Chapter II: The Boy who fell from the Stars

A whisper – soft and sweet – comes down gracefully, oscillating and washing away my long hair within the silent and distant horizon. And as the wind comes down, glistering petals – of an ever so beautiful pink – befall me, veiling my face and clothes within a lifeless bouquet.

Hereafter, with one of my finger, I caress my rosy lips, from one side to the other – and with it, a pretty little smile arises.

And so, I finally turn my gaze towards the transparent reflection laying before me – flowing from an ever so serene and crystalline liquid – and thus a silhouette, cute and shining, takes shape: mine.

From it, a short and beautiful boy, graced with delicate and slender features of white – outlining well defined curves – emerges. Seemingly, he is host to long and silky hair – forming a ponytail from his left side – of a lustrous rose colour; whereas his eyes embellished with long eyelashes – of the same pretty shade – are enshrouded within a cold abyss.

The boy simply wears a white shirt – completed with a sapphire coloured string tie – alongside a navy blue cloak adorned with a hood, which then turns towards a darker shade of purple at its tails end. What’s more, he is clothed with dark blue trousers, black boots and silky dark gloves.

A relatively short bow can be perceived encased within a black leather sheath on his waist, a quiver on the other side; next to his hip, a rapier is wrapped within a low hanger. Furthermore, on his left tight, two daggers are strapped on what seems to be a black garter. And finally, multiple pouches are closely attached to his belt, surely containing a plethora of trinkets.

Promptly, I proudly depose my hand upon my torso at this sight.

Aren’t I cute?

Yet, my mind still has a hard time accustoming itself to this new body, even after fourteen long years; maybe the rugged and bloodied look I harboured back then is a bit too engrained within me…

So very deeply, I inhale and exhale before methodically washing my face. And then, as I raise my head up, I finally set my eyes upon this fantasy world’s landscapes.

And so, ruins, vast – of a seemingly past age – stand tall over the horizon; built of stone to last for all eternity, yet here they are, lying in decay, in rot, robbed of its old pristine colours, forgotten by all. Moreover, be it over these ruins or be it in the verdant nature itself, flowers – fragile and delicate – entomb all with its abnormal size.

On the surface, I suppose that this fantasy world was once beset with a calamity, which in turn could explain this post-apocalyptic view. But what exactly?

One way or the other, these flowers appear deeply unsettling and suspicious; they are worth investigating later on.

Without waiting anymore, I finally take my first step outside the village, then a second step, a third and another, before walking towards the unknown – never looking back.

So, it begins…

I then outline my lips, so as to form a little new smile.

“Farewell Armelys, the hometown of Athisia, my hometown.”

-x-

First thing first, I would like to confirm the state of the surrounding wildlife, as to ensure a continued supply of food; with my current frame, I could unfortunately not afford to pack many rations from the village.

Therefore, I climb up a tree seemingly unique to this world as its foliage is of purple colour, like all the other nearby trees; and interestingly enough, it emits small lights of the same shade alongside a lavender scent.

Then, with one last push, I finally arrive at the top – now lying in wait as I crouch down.

Accordingly, minutes pass on, quietly yet quickly. But finally, a loud noise – coming from the ground – resonates throughout the forest; and just as quickly, something reveals itself.

Oh my…

A sizeable and tall creature, covered from head to toes in flowers, of violet hue, stands just below. In appearance, I would describe it as an eight legged beast, with protruding horns all over its body, supplemented by a vertically raised tail – which then forms what looks like to be a scythe; as for its face, it is prominent, sticking out from the rest, and is seemingly defined by two large eyeballs and an extended tongue, so very wet and ravenous. Fortunately for me, the creature seems quite slow, as it takes giant steps after giant steps.

As for the other animals, I can perceive multiple creatures, quite similar to what could be found on Earth, with notably deer, fox, squirrel and so on – although a bit more flowery in their presentation. Nevertheless, food and water won’t be any more lacking from now on.

What should I do?

Fighting that beast is out of the question of course: too many variables and unknowns. That tongue and tail of his seem to be the most dangerous; but trapped, the creature would be rendered utterly powerless; nonetheless, it could still hide a trump card right under my thumb. So…

For the time being, I opt to once again scrutinise the blue horizon – under the auspices of gold and amber – and so, a tall structure catches my eyes. Outwardly, a soaring high tower of silver – surprisingly coated with an unblemished white – shines afar, overlooking the amethyst coloured forest from a hill.

I circle my lips with a finger before letting a smile emerge.

