Chapitre 76: Flowers of Ice
*ok, my sleep is screwing me over, but here I am trying to set myself back on track with the chapters. Please enjoy, everyone. Peace out and Deus vult.*
Mark's eyes opened, only to find himself in a dark void, lacking sense of up and down, left and right, having just himself as a compass. The more he tried to squirm around in the shapeless void, the more he could lose any idea of direction.
"Where am I? This place again?"
He twirled around, noticing a white dot moving around like crazy within the distance, as if circling him like a predator ready to grab the poor, clueless prey. He had seen that light before, brief as it was, but he did recall it. Among the countless shadows that tormented him, there was one with a flicker of life to it.
"What are you?" he shouted, his voice echoing in the hollow darkness.
"What am I? That's a good question that I won't answer," it replied, right next to him. He turned to the side, but nothing, yet the light was across him. Again, only for it to be on the other side. No matter how fast he turned his head, nothing came of it until the white flicker stopped before him.
Mark simply stared at it. The dim light was the only thing outlining the creature's features. It was shaped like a human, albeit without features like a sketch on a canvas. The glowing orb was apparently its eye or something, since it resided in the specific spot where the right eye socket would be. It held a mouth, but it was barely visible thanks to the body being one uniform material, dark like the world around, outlined weakly by its own eye.
"You sure love staring, don't you?" it asked firmly, not harboring any visible malice. For Mark, it was worse than an enemy, since those who hide their intentions to that extent are monsters in hiding, waiting for the right moment to jump.
"Now, don't worry... if I wanted you dead, I could have easily snapped my fingers and Penacony would have been gone."
Mark blinked once, bewildered. A snap of the thing's fingers.
"Seriously... what the fuck are you?" he muttered, trying to comprehend what was before him.
"Me? Let's just say I'm the shadow of a specific man, one that was lost by his own choice. If you wish for a name..." it mused, humming as it rubbed its chin in thought, staring around. "Meritas... that's the name I'm looking for."
Mark raised a brow, whispering so as to commit it to memory.
"Meritas... so that's the name of the insane creature who says it can blow up a planet with a snap of its fingers."
Meritas laughed, shaking his head.
"Well now, let's just say I'm not joking, but I don't think I should go too far to explain things. You'll have your time to comprehend more, since I might be paying you another visit."
Mark sighed, already annoyed by the enigmatic discussion, but he did keep his mouth shut since he always did the same with the other members of the Astral Express, dropping breadcrumbs and ideas without giving anything more than hints. Thus, for a moment, he kept thinking, preparing himself.
"You're the one who made that Stellaron, right?"
Meritas stared right into his soul, that damned white eye glowing like it could pierce through him.
"Bingo. I'm the one who made it, so that alone should give you a clue of my powers. I can intervene, but too much can be detrimental. You don't have the power needed to shoulder such a burden, and I don't wish to interfere more than this, because I got my own plans."
Mark just looked at it, gritting his teeth a little as he tried, in vain, to put together the scarce bits of valuable information.
"Don't try to look too much into me. You won't get anything useful. You wouldn't understand much even if I did say it outright. For now, just know that the laws of the worlds keep me limited."
Again, 'laws of the world' or whatever terms he's used that only made him question more. Part of Mark, the one that was into lore and fictional information, did manage to create a quick explanation of sorts, but it would prove futile with that being in front of him. Thus, he chose to ask just one simple thing.
"What do you want from me?"
Silence settled comfortably, broken only by Meritas' soft hums, the sound eerily tranquil.
"What do I want? For you to reach your selfish ambition, that's what. Your Will... remember... can be shaped. You just need to understand it."
"What do you mean by shaped? Hell, what am I supposed to understand from this?"
Meritas sighed, shaking his head.
"You need to learn it yourself. Wake up first... for good..."
Thus, Meritas made himself unseen in the darkness around, leaving Mark alone. In the lightless space, he could only twist and turn, just like the words did in his mind. His Will had to be shaped... he still didn't really get it. Of course, the first thought was that of the Sword of Will, but he could shape it... at least partially.
"Maybe I have to fully make it manifest without a vessel... how, tho? I've tried all I could think of..."
He sighed, feeling as his eyes closed, covered by heavy eyelids. His body floated, then it shook lightly, until he opened his eyes.
Around him, the scenery was dull, lacking life. Compared to Penacony, the place was a post-war country left to rot away in whatever it could do to bring itself up. No flashy lights, no colors scattered around, just some posters with Clockie that reminded him of war propaganda. He didn't waste much time, nor did he care about the people looking his way all around.
