Keres Leventis's Story

The smithy man stood between her and the golem. Smoke puffed out from him in a gentle rhythm, filling the air with a haze. The smell of him, like strong metal, filled Tiotio with resolve. His frame spoke of power and of a fierce energy, just barely contained.

Just one strong ally to help her protect Eitr, one friend, meant she was not alone, that this would not end as it had that night in the alley.

<b>“With you both as my witnesses, I will never run again.”</b>

Tiotio screeched her support, thrusting her bo threateningly at the golem.

The golem did not advance, did not give indication that it noticed them. The mud that rippled across its body flowed faster, swirling around, dislodging the sticks, picking them up like branches in a river.

It seemed for a moment to convulse as the mud changed direction and flowed to the ground. A pool spread before the creature as it oozed to the ground, its mockery of a face pulled into something horrifying as it melted.

Wayland could not back away fast enough as the mud surrounded his shoes. It crept up, caking the toes in filth. He realized too late that the mud was not rising, he was sinking, as cold wetness gripped his legs.

Then he was gone, like a stone dropped into a lake.

Tiotio was shocked into a still stupor. Her bo hung limp in her hand. Next to her Etir called, screeching out in his baneful voice that she should fight, run, do anything. She found her senses just in time to see a hand shoot forward out of the mud.

Its claws were the tips of treebrances, and its fingers lumps of mud that held her by the neck, lifting her into the air. Her bo dropped to the stone floor. She kicked and clawed uselessly to try to free herself. Filth coated her hands and feet as they passed through the mud.

On the other side of the platform Keres still stood, still stared forward. Whether she was still lost in her own despair, Tiotio did not know, but she used her last wind to try and call to the woman for help.


---


River was alone on the platform. The echo of Aizen’s words hung overlong in his ears, like a ringing. A discordant note.
The note seemed to stretch out, filling the air above his head, causing the darkness to vibrate. Then he was vibrating. It was not his own body, his own flesh, but the energy he carried inside of him, the souls he’d consumed.

A form condensed out of the air, a single white string, strumming to the now melodic sound. It was voices calling, drums beating, waves crashing. It was deafening and calming.

The string opened into a seam. It split wide to reveal white nothingness. Then there was a pull, a longing that tore at him from the inside. The souls, each one he’d consumed, each piece of essence he’d ripped away from its person, called in one voice to be set free, to be allow passage into this welcoming place.

With this tugging came a certainty, that if these souls, these spirits, found their rest through the light, the act would tear River to pieces. His own soul, his own being, would travel with them and vanish into the air, join them in their peace.

But a noise pulled him from this realization, pulled his attention from the light. A column of water, thick and round, suspended in the air, splashed stray bits of water onto the stone, and on to River.

Nothing seemed to be holding it in place, and even as small bits of it dripped and dribbled on the ground, the main body of the column stayed suspended in the air.

Inside the water was a man, one River thought he recognized from the trials, maybe the battle. His clothes, torn and stained from the battle, whipped around him as if pushed by some churning current.

In Wayland’s mind he saw ocean, the light of day on the surface, growing every more dim as he sunk further and further. The heat of his body, of his bones and muscle was leaking out of him into the icy water. He did not see the red haired boy who stood only feet from him, he saw dark blue nothing, crushing him from all sides.

For three the illusion vanished. They saw the room for what it was - neglected and worn. Gone were the ghosts of their past. The Nameless leader sat, hands still clasped in front on him, his face expressionless.

It was the same room where they’d taken breakfast, though so different from how it had looked then, that it could be mistaken for another. Furniture was broken, light fixtures covered in dust so thick it dampened the quality of the light. Aizen’s own chair had stained upholstery that was coming away from the frame in many places.

Aera, Ivan, and Pravus each could see this room now as it truly was. They sat where they had before the trial, still in the chairs. The feelings and sensations of a moment before lingered.

The others were there in body, but not in mind. They were still lost in the illusion, their trial incomplete. They too were in chairs, but their eyes darted back and forth, following unseen forms. Their bodies were tense, held motionless through magic.

Keres was unlike the others. Her body was relaxed, limp even. Her eyes stared unfocused, seeing at once the room before them, and the illusion built for her, where Tiotio’s mind was still trapped.

Aizen turned his eyes on the three.

“You are done. Welcome to the Nameless, I am Aizen.”

"That was quite an interview Master Aizen. If that was the entrance exam, then this guild must be fairly strong. What of the others?"