-x-

After some time, maybe one hour or two – as the golden radiance bloomed higher and higher – I finally reached the base of the hill. Thankfully, I did not discover any new scythe beast – let’s call it [Lizard Reaper] for now – on my way.

Anyways, the hill before me isn’t too steep, making it easy to climb. And as such, the dazzling silvery tower finally greets me back, with its grandiose entrance – made out of arches and columns, all harbouring intricate symbols upon it – and its multiple stained-glass windows, of purple and pink hue. No other entrances could be seen, at least to the naked eyes.

Adjacent to the tower lies some other ruins, all languishing upon the ground, upon countless and countless piles of rubbles – all covered within luxuriant flowers and vegetation.

All of this means that the tower was deemed important enough to be protected in this way. How? By Magic surely… if it even exists in the first place?

Before entering, I sneakily ready my dagger within my right hand. Then, with the other hand, I propel a large rock inside – assessing the presence of any traps. Yet, nothing seems to have been triggered – luckily or not for me.

Thus, as always, I pamper my lips, as to let out a smile. Then, with accrued vigilance, I ultimately enter whilst remaining close enough to the walls – trying to avoid a blind spot. Right after, I swiftly inspect the entrance’s grounds, tapping it from right to left. But in the end, nothing happens.

Then, it won’t close shut on me when inside.

The interior, of immaculate white – ever so illuminated by a rosé splendour – could be described as empty, if not for a few chairs, tables, boards, shelves, and blank scrolls upon the ground here and there. What’s more, no other floors could be distinguished despite the tower’s height.

Of course, it would have been looted beforehand. As for the other floors, I guess that they are hidden behind some sort of illusionary mechanism.

And so very appropriately and accordingly, a symbol – taking the shape of a star – of an ever shining gold brilliance is apposed upon the very centre of the floor.

Thus, I approach it, before tapping every single spot of its existence – left and right, corner to corner. Yet, it yields me no result: no echoing sound, nor any activating mechanism.

Then, the path to activation should lie within the room itself, maybe a puzzle, something to rearrange or something to push.

Yet— so very abruptly, a boy falls from the upper floor, and just as quickly, he lands upon me.

Hastily, I put myself back up, before setting my sight upon the boy before me. Pretty short hair of purple and radiant golden eyes – of a peculiar star formation – define the strange boy that just fell. With slim and graceful features – so very similar to the elegance of a snowflake – the boy bestirs himself with a double breasted white military uniform, a purple cape, alongside pure silver white trousers and black boots.

Upon which, I finally let my words be heard for the very first time to the outside world: “Boy, are you alright?”

Yet, my words couldn’t but to contemplate solitude, as the purple-haired boy simply collapses upon the cold unsavoury floor. And at once, a vermeil liquid spills out, flowing down and down upon the star symbol; and soon, a thick smell of iron adorned with a pleasant sweetness permeates the room.

Hereupon, with a simple finger, I instinctively envelop my lips from east to west; from it, a new smile is born. Yet, quite surprisingly, the taste of metal pours itself down to my very buds. So, my eyes apposes itself upon my gloves and they couldn’t help but remark their unusual scarlet quality; the same is also true for my lips.

Yet, oddly enough, my instincts couldn’t refrain from licking off my own left glove, revelling in this sweet and so very addicting liquid.

His blood seems special: maybe it is a question of lineage, or of an otherworldly power. Nevertheless, it means that keeping him alive is worth it.

Hence, I take his bloodied body within my arms before putting him down in a relatively clear space. Then, with dexterity and hurry, I remove his clothes one by one – revealing in turn multiple layers of bandages, all enveloped in blood.

Thus, I throw away my left glove, before renewing it. Then, I take out every single one of his bandages – who were too light and too superficial to be any use – in preparation for new and thicker ones, all stemming from my pouches.

Cleaning him up will have to wait, stopping the hemorrhage takes priority.

Right after, I wrap forcefully a cloth around his shoulder with my right hand, whereas with my left one, I apply pressure upon his tight – the areas suffering the most from bleeding. Pressing on and on, I exert the most of my force, up to the point I couldn’t feel my very own hands.

Quickly enough, after some fifteen seconds, the bleeding rescinds itself. So once again, I change his bandages all the while cleaning him up with a small amount of alcohol.

And so, I let out a sigh as I tiredly sit down upon the floor. I then throw away both of my gloves before palping my lips, so much so as to let a smile appear.

Ah, it would have been easier with my old body.

But then, surprisingly, the boy fleetingly grips my hand – and with blurry yet hopeful eyes – he lets out a sweet murmur: “Di- d we find the [Witch of Tragedy]…?”

And as soon as these words were out, the boy once again loses consciousness.