The black marble is cold against my skin as Nyx quietly mumbles an incantation. One by one she lights and places a candle at each corner of the altar. I can’t help but feel like a sacrifice… then again. Maybe that’s what the rose knight is. A soul sacrificed in exchange for power and protection.
“The candles serve as a beacon, one which you may reference during your time in the Memoria. Once you are ready to return, follow the candle light.” She says.
She retrieves a bowl full of a silvery paint like substance and moves to my chest. She dips a finger into the bowl and paints fours symbols. One on my sternum, one just below my collarbone on each side and the last on my forehead.
“Returning from the ritual is a voluntary choice, one that I cannot make for you. The markings of the Mortem Moon will keep your consciousness whole. Without them your inner mind would overtake your controlled consciousness and all would become a permanent dream."
"How do I contact them?" I ask.
"They will find you." She returns the bowl to its place beside the altar and moves to stand at the head of it. "Time will move differently within the Memoria, but do not dawdle." She cups my head in her hands "We're counting on you." Lifting her head to the moonlight she begins the incantation.
"O Rosa, o Numen. O Noctis Afferens." The candles flash brightly as her words echo through the hall. "Nunc filium tuum sub luce lunae accipe." A burning sensation replaces the cold at each painted symbol. A soft silvery glow emanates from them. "Cum praeteritis, cum veteribus militibus, coniunge." Her voice becomes louder as the candles burn their brightest, streaming smoke into a swirling cloud above the altar. With each word the symbols burn hotter and hotter. Searing my skin. The smell of burning flesh and paint fills my nostrils as I cry out in pain. She nearly yells over my cries the final piece "Ut voluntatem tuam exsequatur et hosti tuo exitium inferat!"
The world goes dark. The smell of candle smoke has dissipated, the echo of Nyx's words no longer ring in my ears. I do not feel the cold of the altar, or the branding of the symbols. I feel weightless, as if I exist only as thoughts. For a moment, my reality is a peaceful blackness. A vast void of stillness. And then a voice calls to me.
"Soren." The voice echoes throughout my new reality, a deep but gentle voice that sounds strangely familiar. "Soren my boy." I feel the first physical sensation, a slight nudge, shaking me to wake. Slowly my eyes open, slivers of light pierce my vision. I strain my eyes against the light for a moment before they adjust and I'm met by a man standing above me. He's a handsome man, middle aged and dressed in plain clothes
"King Samir?" I ask. My voice is rugged, as if I had been asleep for days. He shakes his head, tears fill his eyes. I stare past him to the light coming from above us, the same gash in ceiling from the cavernous hall greets me. I sit up and feel the cold black marble altar under my hands, my eyes dance around the cave. Everything is as it was. My eyes return to the man, his eyes shimmer in the dim rays of light. I search his features for some sign of familiarity. And then I spot it. A scar, a thin outline of his cheekbone. The same scar I gave him as a child when he first handed me a metal blade.
"Father?" Joyful sorrow overwhelms my heart as he pulls me close, tears now flow freely down both of our faces. We share the tender moment, a reunion I never thought I would have. I had not expected my father to be here, his mortal form was never tainted by The Black Rose.
"How are you here?" I ask. Fighting back sobs with each word. He shakes his head with smile and ignores my question, instead hugging me tighter. As the sound of sobs slowly fades my father takes my face in his hands.
"It's so good to see you my boy." I savor the tenderness of the moment. He was a much harder man in life, never one to show his emotions so freely as this. But here, in some twisted afterlife. He is the man that I always wanted him to be, who I know he wanted to be. A kind and gentle soul, existing in a world that has not yet carved away those pieces of him. He drops his hands and take a deep shaky breath.
"Nyx asked me to be your guide." I look at him with blurry confusion.
"Nyx? How?"
"I do not know how she managed it. But I heard her voice, calling to me through the void. And then I was here." He steps back from me, studying me. Before waving a hand towards the exit of the hall. "Shall we?"
I move to lift myself off of the Black Marble but a sharp pain in my head drops me to a knee. A fragmented ghostly voice screams in my mind. "Do not trust-! -Death-, -Corrupt-." As quickly as it came the pain subsides. My father has gripped both shoulders with his hands and is staring intensely at me.
"Are you alright?" He asks.
