Chapter 46:The Fall of the Knight of Vernys
When the blur finally receded, his eyelids stuttered open under the piercing sunlight, taking in the world before him. The air tasted damp, laced with the earthy tang of moss and rain-soaked soil. Around him stretched an evergreen expanse, his eyes welcoming the calming sight of luscious trees with huge canopies arching overhead like a living cathedral, their leaves whispering in the faint breeze.
His thoughts shattered when he felt a wooden bump against his buttocks, his body registering the full scenario: this familiar sense of motion. He was moving—no, rather, he was in something moving. The smell of wheat and barley wafted to his nose. He turned to see them lying in heaps beside him. Panic raved through him, though much lesser than he expected. Maybe he had lost hope, or maybe he'd grown accustomed to these sheer shifting landscapes. Yet the only thought lodging in his mind was whether his sister had successfully escaped, or if he'd been left behind—his sleeping body abandoned—or taken along. He prayed for the latter. He couldn't leave Ruby all alone in a new, strange world. Mom and Dad would be angry, wouldn't they? He clutched his hands, but then he noticed the strangeness of it: they were huge and pale, with a length and girth impossible for someone his age. The only coherent words his head could form were that, for certain, this hand wasn't his.
Frantically, he felt his body—his muscles more bulky and compact, skin oddly smooth. His frame was huge, his legs much longer than his original. Now it was certain. His heart thumped, adrenaline surging, panic spiking no matter how he tried to tone it down. The fact emerged victorious: he was living within the shell of someone else—a man, one with a... His hands reached to his hair, which cascaded down, framing his face. It was white, not his normal black, but white.
Was he becoming a monster like Pa did? His eyes burned with the thought. No, he couldn't let it end like this, leaving Ruby alone. He couldn't be... Mom would be sad. He had to fight this. He had to wake up from whatever dream this was.
The white hair, a figure as pale as this—like a saint—he had seen someone like that. A man. His thoughts desperately pieced together the clues: during his first weird dream, he had seen the white-haired figure approaching before being propelled back into the darkness. He saw someone like that, didn't he? His hands hugged his knees, pulling them close.
Was that figure the one responsible for the fall of Eden, the one turning people into monsters... like his Pa?
"Seems you are awake, lad," the words laced with an old, labored tone latched onto his psyche, jolting him fully conscious. His eyes traced the source to the frail back of an old man lodged at the far end of the cart. He seemed to be the driver of this cart.
A surge of elation coursed through him. He wasn't alone in this ordeal. Maybe the old man could offer him answers.
He released his legs from the hug. In that moment, a powerful force collided with his ribs, the impact sending multiple jolts of pain. His ribs felt like they were powdering to dust, his organs on that side pulped. His consciousness dimmed, making his world soundless. Blood sprayed from his mouth and nostrils. All he could register was the blank night sky and the pale white moon, and the blazing eyes that glimmered like the sun. It was the monstrosity from earlier—he thought he had escaped. His body lunged into the air, the cool breeze flapping his long white hair. The sky before him was more beautiful than before, a tapestry of stars.
He was dying.
He was going to meet Mom and Dad in the halls of eternity.
He was leaving Ruby alone in a strange, unfavorable world.
How then would he face them? Ruby...
Tears welled up in his eyes, floating in shimmering drops illuminated by the night sky. His heart—or whatever pulp of it remained—screamed defiantly in a dying resolve.
He didn't want to die. Not yet. He didn't... He sniffed, the sound lost in the wind.
In the near-timeless moment before his body collided against the great gray walls of the cathedral, some mumbled words jumbled into his head. But he could make out bits of it, for the tempo was increasing from muffled sounds to brain-racking screams. Whatever it was, it was beckoning him to wake up—repeatedly, frantically.
Was this a dream? Could he wake up? Hope lodged in, even as his body suspended in near-still motion, as if the landscape had lost the gift of time. He still hoped, shutting his eyes.
