Location – Blackstone Dungeon
Darrow's crimson eyes met two dark orbs that seemed to swallow the surrounding light.
Then, an unknown voice spoke up, it was calm and somewhat soft.
"Blood Weaving…"
Giuseppe turns to the cloaked figure in the corner, stepping out of the shadows.
Out of the darkness came a young man no older than twenty. His features were sharp and ghostly pale. Rust-red hair cascaded down past his shoulders, and blue eyes that gleamed with more wisdom than a prisoner should have.
'He kind of looks a bit like Arthur, if he were more feminine and had fully red hair,' Giuseppe couldn't help but think.
The prisoner stared at Giuseppe, continuing, "It is a disgusting art which brings nothing but death and pain to all."
"Weavers use their very life essence as ink to carve runes of power into their flesh, which acts as parchment."
Giuseppe, Darrow and Garvick stare at the stranger. After some silence, Garvick couldn't help but speak up, "Well, well, look who's finally made 'imself known! Never thought ye'd be such a bonnie lad. Could nearly take ye for a lass, I could."
"And you are?" Giuseppe asks the cloaked prisoner, crossing his arms with a raised brow.
"I am Solada Sarica. But you may call me Solas," he responded with a slight bow of his head.
Giuseppe gives a silent nod before asking, "Well then, what can you tell me about Blood Weaving, Solas?"
Solas gives a curt nod, then begins explaining. "There are three pillars of Blood Weaving: Thread, Pattern, and Pact. You start with the Thread—your own blood. The stronger the body and spirit, the more potent your thread becomes."
"Then, Patterns. Patterns are the encoded shapes, glyphs, sigils—whatever you want to call them—they represent the concepts you wish to engrave into yourself."
Solas points a finger at Darrow's face, "From what I can see, his runes are the 'Orin' runes, which enhance reflexes and reaction time."
"And finally, there's the Pact. That is the most dangerous part. Every Weave needs a cost. You can not simply gain something without sacrificing something else in return." Solas concludes his explanation.
After some silence, Giuseppe nods and gives a serious glance towards Darrow and Solas, "All right, let's get started. Do your thingy, make me a Weaver. I don't care if it hurts, let's just get it over with and do it."
His cellmates stared at him silently, like he'd grown a second head.
"Do you really think it's that simple? Just initiating the first stage of the ritual takes weeks of preparation—even in a resource-rich environment. Out here? In this kingdom, it would take us months. And in this prison, it would be impossible. There is a faster method, but it's far more dangerous. And even if we were willing to take that risk, we're missing the most basic tools needed to attempt it." Solas responded, looking at Giuseppe as if he were an uneducated animal.
Giuseppe blinked, then stared at Solas like he was the idiot.
"Then what the hell was that whole dramatic speech for? I didn't need a damn exposition monologue if you weren't even gonna do anything yet!"
As Giuseppe and Solas continued bickering, Garvick leaned over and elbowed Marko, who thought he had been quiet enough that everyone had forgotten about him.
Garvick tilted his head toward the argument with a weary look. "Y'know, Marko... I've spent near all me days behind these cursed bars. Crossed paths with all manner o' madfolk—cutthroats, blood-priests, flesh-eaters—aye, even one poor sod who swore he were a squirrel come back from the grave."
He sighed, voice filled with long-suffering resignation.
"But this lot? Gods help me, the most pest'rin bunch I've ever had the misfortune to breathe beside. No contest."
"Hmm…" Garvick heard a deep growl of agreement from beside him. He turned in panic to see the goliath, Darrow, standing beside him.
"Ye mad bastard! 'Ow in all the hells does a great lump like you skulk about so quiet-like?"
***
The group had been talking all night long. To the displeasure and not-so-quiet complaining from the prisoners in the neighbouring cells.
"Well, any more questions?" Solas asked.
"Just one," Giuseppe said, "How long were you sitting in that corner, waiting for the chance to introduce yourself. It's okay, you can tell me, I won't judge you. I will. But I won't. Okay, I'm lying, I definitely will. But tell me anyway."
To the surprise of nobody, his question was completely ignored.
Then, the ever-silent Marko raised a finger, "Aye, I've got one. You've been yammerin' on all night about them Weavers and such, and the rest of us've said our piece, one way or another. But you? We know near nothin' about ye. Where're ya from—and what'd ye do to end up in here with the lot of us?"
Solada Sarica sat there in silence for a few moments, his gaze turned towards the window. His expression was unreadable.
