[Fsh] Chapter 53: Fearshaper of Memory

Rael Revenant’s grave was the picture of serenity.

The first patriarch’s resting place was situated at the very edge of the plains. A steady stream of sand poured gently over the edge, into the void beyond them. The whisper of falling sand only added to the tranquillity of the location.

Above the graveyard, was a single tree with a wide canopy of glittering silver leaves. Golden moonlight filtered through the leaves to greet them, from the Inheritance’s single moon.

Arrayed in rows beneath the tree, were slabs of rectangular, white stone.

The graves of Rael’s revenants.

Shiver had lain on one such slab of stone. She snorted, catching herself before drifting off into a deep, uninterrupted sleep, lulled by the serenity of the grave.

Nightvipers, their quarry, floated ethereally in the air around them. They bore the same appearance as the one Shvier had seen burrowing into archaeologist’s Pevir’s neck, back in the Archcity of Fear.

It seemed like they wouldn’t have to go far to find their final objective in the Inheritance.

They were small, about the length of her palm, with the appearance of a truncated serpent. They floated languidly around the group, their bodies weaving gracefully through the air around them.

They had taken abundant precautions in their approach to the grave. None of them were intent on welcoming a parasitic guest that induced memory loss and puppeteered their bodies. To their surprise, the creatures were placid. Caledon had suspected that it was due to a lack of natural predators in the Inheritance.

As such, there was only a one small feature that undermined the peaceful atmosphere around them.

Azkhul Zahaard.

The leviathan that bordered the basin’s edge. Rael Revenant’s [mythic] guide in the flesh.

The sleeping dragon a short distance from the edge of the Inheritance was the size of a small city, its body curled around the circumference of the plains. It towered above them in the darkness beyond. From a distance, it had given them the impression that the sand basin was bordered by a mountain range that glittered in the dark, burnished gold of its ridged armour.

Azkhul was the first [mythic] guide they had glimpsed, bar whatever “Turkle” was – the name that had greeted them upon reaching the Dreadwood. Shiver’s eyes lingered over the familiar regal rat, Lord Quietus Vingrave, and wondered what his physical form in the realm of Dread would reveal.

“Despite how imposing his guide was, it seems like Rael was pretty… humble. I was expecting his grave to be something more…”

“Grand? Imposing?”

Despite their humility, the graves beneath the tree were bespoke, seemingly tailored to each of his revenants.

Shiver motioned for Caledon to join her, as she read the headstone of the grave on which she lay.

“Here lies Vindrick Veringold, an explorer of the unknown who strode in Dread, who baked stellar chocolate chip cookies to die for.”

Vale’s eyes twitched, as she read the second inscription aloud. It seemed that her predecessor had been particularly fond of his puns.

“Here lies Virrie Winterliliy, a dancer of frost who strode in Delirium, who played the violin so “beautifully” that she awakened countless Fears.”

Shiver snorted, as she accompanied Vale in their perusal of the graves. The vast tree above them, shifted in the light wind that greeted the plains. Birthed from the breaths of the [mythic] guide.

“You know…”

Caledon, Vale and Virgil looked towards Shiver, as she stared at the shifting silver leaves of the tree above them.

“It’s the people who don’t try to be imposing, that you should watch out for. They have nothing to prove. All substance.”

Shiver turned to them. Strangely, her expression was not painted with her usual glib smirk. When she looked at them, they found her bright cerulean eyes, now dim.

Rael Revenant lived a full life, surrounded by the ones that he loved, in this world of Insanity. He attained what countless elves before and after him failed.

A life well lived.

I envy him.

The realisation came as a shock to Shiver. She was beginning to understand Solastra Flora’s goal. Ushering an age of peace, concealing Fearshaping, and enshrouding it in mystery. From what she had learned of the descent so far, while the power it brought was significant, it brought in equal measure…

Suffering.

This was a Fearshaper who strode in the depths of death, surrounded by the ones that he loved.

“Do you see now, Vale. The true potential, of Fearshapers of death…”

The flames that occupied Lord Quietus’ hollow eyesockets were dim.