Seeing that the previous situation had been dealt with, Aera quickly calmed down. She noted Aizen and his overwhelming presence and assumed that he is the head of the guild. Whether or not she was being overly formal didn't matter to Aera, what mattered was that she had passed and was still alive along with her comrade Pravus.

"Pravus, you're ok right? I want to thank you for stopping that shovel before it killed me. It wouldn't have been a pretty sight... I vow to return the favor someday. If you'll allow me to fight by your side that is."

Aera held out her hand to Pravus and wore an uncharacteristic smile on her face. She had finally made a friend.

As he had stared at what had become of his shovel the world around him paused. He barely even registered what Myon was saying as she prepared to face down the cruel visage of his father. His mind had gone blank for all but a moment but in to him that moment was an eternity. Staring down at the headless shovel which served as the centerpiece of his guilt ridden existence he couldn't even form a thought to properly convey the emotion which struck him there. Too melancholy to be fury yet too hot and fiery to be despair. It could only be described as having his reason to exist and press onward struck down. As much as his desire of revenge filled him with wrath there was simply no point to it. What use would destroying this phantom be? Now that his shovel was destroyed he would still have failed his ancestors no matter how much revenge he exacts from it.

Before any real conscious thought could take place it had all vanished. The pedestal set out in the black void vanished around him leaving only the room he came into. This room had obviously suffered the wages of time which was probably why he had the room concealed in the illusion in the first place. That and of course to separate them from each other, all the other members now present along with him. He knew this was all an illusion and yet the level which it worked to try and confuse him into believing it was real ran deep. He was actually confused for a moment as he looked around, seeing each of the other members, most of which were still bound to their seats, their eyes following unseen images.

He turned his eyes back to his shovel, it's head still well secured to it's handle. If the intensity with which he stared at the shovels head actually generated heat of any kind he would of melted a greater portion of the Nameless headquarters with it. He placed his hand upon it, pressing to see if it really was there. The resistance his gloved hand was met with confirmed it's corporeality. It was all just an illusion...


“You are done. Welcome to the Nameless, I am Aizen."

He turned his dark gaze from his shovel up to the speaker. Aizen, the leader of the Nameless. Already did Pravus dislike the man. First he summoned him into some contest without any knowledge of what exactly he was being thrown into then an army attacks them. He would of bore no ill will over such an occurrence had Aizen not interfered in his duty by whisking him away from the field of battle, leaving the bodies of those who died unburied. Aizen had proven himself a character not to be trusted already and now he's gone even further to fan Pravus's ire.

His face could not be seen behind his mask which was probably for the best. His grimace pulled his mouth tightly shut, his brow well furrowed. He did not respond to Aizen's confirmation of their success. He would not speak to Aizen. There was nothing left that Aizen had to say to him which would agitate anything more than a nod of confirmation. Pravus's disdain for this person was great, that was true, but he would not allow his emotions to get the better of him. Pravus still had a shovel, he still had a purpose, a chance to redeem himself in the eyes of his ancestors and finish his duty. The bodies that still lay back upon the field he fought on needed to be buried. If he were to lash out or spurn Aizen then it was highly conceivable that he'd find his chance at getting back to the battlefield much less likely.


"That was quite an interview Master Aizen. If that was the entrance exam, then this guild must be fairly strong. What of the others?"

He looked over to see Aera free of the magic which entrapped them as well. He was puzzled by this girls attitude. Had she not just confronted her inner demons as I had? If she had then clearly they weren't very strong as she seems to be almost completely unphased by the test we were just put through. It was strange to him to say the least.

"Pravus, you're ok right? I want to thank you for stopping that shovel before it killed me. It wouldn't have been a pretty sight... I vow to return the favor someday. If you'll allow me to fight by your side that is."

She extended her hand to him. He nodded to her, accepting her offer to fight alongside him and shook her hand. Despite her bizarre absence of trauma she held no blame in what transpired. She had fought alongside him in the mental ring they were trapped in, just as much a prisoner as he was. He wasn't going to speak, even to her right now as any word spoken would be corrupted by his current state of mind. Though the injury was great, the damage this test had done to him was one of the few kinds that would heal in time. For now, a handshake would have to suffice.