"I'm from Crovania… I planned to leave after the royal family was killed. Jottrye seemed pretty good, if I could get over the heat. But, for some reason, I was attacked by these strange people on my way out of the city…" Solas's face scrunched as he remembered that day.
"Anyway, long story short, I had to change course, so I ended up here, but when I got here, I managed to piss off a knight. And then the fucker threw me in prison for 'Disrespecting a member of the order' or some bullshit." The others could tell there was more to the story, but they decided to forget about it.
"What about you all? Have any of you lot got anything to return to? Family?" Solas asks.
Garvick shakes his head with a bitter laugh, "Only thing waitin' for me back home's a cold, hard bed, a few bottles o' rotgut, and no one daft enough to miss me."
"Got four lads, I do," Marko said, "each near as slick with their hands as their old man. They'll manage well enough 'til I'm back home—if they ain't nicked half the town by then."
The men share a hearty laugh, then they turn to Giuseppe, who was laying on the floor, his head resting on his hand, he was staring in the direction of the ceiling. But his upper face was covered by his bucket hat.
Faces flicker in his mind. Marcus, Arthur, Tandav, Daniel… Evelynne.
"I… I have a few friends back home… Though they're all pretty busy with their own stuff right about now."
Giuseppe paused for a moment. "I had a brother… He was a great cook, but… At this point, I don't even remember how it tasted. I just remembered being happy to eat it."
"He was a big talker, he smiled a lot too. Not cause someone tripped on the cracks of a pavement or something, but because he believed that if you smiled, you would always be the winner."
Giuseppe let out a low laugh, perhaps of grief, perhaps of lethargy, or maybe confusion. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this. Not even those guys know about him."
He slowly sits up, re-adjusting his bucket hat. "Thank you. I think I needed that." He gave a meaningful nod toward every individual one of his cellmates. "I'm glad I see your lives as worthless NPC's."
None of them knew what he was on about, but Giuseppe seemed genuine, so they took it with a nod.
Then, they turned to Darrow, who was standing by the window, staring out at the moon with an unreadable expression.
He turned towards the sitting men. "My wife was killed by a noble," Darrow said, his voice heavy. His crimson eyes darkened with a silent, burning fury.
"One of my sons was left maimed beyond recognition, and the remaining of my children have been taken by the very man who slaughtered my wife."
"I have nothing left."
The weight of his words lay heavy, silence settled over them.
...
"No…"
"You can still save them," Giuseppe said, standing up, slowly walking towards the goliath. "We are going to escape this place. And we will save your children."
Giuseppe laid out his hand. Darrow didn't know why, but he found himself clasping his outstretched hand, shaking it firmly. "I…I believe you."
Giuseppe then turned to Solas, "What do you know about The Black Arena? Since I can't be a Weaver just yet, I'm going to need every advantage I can get since I will be going up against them."
Solas stood shocked, he couldn't believe his ears. "Are you insane?! You're just an ordinary human. You can't fight against those animals!"
"That's not sounding like the information I'm trying to hear, Solas!" Giuseppe berated, "Do I need to give you a good beating before your brain starts functioning?"
Solas ran a hand through his face in frustration. "Fine, whatever! I hardly even know you! I don't care if you die!"
With a sigh, he sat back down on the stone floor of the cell. "The King's right hand said you would fight in the Black Arena. Which opens in 2 Days, which coincidentally is on the day of The Crimson Veil."
"What's that?"
The four of them looked at Giuseppe as if he were an alien.
"Ye serious? 'Ave ye been livin' under a rock all this time? Ain't been nothin' else folk go on about these past few years!" Garvick said.
"I've been busy." Giuseppe shrugged.
"The Crimson Veil is a worldwide holiday that only happens once every five centuries. It's a celebration for a magical phenomenon where Edathis's twin moons Lunareth and Syrvael, and the dying star Azhuraxis, all align in a rare cosmic event."
"This phenomenon causes the moon to glow with a red light, which makes it look like the moon is 'bleeding.' This event is called The Virelun Ascension."
As Solas finishes his explanation, Garvick looks at him with an incredulous, slightly disgusted look. "By the gods, ye really are a right book-mad whelp, ain't ye?"
Meanwhile, Giuseppe sat back down with a contemplative expression. "So… I have two days to prepare."
He sighed in exhaustion, 'I'm out here goin' through it. I wonder what those dickheads are doing right about now.'
***
Location – Holy Realm of Solvan – Orythia, The Kingdom of Light – Clockspire, City of Five Blades.