“The true terror of your Fear. For all the power that Rael Revenant had, even he was unable to evade death. Although… he lived a good life. Perhaps that is all we can strive for, when death comes for us all.”

Rael’s love for his revenants was clear in every line that he wrote. It spoke to his knowledge of them, not only of their powers and what they offered as Fearshapers, but to their quirks as people.

Yet for all his love for them, and his powers in Fearshaping, death had come for him, just as inevitably as it would come for them all.

“I think I found his headstone.”

They joined Vale where she stood at the base of the vast tree with glittering silver leaves. The headstone was plain white, no different from the headstones of the revenants that surrounded him. The lack of embellishment further spoke to Rael’s humility. He did not see himself as a man above his revenants.

Unlike his revenant’s headstones however, his was unadorned.

Unmarked.

This however, was not the result of humility.

Vale frowned.

“It seems like… whatever was written here was erased. Someone… didn’t want the words to reach us.”

They paused, staring at the pale stone in unison, trying in vain to decipher any clues that might assist them. Eventually, they relented, continuing to peruse the gravestones of his revenants.

“Caledon?”

He turned to Vale, who had strode up to him, breaking him free from his thoughts. His brow was furrowed, and his eyes lingered on the nightvipers that languidly floated around them, paying them little attention.

“Have you decided… whether you’ll absorb its alarum?”

“I… I suppose I don’t have much of a choice. If I narrow the dimensions of my Fear in my Trepidation, I could be constrained in Delirium, when we elaborate upon the foundations we lay.”

“Even if it means… having your own memories corrupted? Twisted?”

Caledon let out a heavy sigh. His lips turned into a slight smile, drawn back forcibly as his expression flickered.

“I’m going to do it. My mother…”

Vale laid a reassuring hand on his forearm for a moment. Caledon smiled appreciatively at the small gesture of kindness before continuing.

“She seemed absent when I saw her in Viridian. I can’t help but feel like her corruption is scarring her mind. Whatever the Highlord of Dreams is doing to subject her to his control… I can’t help but feel like gaining the ability to somehow subvert corruption extending to her memories would be key in restoring her. Still… I know it’s a long shot.  

Vale stepped away, receiving his words with a nod. Then she turned to the grave before them.

“My father told me about Rael’s revenants, you know? There was one in particular that I remembered. She was hard to forget, even amongst the unparalleled Fearshapers that numbered amongst his most trusted.”

“Who was she?”

Caledon watched as Vale’s pale lavender eyes began to glow. It was not merely the result of the soft, golden glow of the moon above them, making the sands behind them glitter.

Vale was using [soulsight of the witness]. She raise her palm, softly resting it on top of one of the gravestones.

“Reminisca Revenant, a kind soul who remembered treasured moments and inconsequential ones, with sass sufficient to fell Dreadwalkers with a gaze.”

Vale turned to Caledon with a smile.

From both the description that adorned the headstone and the name of the elf as well. That latter of which speaking to both her nature as an orphan, and the shape of her Fear.

“She’s a Fearshaper of memory.”

Caledon’s heart was caught in his throat. A miraculous, impossible solution presented itself. Who better, to mitigate the effects of corruption than an Fearshaper whose object of their Fear was memory itself.

“Vale, I—”

“I can still see her soul… she longs for something more. Triol and Bladey both yearn for redemption, and she…”

Caledon’s breath caught as he watched her eyes widen.

Her face flickered into an expression of horror. Shiver rose from where she had been lying down, frowning as she noticed the girl’s alarm.

“She’s…”

Shiver likely shook her by the shoulders, as the silence drew on.

“What is it, Vale? Is something wrong?”

Vale just wordlessly stretched her hand outwards, towards the grave. Shiver and Caledon backed away, seeing the girl’s fervour as her eyebrows arched in concentration.

[Soul restoration]

They watched as pale grey stone covered the graves, gently parted, when pushed from below. As if designed to permit the revenant within a means to return to the world around them.

A diminutive skeleton rose, even as Vale fell to the ground, panting from exhaustion. It seemed like raising the revenant had drained her significantly, and she wobbled as she struggled to steady herself.

Then Caledon and Shiver saw what had caused Vale so much concern.