"Yes." My breath begins to slow and my thoughts become tangled in a confusing web of the broken words. Whose voice spoke to me? Do not trust... what? I shake the thoughts away for the moment and return my father's gaze. "Let's go."
---
Gladly the only oddity of the rest of the cave was the absence of Watson, pet or not. I'm not fond of the creature. My father leads me out into the same woods I have called home for the past month. As we cross the threshold of the cave's entrance the world shifts around us. Morphing into a white mist then slowly fading into a new scene. The softness of the ground beneath my feet turns to the hardness of stone. The smell of fresh air and a crisp breeze in replaced by the stink of damp stone. Soaked in sweat and blood. We enter an elongated room with a high ceiling and several painted circles along the floor. Weapons and armor line the walls.
"What is this place?" I ask.
"The training hall of King Samir." His voice is full of as much wonder as I feel. As if he too is seeing this place for the first time. The clash of swords against armor fills the hall, along with the grunts and yells of men. We make our closer to the final ring of the hall. Two men, both dressed in full suits of dull grey armor spar inside of it. One man wields a long sword and a shield, the other has chosen a long halberd. I watch as the two expertly trade blows, each movement planned and executed with masterful precision. A blow from the halberd to its opponent's leg lands with terrifying force dropping the man to a knee. With the bout seemingly finished the halberd is raised to deliver a final strike.
But in retaliation the sword and shield are dropped to the floor and the wielder's hand catches the halberds shaft. The two men strain against one another. Confused at the decision to drop his weapons I watch the man's hand on the shaft intensely. Dark crystals begins to form, slowly creeping their way along the wood. He violently rips the shaft down, shattering the weapon into fragments of ice. Shadowy smoke rises from the pieces on the ground. Seizing the opportunity of an unarmed opponent he swings his good leg into the his opponents ankles sending them flying to their back. Quickly he rushes to stand atop them, his boot pressed into the sternum of the defeated man.
"I thought we agreed no magic." The defeated man says, reaching to push Corvus's foot off of him and stands. He removes his helmet to reveal a handsome face drenched in sweat. "Did your father teach the way of the thief rather than the warrior?"
Corvus has already removed his helmet, an arrogant smirk plastered onto his face. "Father taught me how to win, by any means necessary Samir."
"Of course he did."
The two men do not look as old as they should. Samir's appearance is that of a strong middle aged man with seasons of war beneath him. Not the elderly general he should be were he alive still. He notices my staring and spreads his arms wide, fashioning a grin onto his face.
"Ah, our guest of honor has arrived! Come, let us get a good look at you!" My father sets his hand on my shoulder.
“Come find me when you’re finished.” He gives me a last smile and makes his way out of the room. I make my way inside the ring to meet the two men.
"Your majesty." I say bowing my head.
"He's no more a king than I am a queen. Such pleasentries only serve to bolster his already thick ego." Corvus says. Laughing at his insult. His face is far younger than a grandfather's should be. He looks similar in age to me. Though his hair is already a pure white. Samir shoots an annoyed glare at Corvus before restoring his pleasant expression and addressing me.
"Good to finally meet you Soren. I am King Samir, rule of the kingdom of Lucen. Second of my name. And the first of our kind." He pauses for a moment. If he is waiting for bewilderment and awe to fill my expression he will not find it. I have no love for kings, even if they are family. A taunting voice comes from the a weapon rack along the wall.
"He already knows who you are King Samir. If he's here, that means Nyx has already explained who and what we are." His voice is thick with mockery as he returns his arms to the rack and strips his armor. Letting it fall and remain on the stone floor. "We're here to turn him into a war machine, not boast about accomplishments these shells never achieved." He seems a very bitter man, what horrors has he seen? What pain and torture has made him this way? Samir presses his fingers into his eyes, visibly annoyed at Corvus's lack of grandeur.
"Soren, was it?" I nod. "Good to meet you grandson. I have some business to attend to, the King here will take you through the introductory course. It's what he's best at." He winks slyly at Samir and begins walking towards the entrance to the training hall. Samir's hard eyes pierce into his back until he vanishes through the door. He shakes his head, muttering some insult about honor under his breath. As he makes his way to the edge of the room, carefully removing each piece of armor and setting it in its place. Once the last piece is placed in perfect alignment with the rest of the suit he turns me to with a kingly smile.
"Time to make you a hero."