The air shimmered with sanctity inside the Grand Cathedral of Luminara, its towering walls bathed in golden-white light pouring through endless panes of celestial stained glass. Columns stretched like prayers toward the heavens, entwined with ivy-laced filigree and blue-blossomed vines that glowed faintly, as if kissed by divinity.
Soft rays of sun danced across the marble floors, filtered through the sky-painted glass that made the heavens seem a breath away. Above, a grand wheel of gilded crystal spun slowly beneath the vaulted ceiling, one could see the fluttering wings of doves through it.
A lone figure in white-layered robes walked with measured steps down the central aisle, the hem of his garment gliding over the pristine floor like flowing silk.
At the apex of the sanctuary, where golden steps led to a dais with a single throne of white stone and an arc of radiant sigils, an old man stood. Clad in ceremonial robes of ivory and blue, his presence radiated a tranquil authority.
"It is a pleasure to see you again, Bishop Vathan," the old man said, his voice like a bell struck in soft reverence, his smile as calm as still water.
Marcus bowed his head deeply. "I am honoured, Your Holiness."
The Pope offered a slight nod, his eyes aglow with age and wisdom, before speaking once more. "I take it you and your captain, Cardinal Mordred, have returned from your expedition?"
"Yes, Your Holiness," Marcus replied calmly. "He is currently visiting the Saintess, along with the others."
"I see," murmured the Pope, his gaze turning toward the celestial ceiling, a large mural depicting the divine scripture of the Goddess Luminara.
"Has this expedition provided you with any insights into your pilgrimage?"
Marcus remained silent for a moment, his eyes trailing upward as if seeking answers within the mural itself. Then he spoke, measured and deliberate.
"…Yes, Your Holiness. Though not the kind I expected."
The Pope's expression did not change, he merely let his silver eyes gaze into Marcus's golden ones.
"Then," he put a gentle hand on Marcus's shoulder, "Our Goddess must have another path laid out for you, my child."
***
Location – Myrenhold, Kingdom of the Thousand Eyes – Silver Isles of Tollorin – South Redrock
The Grand Menagerie Courtyard, Astralum Arcanorum.
Beneath the shadows of titanic archways and polished marble statues, Daniel wandered the luminous blue halls, multiple spellbooks floated around him, much like many of the other students walking through the hall.
Sunlight peered down through the long windows as he passed them, and floating beasts swam through the air above him.
'How did I wind up in another academy right after getting out of one?' Daniel couldn't help but lament as he gave a short bow to a passing professor.
"Are you always this broody, or is it just when you're walking under floating sharks?" came a voice from behind. Daniel didn't need to turn, he already knew exactly who.
She emerged from behind him with a bright smile, her hair was as golden as her eyes, with a heart-shaped face and full lips.
"Claudia Bravane," Daniel muttered, but didn't stop walking. "I thought I smelled trouble."
Claudia caught up, matching his stride. "Hmm~, no. That's just my new perfume. It's called 'Lust & Lightning.' Do you like it?"
He gave her a sidelong glance. "You wore that just for me?"
"I don't wear anything just for you," she purred. "But I do like how you notice."
Daniel gave an exasperated sigh, "I can not believe you are supposed to be my senior mentor."
They passed beneath a hovering whale. Its shadow swallowed them for a short moment.
"Speaking of…" Claudia murmured, sidling closer. "You know, if you ever want a private lesson in heat channelling… I'm quite well-versed in fire magic. Very hands-on~"
Daniel snorted, not bothering to look at her. "Tempting. But I'll pass."
Claudia blinked. "Oh?"
He shrugged. "Not sure there's much someone like you could teach me, anyway."
That made her stop in her tracks.
"Someone like me?" she echoed, eyes narrowing as she fired a sharp glare at his back. "Care to explain what that's supposed to mean?"
"I'll have you know, I am a brilliant mentor."
Daniel slowed, half-turned, and gave her a look—equal parts bored and amused. "Forgive me if I question the wisdom of a 'brilliant mentor' who spends more time seducing her underclassmen than actually studying."
Her jaw dropped. "Excuse you—!"
He kept walking. "But hey, you're doing great. Very educational."
***
Location – New Dominion of Lynthos – Emerald Reef.
The brilliant sun shone on the beach, lighting it in liquid gold. Waves rolled in a slow rhythm. A young man lay reclined beneath a crooked coconut tree, shirtless, shoeless, wearing only a makeshift skirt made of leaves.
Beside him, lounging lazily on the sun-warmed sand, was a large white tiger. Her fur shimmered faintly in the sun. She let out a low, contented rumble as the young man scratched behind her ear, her eyes half-lidded.
