Chapter 44: Resonance
The dark-haired, bulky man in front of him staggered under his gaze. The words "who are you" escaped his lips like notes from a broken instrument. He looked truly frightened. Xiall shifted his eyes from the shaken man, whom he recalled from Wolfred's memories as Lysander. That was a fine name, Lysander. Whoever had chosen it had a better sense of naming than he did. He could not even name himself properly - had to borrow it from a burnt signpost. How pitiful. Or perhaps he should change it, maybe to something else... something classical..something not Xiall...but no matter how he tried his brain always black out..mire like no name existed within other than Xiall..and fact was his brain gad twice it's normal thinking prowess..yet still couldn't come up with a moniker..not all Problems can be solved..I guess..so utss still Xiall for now..and for better or worse.
He composed himself and clasped his hands. The air felt windy, yet he sensed none of it. Even his feet on the ground registered nothing. So this was what it felt like to be immersed in a memory - quite risky, was it not?
The sound of metal scraping from its scabbard echoed in his ears. He turned with a jolt.
The man - Lysander, that was his name - pointed his huge greatsword at him. Xiall noticed a slight tremble in his hands now and then. Seemed the Poor fellow was scared. Well, it was natural to feel that way. He heaved a sigh, then groaned silently. He had to diffuse the situation. They did not have much time before those walking, rotting corpses arrived - let us shorten it to his term: undead. That rolled smoothly off the tongue.
"I am not your enemy, and well, you may call me Xiall," he said blandly. Inwardly, he face-palmed. How on earth could someone who had just seen his companion transform into a different person - one who was oddly handsome, of course - not be spooked? He needed to correct that...atleast add a little symphaty or Empathy...
"Not your name, odd fellow," Lysander said. "I meant what are you? What happened to Wolfred?" he added, his eyes narrowing to a dangerous degree, a murderous glint in them. His sword held steady on him...
Xiall sighed.loooked like he meant business... A horde of walking corpses, who looked as if they had been starved for a year or like predators sighting their favorite prey, loomed right in front of them. Yet this fellow stood unfazed, pointing that oddly huge but sharp blade at him...such foolish bravery..at the most unsettling time..He had no time to explain, not even a second.
He sighed again. He was not here to watch this fellow's end... His sights were set only on Auria and Alwyn.
"Sorry, what was your name?" His hand rested on his chin, contemplating...his face brightened as it clicked... "Lysander, yes...Lysander..anyways,I just wanted to say this:.. I am sorry, Lysander," he added. his body began fading, like it was carried by the wind - like a dispersing mist as he spoke...
"For everything, I suppose. But for now, goodbye, friend." He added this as his body completely faded like mist, his smile vanishing with it.
Lysander,.... I shall certainly remember your name - that is, if I do not muddle it in my head. Names are hard to keep straight at times like this. At that moment, his consciousness traveled not through the veins of the fallen city of Eden, but through the scenes unraveling its destruction - the very scenes where Alwyn and Auria had died.
Every single detail changed before him, too fast for him to discern what was truly unfolding in each one. To pinpoint the near-exact moment was a gamble, much like what he had done with Wolfred. His hypothesis had been wrong all along. The deduction that both memories would battle each other out, and his consciousness would emerge victorious - it was all mistaken. His consciousness had been suppressed, almost rendered nonexistent. His persona scattered, existing as memory fragments within the persons of Alwyn and Auria. A fatal failure on his part. He became not a spectator as he had projected, yet he caught a glimpse of Alwyn's and Auria's personas - to see the world through their eyes and feel their raw human emotions. Drowning in it, the mere glimmer of what he saw threatened to drown the identity of Xiall. He existed as fragments, as proposed earlier, for the memories had merged. Perhaps due to the fact they had witnessed nearly the same endgames, though in different scenarios. It projected one thing: the end of Eden. This major scenario had provided a leeway for the fusion - though it was only speculation. But that did not change the fact that he had almost witnessed the death of his self.
When all hope seemed lost, Wolfred appeared in the picture - another version of him, his second identity. But he had a problem: this Wolfred was different. It was the projection within the memories of two participants, different from the one he had become. Yet they shared a single leeway, a binding scenario: the death of his wife, Elara. In the realization of that, Wolfred's will for self would falter, as he had predicted, and he would yearn more for death. Using that to his advantage, since it meant a lesser resistive mental barricade, at the very moment he resigned to death,he began to implant him with his consciousness. Manipulating him to stay behind and to accept his end as the only gateway to seeing Elara again. It was hard, though - you know, especially when you are not complete enough to do so. But he had no choice, even if it impinged on his moral boundary, making him a crafty, sketchy architect...a necessary one though..A sin or two to survive..,A moment's hesitation was all he spared. But somehow, it seemed the very rules governing this imaginative realm bent in his favor. And with that, he was able to corrupt all his consciousness, like a god, until he fully claiming the identity of Wolfred...now capable existing Independently..within this Imaginative horizon.. bearing his own will..
As expected, Wolfred's features changed...why?..well because It did not feel right, being in the body of someone else - made him seem conniving..like a sketchy mastermind and Not to mention it was less perfect than his initial body.. can't settle for less..can he..he thought smugly...so in the end his body was better. But instead of becoming a physical construct, he became sort of a ghost. He could not interact or feel with the memoryscape, like a rule prevented him from doing so.not like he hated it.I mean it was not bad.not at all - the last thing he wanted was another battle for survival against the coming hordes of hungry-looking undead. He was going to stick with just "undead"; it was shorter and better...and adequately descriptive..
But there still was a problem also..: the present him was only one-third of what he was - a fragment. The remaining fragments dwelled in the bodies of yours truly, which meant right now, he was witnessing in bits and glimmers..the dilemmas of Auria and Alwyn.he couldn't yet process the scenario but from the from the look of things, it was not a nice ordeal.