A small head emerged from the grave, as the skeleton within peeked curiously outwards at the group of them crowded around its grave.

Reminisca Revenant was a child.

From her diminutive stature, she couldn’t have been older than ten years of age.

Vale stumbled, caught by Shiver, as her vision gradually steadied from the effort. The screams of the dead that echoed throughout her Fearcore had subsided, and she was greeted with silence – her Alarum spent entirely.

Each new revenant that she obtained was allocated a subset of her Alarum. With the addition of Reminisca, she had reached her limit of revenants she could raise concurrently.

For now.

Then, as her eyes passed over her newest revenant, her gaze fell, her lips drawn tightly.

“Aww she’s adorable. You’re puny.”

Shiver smiled at the girl as she raised both of her arms above her head in their direction.

“Are you saying hi? Princess, are you able to communicate with the dead yet?”

They stared in awe, as their eyes fixed on two, small, middle fingers, gleaming ivory that rose into the air, unaccompanied by other digits.

The girl had flicked them off.

“Uh…”

They watched as she climbed back into her tomb and lay down once more.  

“Heh. That’s what mini me would do… I like her already. I guess her royal highness doesn’t want to be disturbed.  just as badly as you. Oh well, off we go then!”

Shiver wore a look of mischief as she deliberately projected her voice such that it echoed throughout the graveyard around them. They watched in unison as the skeleton’s head peeked out from where she had lain down. Upon seeing them still looking in her direction… the head retreated.

Caledon returned his gaze to Vale. For a moment, he was wordless, staring at the girl as she fidgeted with her scythe.

“Vale… I-“

“If you still decide to fell a nightviper… at least now, we may have a means of helping you. It’s isn’t a guarantee... far from it. But perhaps… with a bit of luck, she’ll be able to mitigate the symptoms of your Fear, at least those relating to memory. We still don’t know the scope of her Fearshaping.”

Vale smiled, as the girl peeked outwards again. This time, Vale gave her a small wave.

“Thank you. I—”

Vale smiled at him, waving off the words as they emerged from the young lord’s mouth in a wobble. He had clearly been torn about his decision, but seeing as he had made up his mind…

This was the least she could try.

They watched as the girl reluctantly rose from her tomb, walking towards them with a shy hunch.

“Don’t thank me, Caledon. Thank her. Perhaps… she can help both of us. We all have memories we would rather be free from.”

Vale watched as Shiver mirrordanced behind the girl to ineffectively tickle the skeleton.

Caledon turned his head towards the nightvipers. Gaining an invocation from a creature that twisted memories, corrupting them… it would could leave him unable to trust both his memories and his perception both. Left utterly at the mercy of his companions, apt to be taken advantage of… until he reached Serenity, that was. He hadn’t forgotten the way in which Triol had manipulated Pevir, taking advantage of the man’s openness and kindness.

The question that remained was to what extent he would put his faith in them.

Caledon’s answer was delivered in the flash of his Phobia. The Alarum effortlessly carving itself across his Fearcore, broaching a peripheral dimension to his Fear, albeit one closely linked to corruption.

Memory.

[Amnesia of the nightviper]

Part of him had hoped that even with the tranquillity withdrawals, he would encounter some difficulty in incorporating the nightviper’s Alarum, such that he would be precluded from absorbing it.

The ease with which his Fearcore eagerly consumed it, indicated otherwise.

---

Unbeknownst to him, an eyeball appeared in a small flash of golden flame, high above him. Draconic winds flapped in the soft breath of the [mythic] guide bordering the circular plains of sand.

Zel’s singular eye, with its golden iris, lingered on his charge. Fixing Caledon, with its singular gaze.

Few beings surprised Zel, a [mythic] guide of corruption of the same stature of the leviathan that bordered them.

Fewer still gained his respect.

Azkhul Zahaard, Rael Revenant’s [mythic] guide ,was one of them, a soul with a similar gravity to his own. The leviathan was undoubtedly deserving of his respect, as he watched over his Fearshaper’s Inheritance in death.