"Maria," Tandav murmured, resting his head back against the coconut tree, "I think we should just retire. Stay here. Let whatever happens, happen."
The white tiger yawned in response, her massive jaws opening wide before snapping shut.
Tandav smirked. "You're right. Peace does get boring quite quickly. But still, I like peace. It's…Peaceful."
Maria flicked her tail across his leg in silent agreement, and the two of them basked in the sun.
Then, she sat up with a low growl. Her ears twitched, and Tandav also sat up, turning his head in the same direction.
He narrowed his eyes as he saw a silhouette on the horizon—a black-hulled vessel with wide, white sails. Its bow was shaped like an open-mouthed creature that Tandav could not name. And faint blue lights flickered along its sides.
Tandav exhaled and closed his eyes. He let his senses drift, his consciousness shifted skyward, merging with the keen vision of a hawk soaring above. A sharp caw split the air as he glided through the sun-drenched sky, banking toward the ship until the painted letters along the hull came into view—The Black Sentinel.
He then felt his senses return to him, re-opening his eyes.
Tandav rose to his feet, brushing the sand from his hands as Maria padded up beside him. He glanced down at her and muttered with a wry smile, "I guess our vacation has come to an end."
***
Location – The People's Republic of Skeldar – Old Kreskova.
Eastern Ridgewood Range.
The towering mountains stood above the deep forest below. A bird soared in the air. Far off, a stream of water flowed down. Wind howled through valleys. The air was crisp, clean, undisturbed—perfect.
Until—
"FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!"
A streak of panicked limps and wild hair burst from the treeline, diving into the water—not stopping and immediately swimming to the other side.
Arthur sprinted like a man possessed, half-tripping and almost stumbling down multiple times. But he couldn't stop. Behind him, an ear-splitting roar shattered the peaceful silence of the mountain.
"WHY—DOES—IT—HAVE—SO—MANY—LEGS?!"
The answer never came, but the forest behind him exploded as a massive beast of grotesque flesh crawled out from the depths of hell. The creature almost looked like a giant snake, if not for it's un countable number of legs, equally as many eyes, and the writhing tentacles all over its body.
Arthur couldn't react in time before the beast was already upon him, it's maw open with countless teeth protruding out.
Shing!
Before Arthur could be devoured by the creature. The sound of a single blade slash reverberated across the forest. And the creature was sliced directly down the middle, splitting to Arthur's two sides as its corpse fell.
Arthur noticed a human shadow creep up behind him, but he was too tired to stand. His body gave out as he laid back down on the grass.
He wheezed, "I—told—you—I wasn't—built—for—this—shit!"
Arthur opened his eyes to see the scowling face of his master. She stood tall, her long green hair flowed past her thighs like riverweed. Her skin was pale, unmarked by time or scars—no doubt thanks to her elven heritage. Sharp yellow eyes, slit like a cat's, stared at him with cold irritation.
Her pointed ears twitched slightly as she crossed her arms, and the tips of her fingers tapped against the pommel of her blade. She wore a deep emerald cloak over form-fitting light armour.
"You have three seconds to get up before I feed you to the next one."
"Fuck you, Meliel!"
***
Location – Caer Nyx, Dominion of the Hollow Crown.
The carriage wheels screeched to a halt against damp cobblestone, and the driver offered no word as Evelynne stepped out.
Lanters sat atop rusted wrought-iron posts. The buildings here stood tall and narrow—brick layered over ancient stone, slanted roofs, smoking chimneys. It smelled of old paper and pipe smoke. Somewhere in the dark, Evelynne could hear a violin playing.
Evelynne's presence turned heads—not just because she was striking, but because of the blatant show of wealth.
She wore her hair in long, tight braids that cascaded down her back and shoulders, etched with thin, gold threads and rings that chimed faintly with every movement. Around her neck and collarbone hung layers of golden chains. A high-necked black coat tailored from armoured fabric clung to her form.
Evelynne walked through the slick streets of the dark city, her boots cutting through puddles thick with soot and oil. Before long, she found herself in a place with no civilians in sight.
Stopping before an old structure of iron and stone—it's doorway creaking open like a waiting mouth. Evelynne walked through, and with that single step—she found herself in a new place.
Her eyes narrowed as she saw glanced at the countless mirrors surrounding her. Each one showing herself dying in distorted and grotesque ways.
Then, a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as she tilted her chin upward. Above her, suspended in the gloom, was a single enormous eye—unblinking, lidless, and watching.
"Finally," she whispered, her golden eyes narrowing. "There you are."
____________________________________
Author Note
;)