As Ivan regained conciousness and his eyes adapted to the light in the room, he looked around to see the room where he had been interviewed by the guild leader. It was familiar in the sense that it had retained the same shape and size, however with how many there were in the room and the state of the room, it held no resemblance to the room he was previously in. He stared down at his hand, where midly the pain still lingered. It was attached to his arm and he could move it. Combined with the fact that the room has changed so much from what he remembered he came to believe that what just had happened was merely an illusion.

“You are done. Welcome to the Nameless, I am Aizen."

If Aizens previous words were to be trusted he would shortly explain the situation to them all. At last after almost a day in this world there would be someone to explain what was going on. He looked back at the other two who were moving in their seats, it seemed they had passed too. Beyond them there were a few who seemed to be held stationary, at least that's what he figured from the stif and somewhat uncomfortable way they were sitting. And then there was the woman from last night, sitting in a more relaxed fashion, but he couldn't feel the same as last night so Ivan figured she might not be here with her mind.

"That was quite an interview Master Aizen. If that was the entrance exam, then this guild must be fairly strong. What of the others?"

Ivan looked over to the swordswoman who spoke and let the words linger in his mind for a bit as she tried to connect with the masked man with whom she seemed to have been put in one illusion. As he gave the statement of the swordswoman more thought and made some assumptions based on what he had seen and experienced so far, he came to the realisation that things in all likelyhood weren't as they appeared to the girl.

"Somehow I think that isn't the case." He remarked to the girl as he turned his eyes back at Aizen. "Correct me if I am wrong, but that maze were we all were teleported to, that was supposed to be an entrance exam of sorts. But the attack changed things up and your hand was forced as to try and make the best out of the assests which were bold enough to go against the order to leave and managed surivive the attack. This, what we just experienced was merely a way of testing ones morals." He said while trying to switch his gaze from Aizen to the swordswoman and back, without looking like he was shaking his head.

"That and the fact that I don't scale myself highly as a mage, makes me believe that this all was more out of necessity than anything else. Afterall a strong guild has no need for a mage like myself, they would have gone for one of the arch mages that roam the same building, rather than the guy in charge of the libraries and labs."

“You are right Aera, to say the Nameless are strong, but our numbers are few. And, yes, Ivan, it is true that we are driven by necessity. But even in such times, I must know those brought into our fold are worthy to be in this guild,” the last word came out with a soft edge, as if he spoke of something much more personal than a league of soldiers.

A door opened and a small figure entered. He moved slowly, treating his limbs with care. It was the shuffling gate one might associate with the stiffness of old age, but this was a boy. He had dark brown skin, smooth and unwrinkled, black hair frizzy and long. Around his eyes were crows feet and deep black rings that spoke of a wearying amount of years. His eyes were a sharp black, bright and alert.

Behind him, holding his shoulder to guide him, was an old woman with skin the same dark brown. Her hair was long and white, and just as frizzy as the boy’s. Also like the boy, she had dark, watchful eyes.

She led him to a chair and helped him take a seat. His eyes were fixed on those still trapped inside their minds.

“Aizen,” the woman spoke, “he wished to be closer to them. One resets the magic, he wants to see how.”

The boy stared, intent on Keres, a frown pulling at the edges of his mouth.

“Very well.” Aizen cast his eyes across those still trapped inside the test, then he turned back to the three who had passed, “We are a poor guild. Our wealthy is long spent, our artifacts of power long lost to others.

“It was not always this way. We were strong once, maybe the strongest. I wish to see those days again,” his eyes lit bright white, then faded back to normal, “But I will not lie to you, it will be an uneasy battle. I would like to offer each of you a place in this guild, a chance to reclaim our glory. Here you would have a place, you would belong. Our resources would be open to you, those we have now, and those we will one day claim.

“Each of you were chosen because inside you is a spark of promise, a chance that you could become true champions in the Games. You have proven yourselves of superior character, and if you wish, you can call this your home.”

(Sorry...wrong page)

"Thank you Master. I will not let you down. I swear it upon the graves of my parents and that of my own!"

Aera may have seemed unphased, but one look into her eyes show the fear and anger she forcefully suppressing. She gives a slight bow upon finishing her sentence. Standing up, she picks up her previous Master's sword and attaches it to her side.

"M-Mistress! Your other sword!"

Myon comes flying over, having been absent for some reason before. She seemed to be carrying the shorter sword which is usually strapped to Aera's back. It's a wonder how a ghost can even carry it in the first place. Upon returning to Aera, she begins to strap it on to her.