Resisting with all his might, the frantic memories surged into him, a torrential flood that threatened to erase him entirely. He was a knight, his muscles burning with the strain of duels. He was dining with an old man and a woman bearing a chilling resemblance to his sister, her cold demeanor making him gulp down a mouthful of food that nearly choked him. He saw a terrifying monster wreathed in tentacles—a shudder wracking his soul. Still they came, faster and faster: the scent of salt and grains in a sea harbor, the strange, spired city of Avalon, knights in dark armor clashing in a war, the scream of steel and the hot spray of blood, the sparks flying from his blade as he met an enemy's sword. He felt every impact, every groan, every cry as if it were his own.
He was drowning, his consciousness dissolving in this alien sea. Yet he persisted, a single, defiant thought a rock against the tide. He was Alwyn, not Xiall or whatever, or Auria. He was Alwyn.
And he had to wake up. He had to, for the sake of Ruby.
He had to...
Wake up, Alwyn. Wake up.
What followed was a still silence, then the sensory details returned.
The voice was manly, shaking his entire body with a firm, gauntleted hand. He opened his eyes. The world around him was almost devoid of light, surrounded by dark mist that obstructed his vision. Yet relief shot through him. He was back—he was back from the nightmare. He exhaled, the breath ragged.
"Goodness, you are awake," the urgent voice of the blond-haired knight tore through before his face appeared. When it did, it was laced with concern.
Then his thoughts clicked: Ruby. Amidst the clanking of swords and growls, his eyes wafted desperately for his sister, but the knight's hands held him in place. The blood from his arm dripped onto the ground—or so it seemed—before it was devoured by the mist, turning into a dark greenish liquid. His eyes still frantic, paying no heed to the scene in front of him. Where was Ruby?
His question was answered as the knight, after securing him in place, disappeared only to reappear with his sister in his arms—now conscious yet silent, her body shaking silently, her eyes near lifeless. She was scared. His heart wrenched. She wasn't supposed to see all this, but the fact she was alive and safe mattered more.
His heart thumped elatedly, his teary eyes locking hers before pulling her into a hug—as tightly as he could. His eyes, though partially obstructed by his tears and the dark fog which was making it hard to breathe and see, gave a glance of acknowledgment and gratitude.
The knight's broad figure retreating into the darkness, he gave a nod and a smile—one that bore sadness rather than joy, in memory of a loss, perhaps someone close to him. Very close.
But still, Alwyn held his thanks. His sister clinging to him, he gazed frantically around. Where then was Lady Auria?
---
With a silver glint of her blade, she severed the head of the last undead within her scope of visibility. The skull—a gaunt thing with sunken eyes and rotting flesh, its jaw unhinged in a perpetual snarl—tumbled away. It rolled frantically alongside the heaps of others she had decapitated, its body laying disoriented on the floor amongst some others, searching for its head. They just didn't stay down—only disoriented for a moment before snapping back together. That was why she had to target the head; it took longer for regeneration.
Her hands clutched her injured arm. She had been bitten, the sensation what had jolted her out of the nightmarish monstrosity she had seen.
Desperately, she had tied the infected area, which dripped dark ichor instead of blood. The skin around it turned grayish, decaying, while purple veins spread out from the injury like creeping roots. Luckily, the pieces of cloth she had tied to block it slowed its spreading speed, but didn't stop the infection itself. The bite throbbed with a cold fire, numbness creeping up her limb as if her very veins were turning to stone.
The stark realization hit her: she was going to become one of those monstrosities. This was her end, wasn't it?
Then the voice of Mennyx tore through the fog, his figure emerging from the dark mist. His metallic armor reflected the drowning rays of sunlight that penetrated the fog. Her eyes wandered to Mennyx's arm, dripping with blood—the white bandage now scarlet. His face was pale; he really was losing a great deal of blood. He needed attentive medical care.
Her train of thought was interrupted by the pain that shot from her skull, making her eyes bloodshot. She gritted her teeth, opening her eyes after a moment's reprieve—though it didn't make the pain any lesser, but at least she could adjust to it. The infection was spreading faster than she thought, or was it the effect of the dark mist? But when her eyes opened, she saw Mennyx bent before her, his eyes searching hers.
Concern laced in them. She placed her hand on his shoulder, then briefly shook him, a smile laden on her lips.
