reached the same point in the conversation: a dead
end. If their magic wasn’t strong enough to defeat certain demons, it was
impossible to face a villain with the power of a demigod.
—And there’s no one
else who could face this Gill Lapis? Someone qualified, maybe… from another
dimension? —said Caelth.
—If there were, they would’ve contacted me already —said Flute.
—Through telepathy? Dimensional magic? Postal mail? —said Caelth, with a smirk.
—Most likely through portals of some kind. Physical, magical, even through
dreams. There are many ways to contact someone using magic —said Flute,
ignoring his joke.
Nero stood up so
abruptly the chair toppled over. The students in the back whispered, but he
turned and gave them a cold glare that silenced them immediately. Then he
turned back to Flute, tense.
—Dreams? Like… a recurring dream, where someone’s trying to reach you but
can’t? —said Nero.
—It’s possible. But if that were the case, I would feel their magical imprint
on you and could warn you. No, I’m afraid no one’s reached out—to you or to me
—said Flute—. Which is why I have no
choice but to ask you two.
—Flute, we’re not the
right ones for this. We’re not heroes or heroines. We’re Warlocks of Raven’s
Order Academy. Our magic comes from death and from demons —said Caelth, raising
his wand and tracing a symbol in the air. Gasps echoed from the students seated
in the back—. This isn’t the kind of
magic you use to save dimensions or stop villains. This is… power. Nothing
more.
Flute looked at Nero, pleadingly. But his expression was as downcast as Caelth’s.
“Our magic comes from murdering someone we loved.” Nero thought. But he
didn’t say it aloud.
—I don’t think you’re
in the right place, Flute —said Nero, simply.
—Aren’t I? Then why, out of every possible place, did I end up here if not
because this is the right one? —said Flute, furious. The flasks around
her began to float and spin. Nero lifted his wand, pretending to be the source
of the magic.
—If I had to guess, I’d say time is trying to heal itself. Your existence is a
paradox within a paradox, and if we are, as you said, in the paradoxical
timeline, then it makes sense that the cosmic forces that created the
dimensions would draw time travelers back to their origin sooner or later —said
Caelth.
—That… sounds logical. Complicated, but logical —said Nero.
—Just came up with it. But “cosmic forces” does sound good, doesn’t it? —said
Caelth, smiling.
Flute stiffened. Wisps
of blue smoke rose from her body, swirling around her as she leapt and rolled
across the table, vanishing from sight.
—Gill Lapis is evil. And even if there are no heroines left in this timeline,
someone has to stand against him. I’ll find that someone, with or without your
help —said Flute, her voice echoing from somewhere unseen.
And then, silence.