"W-Wah!? Myon! I-I can do it myself!"

She ignored what was said to her and finished strapping it to Aera's back. Once finished she went back to floating beside Aera in her ghostly form.

"Master....Aizen is it? Two question if I may.... First...What is this spark you speak of? And second, what do we do now?"

Pravus did not speak.

He did have questions for the man but he did not ask them. There was a time to ask and a time to listen. If he did ask his question he might get an answer. Should he simply watch and listen he'd learn more. He'd ask his questions in time but he needed to familiarize himself with the world first, perhaps even gather power so the same traps he's run into thus far do not snare him a second time.


Myon's questions were quite valid. The first one to some more elusive extent while the other addressed a more immediate concern. He simply looked to Myon briefly before looking back to Aizen, awaiting his answer to her question. Ultimately it was Myon and Aera who he owed his allegiance. The rest, well, should it serve his ultimate purpose he would
fight alongside them too. He was only a grave tender though.

He had left the field of combat for the profession his father always wanted for him to be. This however was a chance to move on, to bury the dead in the hopes that someday someone may bury him. If he needed to wear the mask of a soldier once again in order to make that all happen he was able and ready to accept his new tasks.

The ghost who had just entered the room to hand Aera her 'other sword' as she refered to it asked Aizen a couple of questions that Ivan would have asked in one way or another. However he had many more, perhaps more than Aizen could answer. And it wouldn't be helpfull if they flooded Aizen with questions, nor would it be nice to do it. The other one in the room, who sat there silently, would most likely have questions of his own.

"These games you talked about, are they similar in construction to the maze? And what makes them so important that you'd make this shot in the dark, taking in a group of strangers from whatever existances we came from?" He asked more or less in addition to what the ghost had asked Aizen.

It seemed quite strange to him that 'games' like the maze would hold such an importance that they could bring a guild to glory or to whatever you'd want to call the state that he could see all around him. On Anracria there were games that perhaps could be seen as similar to the maze they were trown into, to name one there was the yearly siege of Ancestor Castle where two groups of poeple would fight eachother with fake weapons with wet dye on the striking surfaces and dye bomb tipped arrows. Of course that hardly compared to the maze, as from that event you'd go back home probably sore from getting hit and covered in dye, but very much alive.

River looked between the column of water, the drowning man inside and the steady flow of water, his soul being tugged towards the open white thread by the wails of dozens of dead families. He smiled sadly to himself and clicked his fingers, ice surging from the veins in his left arm and ebbing it into the air like strange blue blood, waving strangely in the air around him. He waved his arms across his chest once and the ice instantly solidified into a cage of ice-spikes and blades positioned around his now anchored arms.

"Not too long ago I would have fought anything to the last and then stepped through that portal....but if I do I'll go through on my own terms. Rain already buried me once, so when I set you free, I'm not going to leave anything to bury, and I'm done fighting for nothing but the cause of my survival...This is the end." He growled, clicking his fingers again, the dozens of ice spikes instantly impaling him in every part of his body, the spines sticking through his legs, his chest, his ear and even his hands. Hands that now lay cold and dead on the floor, severed from his body a long with the remainder of his arms up to the elbow, the Incubus roared in pure agony and stumbled, coughing and spluttering blood as the remaining ice anchored his legs so he could stand.

In a single moment a rush of pink-ish red energy roared out of every open wound and gap, within the miasma small star like specks were floating, the souls of the dead. He simply stood, shuddering and shaking as he bled and the storm of souls wavered behind him. He weakly snapped his slick fingers a few times, eventually creating a click between through the ever-flowing blood and finally sending the cloud onward through the portal to freedom. One small orb stayed behind, a black spined sphere that emanated a mixture of blinding cold and disgusting warmth as it slowly sunk itself back into the Incubus through a wound in his throat, closing it off slowly.

The ice anchoring him shattered and he faintly recalled the feeling of falling.
'Whatever that thing is, at least I have an audience for my end...I guess I won't get to pay Rain back until the after life...but I'll make sure I'm waiting with an ale and our friends..' He thought slowly, his mental functions dropping to almost nothing as the little black sprite pulsated in its new position at his heart, the blood around him flash-freezing and slowly creeping up his body, dropping his body to sub-zero temperatures and freezing his slowly dying form. With every inch of him that froze, another inch shattered and fell away, and he wouldn't want to leave this world any other way.

With no evidence that he ever existed.