12 Summer 218
The group trudges along at a brisk pace to greet their destination, The Beauty, as quickly as possible. Following at the back of the group is Sylas, with furrowed brows and shallow, dark rings under his eyes. In the distance, the group, following Roux’s rhythm, hastens their movements. Sylas begrudgingly increases his own speed as well to better keep up. He stops short however, when out of the corner of his eye, he catches blurred movement.
Stopped in place, Sylas slowly turns his head in the direction he saw shifting of the tall grass. A moment passes as he holds his breath, waiting for another sound. A slight breeze brushes against the grass, but nothing provokes him further. Seeing how far he has fallen behind, he huffs in aggravation and begins to jog to keep a safe distance to the rest of the group.
After a half day of hard travel, the party has stopped for a brief rest to eat some of their remaining rations and recover some energy. Sylas has situated himself away from the others, in a clearing not far from everyone, but with immediate visibility barred by a few thick trees; opting to relish his meal in the relative peace away from human conversation and interaction. Possibly sneak in a brief nap before they left again, should the gods be kind to him.
He sits with his back against a rock, feeling himself beginning to drift into unconsciousness, when a similar blurred visage from before forces him to sit up straight, his eyes snapped open. Sylas quickly looks around him for any creatures that pose an immediate threat, discovering nothing within his periphery. With one hand on the hilt of a sword, he slowly moves to stand up, using the large rock to his back as a defensive point. Standing upright now, Sylas is still unable to find anything that could pose a danger to him.
After a moment passes, he moves to stand on top of the rock for a better vantage point. However, even with the wider range of sight from atop the boulder, nothing appears out of the ordinary to him. Just as he begins to lower his guard, the whisper of a young woman’s voice caresses his ear, “It’s the only way…”
Sylas draws both blades and whips around to face the source of the whisper, finding no one around. His heart rate increases as he listens with as much focus as he can muster, when the shuffling of a bush grabs his attention. He immediately turns, his eyes flashing hazel, as he sends out a wave of psychic energy toward a squirrel, knocking it backward and so that it lies limply on the ground.
Jumping down from the rock, Sylas approaches the still rodent apprehensively. Upon reaching it, and confirming it is in fact a squirrel, he sighs, agitated, stowing both weapons and kicks the small carcass further away. “A gift for the birds,” he remarks with a sarcastic bow towards the surrounding trees. He stands upright, rubbing his eyes, “I just want some fucking sleep…”
As he turns around to position himself against the boulder again, a new voice, a different woman, whispers into his other ear, “…condemn them to darkness.”
He quickly whips himself around, drawing a sword and slashing at the source of the voice. With a dull thump, his blade is driven into the side of a tree. He frantically searches around himself, letting go of the sword in the tree, drawing his other sword and a dagger as he takes a defensive position. His scans for additional sources of noise, when in the corner of his eye, what appears to be an explosion is set off. The vibration is deafening as he feels himself being thrown back. A moment passes, as a loud ringing reverberates in his ears; Sylas painfully opens his eyes to check his wounds but finds he has miraculously taken no damage.
Confused, the ringing incessantly buzzing in his head, he forces himself to stand and freezes. He looks towards where the source of that explosion came from but…nothing? There was nothing that would indicate anything had occurred. Frantically, Sylas looks over himself once more for any injuries, finding nothing. In that same moment of realization of discovering nothing has seemingly happened, the ringing in his ears stops. Replaced now by another whisper, the tone playful, “Cerise please…!”
This new whisper sparks a moment of realization with Sylas. How had he not noticed it before? It was obvious, but whether it be from exhaustion or being caught in the moment, he realizes only now, frozen in this moment, that the sounds and blurs of movement he’s caught and heard in his periphery carry the same sense of dread he has felt from his sleeping visions. The nightmares that keep him from sleeping at night are now seemingly haunting him in the waking world.
“Well I’m not especially thrilled about this particular metamorphosis…” he remarks to himself. In the distance, Sylas hears the rustling a grass and foliage coming in his direction. He breathes out slowly, attempting to calm his heart rate, and turns to find Athelia making her way towards him.
“Sylas, I came to get you, we’re about to head out…” She pauses, observing the scene, finding the young man in a state of disarray. Tall grass seemingly cut at odd angles, a sword stuck in the side of a tree, Sylas himself, looking particularly disheveled. Athelia notes the dark rings under his eyes and raises her eyebrows in slight concern. “Are you uh…are you alright?”
Sylas pauses, his eyes narrowing toward his ally, considering how to best approach his answer. He ponders for a moment if Athelia is truly here, or if she is another illusion like the others before. Would cutting her down prove the vision as false or merely paint him as delusional and an enemy to the others?
I couldn’t see the other hallucinations entirely. Only ever from the corner of my vision. And she’s speaking directly to me, not a boom or a whisper around me…
He walks over to the tree with a stuck sword and with a loud grunt, pulls it free from the bark. “All good here captain,” he calls back, sheathing his weapons. “Thought I would get some practice in during downtime. Who needs rest?” He walks to his original resting spot by the boulder and kneels to gather his equipment, pausing briefly to close his eyes as he extends his presence outward. On the brink of his blind vision, he finds Athelia waiting, an aura of blue and white misty wisps painting the outline of her figure.
Confirming she is real, Sylas stands to walk and rejoin the others. “Okay. If you’re sure,” she replies. As he approaches, Athelia feels her body reflexively tense up, and she steps aside to let Sylas pass. On a good day, though she may not fully trust him, he is approachable. At this moment, however, Athelia would like to keep as much distance between the two of them as possible. “Just let me know if you need anything…” she calls behind him, as they walk to return to the rest of the group.
“Just some fucking sleep,” he mumbles to himself.
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