Chasing Shadows

(9:3:6)

He couldn’t see, only hear.

The faint howling of wind whistling through broken gaps reached Seih’s ears—the only thing that reached his ears. His feet moved, yet never seemed to run into anything, only a sickening crunch echoing off silent, unseen walls with every step.

Where am I...?

A faint glow flickered into life to etch out the ragged edges of a crumbling wall, illuminating the shadows.

He stumbled forward, half-seen lumps and piles melting away before him, somehow never tripping him up. Something odd. There was something odd about it, but he couldn’t catch it before it scattered away on the dead air. Somewhere, the wind howled, but he couldn’t feel it.

He reached after that faint candlelight, but it always skittered just out of sight, disappearing around twisted corners and the faint imprints of columns wreathed in dead, browned vines. He thought he saw— Its light didn’t quite light everything up, but in the corners of his eyes—

He fixed his gaze on that faint glimmer, desperately trying not to see twisted faces and skeletal hands in the flickering shadows.

Why wouldn’t it wait? No matter how fast he moved, he couldn’t catch up to it. The thought that he’d be left in the darkness again if he didn’t hurry gnawed at the back of his mind, driving him to claw at the stone, trying to drive forward limbs that moved as if on ice, stuck in thick, clinging mud.

And all he could feel were a pile of bones scattering under his feet like sand, dark shadows chasing at the back of his neck, a cold chill prickling up his spine.

“Wait—!”

The light flickered out, and hands closed around his neck.

He jolted, a choked cry dying in the back of his throat as his eyes flew open and the quiet dimness of his bed chamber greeted him.

For a long moment he just lay there, cold hand pressed against the back of his neck to drive away the prickles pimpling at his skin, fingers trembling faintly. He could still feel it. He could feel a shadow that wasn’t there just over his shoulder, just out of reach, no matter how hard he looked or how far he twisted.

You’re being irrational. He squeezed his eyes shut, pushing himself up and burying his head in his hands with a shuddering sigh. You’re being irrational.

Why was he having these dreams? There was no reason for it. He’d never had dreams like this, if he had them at all, and now every other night he woke up with wisps of half-remembered darkness and ruins—

He scraped his fingers through his hair until they met at the back of his neck, letting his head rest between his knees, feeling the steadier thud of his heart beat at the base of his throat.

It seemed he’d gone beyond just a “dream”, this time.

He wouldn’t be able to sleep any time soon with that haunting the space behind his eyelids, in any case. Rolling onto his feet, he snatched up his soulbind crown and headed for the living room, slipping it on without care or ceremony as he went.

Damor was asleep at this time of night in the servants’ quarters, and whatever Divinations were out and about wouldn’t question him. He tapped at the conduit control on the wall as he stepped into the living room, the spark of his soul’s aura bringing the lights embedded in the ceiling and the latticework of beams half-closing off the kitchen to a soft nighttime glow. If he’d wanted anything brighter, he would’ve had to light the candle-cage, but this was all he needed for now.

Letting out a long breath, he sat at the extendable dining table, resting his arms on the polished wood, closing his eyes and mentally reaching for—

“Does my master require anything?”

He opened them again to see Voice gazing steadily at him from the woven archway to the kitchen, and offered him a tired smile. “No, thank you, Voice.”

The Divination dipped his head. “As my master wishes.”

“You could just call me my name.” He exhaled quietly. “It’s too early for the formality.”

That made the Divination stare at him for just half a moment longer than usual, head slightly tilted, the glow of his silver eyes only slightly visible in the dimness. “Of course, Seih.”

He quirked an eyebrow, smiling slightly. A part of him hadn’t expected him to take to it so readily. Maybe it was too early for him, too. “That’s better. If I need you I’ll call.”

He only waited for the acknowledging dip of the other’s head before closing his eyes again and reaching through his crown for Soulspace, the dreamlike world moulding itself around him and setting him gently on a paved street. The flow of other souls brushed past him as he made his way to the familiar sight of the Hub and pushed through the door.

Warmth and light greeted him immediately, the noise drowning out the whispers of a whistling breeze still haunting the back of his mind. He just stood there for a moment next to the door, in the shadow of the bushy ivy curling around the frame, watching as people laughed and talked, centre stage occupied by a quieter debate about nothing more than the quality of certain fabric weavings.

For once, everything else felt... distant. The rumblings in Loh, the prophecy—it was as if someone had wound back time to put them before the beginning of that year. Brei would have liked the ongoing discussion. It looked like Blassin might have invited one of the other rooms for it—he thought he recognised the lead woman from the one time Brei had dragged him along to the group she usually spent time with, and had promptly given up on ever inviting him to again.

He wasn’t the only one watching, though.

As his gaze drifted over the rest of the room, it caught on a familiar fellow soulwalker, barely visible, up on the viewing balcony above, not quite hidden by the others viewing and listening to the discussion. His glowing, golden eyes stood out the most, watching from beneath his wild curly hair.

That was one indication that he really hadn’t gone back in time. Why did none of us ever see him here, before?

He would try drifting through the crowd and making his way up a materialising set of stairs, but he had a feeling the other would see him long before he managed to reach him, and disappear.

Much like last time, though, before he could weigh the scales and try to put the balance in his favour, the soulwalker spotted him. And he had to admit that yellow, unblinking stare was more than just a little unnerving.

He sighed silently to himself and offered a smile and a tap to his forehead in greeting, half-expecting the other to turn and vanish somewhere without a response.

Instead, his gaze narrowed, simply regarding Seih for a long moment. Before turning with a meaningful glance and stepping out of sight.

Well... that was new.

Does he actually want me to follow him? Seih frowned slightly, moving towards the edge of the room and the way up to the second floor despite his sudden misgivings, a faint chill he’d nearly forgotten about ghosting across the hairs on the back of his neck.

It turned out he didn’t need to go far. As soon as he reached the top, a steady golden gaze pinned him to the wall, standing in the shadow of the vines twining around the supports pushing through the balcony and to the ceiling.

|You want to know how I gained my information,| the other prompted.

Likes to get to the point, doesn’t he? The tension in his muscles eased slightly, and he gave him a nod. |You seem to have access to things no one else does.|

|They’re easy to access if you care enough to look.| The other tilted his head slightly, unblinking. |If you want to find it for yourself, I would suggest the archives. Ask Tozu, he oversees the kind of information you’re looking for.|

|Thanks.| The kind of information he was looking for.... He had a bad feeling about this. As the other turned to go, obviously seeing no point in hanging around, he stepped forward, catching his attention again. |Wait, if you’re willing to stay in contact... can I have your name?|

The other studied him, his face too young and his gaze too old. |Amotas.|

This time, when he left abruptly without leaving any room for comment, Seih didn’t try to stop him. Amotas. That was a name from either Arathnea or the eastern end of Coletti—the region also known as the Basket that sat above Firemount and to the southeast of Aphox and Loh.

He turned to look down at centre stage, his mind elsewhere. Perhaps it was time to look at the archives.

And see where his nightmares came from.