Zel’s gaze lingered on his charge, far below them, who had embraced the Trepidation that the nightviper’s Alarum would bring. Trepidation, that would blossom into terrors incomprehensible, brought by the dimension of his Fear he knowingly expanded. The avenues of terror he invited, as he walked his Fearpath to reclaim his mother.

Elves would never be deserving of the power and terror that corruption was capable of. It was a foundational belief of his that would never be shaken.

Fearshapers would never comprehend the sacrifices they had suffered, to obtain the same. The pain and agony that corruption brought, and the cost for ascending to its very peak, where he once stood.

The guide focused his gaze on his Fearshaper below him.

An ugly stain that acted as a reminder of the hypocrisy and arrogance of a being that embodied corruption. Even before receiving Vale’s assistance, Caledon’s resolve, to broaden and stretch the dimensions of his Fear in terrifying ways could not be ignored.

For all of Caledon Brimstone’s deficiencies, his greatest was that he was a contradiction to the rule.

No matter how hard Zel tried to despise him, think him unworthy…

He failed to do so.

For he was a [mythic] guide, with a soul of the similar scope to the sleeping leviathan of death.

A master of corruption, who could not lie to himself.

---

They watched in unison as Virgil spoke to Highlady Solastra in the distance. Few things had troubled their stoic Navigator. The closest he had come to panic had been when his guide Cygni fell into the clutches of the vampress.

The worry, plain on his face, gave them all pause.

A voice emerged from above them, through a [shard of the frostwolf] that Shiver had linked with [mirrordance of the spiritfox]. No doubt Virgil was aware that Shiver was eavesdropping on his conversation, but the man was too engrossed to care.

“Send them to their final inheritances. Serevim, Clona and Rathos are obtaining Vale’s final invocation. You will need to accelerate your schedule and rendezvous with them.”

“Highlady, surely it would be prudent to allow them their foray through the Stonehollow first-“

“There is no time. Both grow incensed. Move, now.”

Shiver’s eyes narrowed, even as she held a closed fist high above her head, having “stolen” Remy – the Fearshaper of memory’s - nose. The poor girl was clutching desperately at her skull, terrified that Shiver had appropriated it.

Vale laid a soft hand on Caledon’s arm, as the lord came to terms with the sacrifice he had made. He flinched at the touch of her arm, relaxing after a moment.

Virgil strode through a tear back to them.

“You heard her, we have to move. What is the state of your Fearcores?”

They exchanged a glance. Shiver spoke for the trio.

“Mine is almost material. I feel like I could easily consolidate mine at any moment. That it might consolidate, if I draw in any other invocations.”

The others nodded in agreement, affirming Shiver’s words.

Virgil nodded solemnly.

“Try your best to refrain from falling to the temptation. You can stretch yourself much more than you think. It’s time to gain your very final invocations. Shiver – you’ll be heading to Iltheria. Vale and Caledon, I’ll be taking you elsewhere.”

“Where’s our next destination?”

Caledon gestured to Vale, and they watched in confusion as Virgil’s eyes darkened.

He didn’t answer.

Instead, Virgil wordlessly summoned his Phobia, the curving greatsword of stars, to part another tear in reality, leading to their next destination.

Iltheria, the ice glades.

---

As the group stepped through the portal, leaving behind the serene, sandy landscape…

The mountains bordering Rael’s rest shifted.

Azkhul Zahaard opened eyes of brilliant gold, that shone with soulsight. Its gaze fell on its companion and dear friend’s resting place.

It passed its gaze over the graves of Rael’s revenants.

Lights of every colour flickered into existence. The revenants’ souls, all preserved, save for one – Rael Revenant himself.

While to Vale, the graves had appeared bereft of other souls, she was ignorant to one small fact.

Rael’s revenants possessed significant control over their own souls. They were not beholden to the whims of Fearshapers of death. They were not petty undead to be raised at the convenience of others, dispossessed of their own autonomy.

Those with the honour of awakening them did not choose their revenant.

Their revenant chose them.

Azkhul Zahaard closed his eyes, reminiscing of warm days passed.

The [mythic] guide smiled, thinking of the warm days to come for the youngest of their family.

Who had finally found herself a new home.