Viator Mundi
EXP: 155,108, Level: 17
Level completed: 18%,
EXP required for next Level: 14,892
His eyes were open, yet he could see nothing. He couldn’t feel anything, either. Not his hands, his feet, his arms or legs. He couldn’t even feel the pounding of a heartbeat in his chest. There was a terrifying absence of sound. His brain told him he should be naturally expecting these feelings, yet they were missing entirely. In fact, the only reason he knew he was even alive was because his mind begged him to believe it was so.
Is this real?
Suddenly a cold, prickling sensation spread over the top of his right foot. It was slight, at first, but grew stronger with every second, reaching his ankle and the finally bottom of his shin.
What’s going on?
A murky, purple haze began to seep through the darkness towards him. He could feel the same cold prickling sensation sweep across his face as the black void peeled away from him and his surroundings were gradually revealed to him.
The room, if one could even could call it a room, was smothered in a dense lilac mist that rolled over a dark granite floor and cascaded down from a cracked, mossy stone ceiling thirty foot above. There seemed to be no walls; just an impossible expanse of void that stretched on far beyond what the eye could render, obscured by the thick steam-like substance pouring down from above.
As the feeling returned to his face, the nameless man could begin to taste an electricity in the air; a cold static that curdled the blood and left an awful metallic aftertaste on his tongue. Then suddenly, although muffled at first, sounds began to come to life around him. The hissing of steam, the snapping of an electrical current, the recoil of his laboured breathing and even his heartbeat reverberated around and inside him. He still couldn’t feel anything below his neck and above his feet; evident by the fruitless attempts to move his limbs.
“Welcome back, Shinsou.”
The voice that spoke was soft but a little gruff. Shinsou Vaan Osiris turned his head left in the direction of the voice and observed silently as a silhouette paced through the sickly marbled expanse of black and purple, distorted by the smoke in the same way scenery might be blurred by heat in a desert.
The figure stopped short of him, just enough to ensure his features were mostly obscured save for a straw sedge hat and what appeared to be a cane to lean on.
“Don’t try to speak. You’ve been sealed away for three years; having your mouth sealed shut for that long means your throat muscles need some time to recover.”
Shinsou tried to muster up the energy for a response, but his mind drew a blank and his mouth remained shut.
“Like I said, you’re going to struggle. This place is harsh on the body.”
The man shook his head. As he did so, he caught a little of the light that was present in the room and Shinsou made out some of his features. A short black stubble beard, a vagrant’s white and gold patterned haori from the neck down, and soft, mellow hazel eyes gazing back at him through the black.
“I have to admit I’m a little shocked you’re awake as early as this. You’ve been treated with a little more intensity than the usual clientele of this place, so getting back on your feet may take a little more time. Sorry.”
The man put his hands behind his back, resting back on his cane, and sighed.
“Do you know who you are? Where you are? Nod or shake your head.”
Shinsou pondered for a moment, willing his mind to try to remember, but the neurons couldn’t make the connections. He shook his head; the first pro-active response the man in front of him had gotten since his arrival.
The man pivoted on his cane and walked back a few steps before stopping abruptly, waving a hand across his body to dispel some excess mist.
“Your name is Shinsou Vaan Osiris, a Telgradian soldier. At this moment in time you are in our capital city Garah. More specifically, you are inside a Telgradian facility called Kokushi, recovering from some quite serious injuries.”
Shinsou tried hard to think. Telgradian Soldier? Kokushi?
“Don’t try too hard to make sense of it all right now, because your mind is still fragile. For now, just listen to what I have to tell you. You were brought to Kokushi to heal. The properties of the thick mist in this place can help to restore the soul and body in its entirety.”
The man paused, sighing again. He took off his sedge hat and wiped a bead of sweat from his head.
“Sorry, as you can probably tell by now, the humidity here is a little heavy. Anyway, I can’t tell you much more. I have orders to prepare you for a meeting with the Telgradian Council of Five, and they will shed some light on what happened. For now, I’ll release your remaining seals and give you a little time to get your body in working order.”
The man raised his right hand, outstretching it towards Shinsou, before muttering a quick and almost inaudible incantation. A ring of blinding silver light quickly expanded out from an epicentre close to the Telgradian’s heart, through his body horizontally, and shattered into glimmering dust in front of his eyes. The man turned and began to walk away, dragging his cane with him, as the use of Shinsou’s arms and legs began to return to him.
“Shirubashakkuru,” Shinsou’s throat was dry and burning from inhaling some of potent mist as he spoke, and his words were staggered and broken, but he struggled on nonetheless, “I don’t remember much, but I remember Shirubashakkuru. A binding spell. You only used half the incantation.”
He found himself struggling for breath after only these short sentences and stopped talking.
The enigmatic warden of this strange place stopped in his tracks, and had now spun to face him. This figure once again caught the light and his once relaxed expression had changed to shock, his eyes were wide with awe and his mouth slightly ajar. It took him five seconds or so to relax his demeanour.
“So you can talk after all. Impressive, very impressive! Even more so that you can recall the details of such a rare spell after waking from a three year sleep in here.”
Shinsou fell silent again, his heart now pounding and his lungs burning from inhaling the strange purple smoke. The man tapped his cane on the floor and summoned a shimmering circular portal in the centre of the room.
“You should stop and rest now. The more you talk, the harder the atmosphere of this place will be on your lungs. I will summon some attendants to take you from here shortly, so sleep for now. Oh, and my name is Telos Soltair.”
Shinsou's cracked lips opened. "Telos...Father? Is that...you?"
Telos smiled warmly for a moment. "You remembered! It's the first time you've called me that since - well. We'll see each other later, kid."
Shinsou looked up one final time. Fragments of memories began to return. The Jal Shey had taken him. They had used him, and sent him to war against his own people. He had killed thousands for them against his will. Fingers clenched into their palms, and blood dripped from the crescent wounds as the Telgradian gritted his teeth in anger.
"Dad. The Jal Shey. I...remember. Is Rhovani...ok?"
The man began to pace through the portal, its silver surface rippling as his body made contact with its surface. At the final moment, just before the light enveloped him fully, he turned.
"She's dead, Shinsou. I'm sorry. You didn't deserve what happened to you. We'll set that right very soon. I promise."