Helping herself up, she glanced at the horizon—though now filled with the dark fog that sent jolts of pain to her psyche. She could hear the growls, the hungry wails of the approaching undead, and a low rumble on the ground—one that sent eerie vibrations through her body, accompanied by fear.
Using her blade as support to steady herself, she exhaled. This was where her journey ends—a conclusion she had made peace with.
"You know, Mennyx," she spoke, turning her face away from him—she didn't want the bleeding knight to notice the pain on her face and the teary eyes. "The last undead to fall by my sword was..." Her eyes traveled to her silver blade. "...a young page, Conan. I was appointed as his trainer. Quite an enthusiastic fellow he was—would chat and rant about being a greater knight than even the Knightlord. Well, he was hardworking, no less. He was one of my prides as a knight.
Called me his mentor, his idol, and other epithets I've forgotten. And now..." Her eyes wandered to the body of the lad, desperately looking for its growling head. Her face contorted in pain. "...his blood lays spewn on my blade—the one I swore to protect him with. Ironic, isn't it?" She questioned, though it sounded more like a statement.
"Lady Auria," Mennyx called, beckoning her closer, his voice raspy. "I can't decipher the meaning behind the story you've told. Although I sympathize with you no less, but..." His voice more frantic, like he was scared. "...we have to prioritize escape," he added.
She exhaled, her hands clutching her sword tighter. Turning towards him, she spoke.
"Mennyx, take the kids and leave. Escape south to Avalon. And tell the Knightlord... Eden has fallen." Her voice betrayed no command, her eyes though teary, locked on that of the shivering knight, who took a step back. His face dumbfounded, masked in layered confusion, his mouth struggling to speak.
"But... but what about you, Lady Auria? Why..." His question froze when she brought out her arm—pasty white with bulging purple veins netting from a rotting bite that dripped black ichor. His eyes went bloodshot in terror.
"Now you get it, Mennyx. I'm bitten. I would become like them soon—a monster. One I don't want you to purge your blade with." Her voice breaking to hiccups, she was trying hard to hold it in. Real hard.
"Why... wh..." The knight couldn't find his voice, his eyes tear-clouded. A few spilled, sliding down his cheeks before landing soundlessly on the floor. He took a step toward her, his steps shaky.
But with a dismissive wave of her hand and a stern facade, she put him to a halt. They had less time—the towering condemnation would be here any minute, and she had to hold those undead back.
There was no time for hesitation.
"Mennyx, upon your devotion to me as your leader," her voice raspy yet stern, turning her figure away from him—the sight of him made her resolve weaken, made her seek hope even in this peril.
She sighed, then she added, "I order you to leave with those kids. They are the future, the remainder of our hope."
"As you wish...My lady.."he muttered his voice shrouded in painful resignation...
Then, after more stutterings from Mennyx, she heard his footsteps recede—slowly, his armor clinking. Then it stopped when it had receded quite a far distance.
"Send my greetings to them..." he said, his voice dropping into the formal, heartfelt tone of a final prayer. "Our fallen comrades and friends... and Caelyx... when you take your place amongst the blessed halls of eternity, where the songs of paradise last forever."
She gave an affirmative nod. She would.
Her mind drifting to Lysander, she promised she would.
"Then it's goodbye, my revered lady—the Knight of Crimson, Auria Vernys." He added, his tone echoing deep melancholy, each word heavy with the weight of unspoken regrets, like a final breath drawn out in the quiet before a storm.
His footsteps receding into oblivion.
She exhaled, the pain racking her head, making her wince once more. Her infected hand was going limp, yet a new kind of resolve welled within—even if she was all alone in the cold and dark grasp of death, before a coming siege of undead whose guttural and ferocious growls tore through the dark shroud. Even if the twin fierce illuminations—like a blazing sun, whose fiery rays pierced through the fog itself—eyes of the approaching colossal condemnation. What awaited these terrors was peace: an eternity with friends.
She smiled, hands clutching her blade. She took her stance. She was going to go down with honor.
After all,she was a Knight...and Knights were brave...