His steps were heavy, accentuated by the pressure that his mind still felt, its wish to split still persistent. His coat rustled softly with each step that took him further into the supposed city, where people did live in the shadow of the Dream –part of it, but not the center area, just... a sad, grim place. Yet, there was light there—light found in the people. He did recall most things needed, so he went ahead, unsure if he'd meet his companions or anyone else.
With hard-pressed steps and shattered memories flooding in from all sides, he made his way around until he found Robin singing with a group of four children and an elderly lady who stood by their side, watching with a big smile. His headache intensified as their story came to mind—a tiny detail that didn't carry that much weight, and yet it did cling to him.
Rather than interrupting, he watched from the side, his appearance a tiny bit threatening for the old lady, who looked at him with a bit of a worried gaze, but he simply offered a tiny smile and nodded, watching the show go on, listening to the kids sing as Robin guided them, singing along. Her voice was much better, meaning that Harmony was attuned even better with the hidden dream within a dream, Dreamflux Reef.
Bit by bit, the song came to an end, and Mark applauded softly, smiling as he nodded.
"Bravo. Beautiful choir you've got there," he said softly, and Robin turned around, smiling as she saw him.
"Hey, Mister Handsome. What are you doing here?"
He chuckled a bit, shaking his head softly as he stepped closer.
"Just call me Mark, cuz I have a name that I like. So, how's it going with the little ones?"
His steps took him closer and closer, legs bending to lower him to the same eye level. He gave the kids some gentle head pats, smiling to himself. The older lady to the side seemed to have relaxed a little as she took notice of his nature—completely opposite to how he looked. The cold iron-clad arm seemed nothing more than decoration.
Tiny sparks of light traveled down his fingertips with each touch, and he simply smiled to himself, whispering soft words of thanks.
"So," he said, standing back up. "I guess you're here after meddling a little too much into the whole business of The Family, right, Robin?"
She looked a bit grim, but she did approve of his words with a resolute expression.
"Sadly, yes, that is the case. My search led me here."
He nodded, smiling a little.
"You're one bold lady, aren't you? Not afraid to take the initiative when needed. You also seem to care for the people and take your time helping, lending a hand... a true light in the darkness," he mused softly, almost whispering the words. She looked at him with a bit of a worried expression, but he simply shook his head lightly.
"Please, keep going. I'm sure my friends will arrive here sooner or later. Do meet up with them."
As he turned to leave, he made sure to softly pat the lady on the shoulder, her old, slightly bent frame bearing more grace and kindness than many he knew, himself included. Soft sparks traveled along his hand once more.
"Thank you for caring for the little ones. That's a benevolent act."
Robin looked at him as he walked, noticing how heavy his steps seemed. She followed him, quickening her pace to reach his side.
"Mark, are you alright?"
He met her gaze with tired eyes, offering a tiny smile.
"I'm fine," he said, clearly not looking fine.
She huffed a little, trying to reach out, but he simply turned to leave once more.
"Sorry, Robin, but I have some things to deal with."
She was left there, looking at him, watching the man depart, his steps thudding against the ground with a satisfying sound.
He picked up the pace, walking to the one area that held his interest first, a simple wish on his side to go and see it with his own eyes. Thus, the three stones placated with the names of the old members of the same Astral Express that he himself has now become a part of rested before him. He held his palms together, offering a prayer for those who had long passed, then squatted down, looking closer at the cold stones.
"Heh, this is where we all end, isn't it? Some would argue about life's purpose, just like Aventurine tried with Acheron, but... that's not the thing. Fate is but a farce, a silly little lie... we have choices, we have freedom... and oftentimes, we willingly ruin it by choosing the allure of the 'sweet dream', drowning in it..."
He placed his hand on the ground, a thin trail of ice spreading out, creating beautiful flowers on each memorial stone.
"This is my own homage to you, who had blazed the same trail before... may your rest be peaceful, all of you..."
He stood up and simply stared down at his work, trying to figure out how long the flowers would last for. It was ice, normal one. He didn't have a special kind like March, thus they could melt... unless the dream itself chose to respect his wish and keep them forever.
His steps guided him back and about, away from the spot and on to where Gallagher would meet Sunday. The puzzle called 'Penacony' was slowly coming together, with each piece finding its place. A tale of betrayal from one unknown side. Was it The Watchmaker or The Family? That was the last detail that floated out right a few touches away from his grasp.
Head held down, he drowned in thoughts, sinking deeper and deeper into his own lacking understanding of the situation, building time and time again upon the same blocks of information that rested in his head. It was a soft voice that made him snap out of it.
"Mark, is that you?"
He looked to the side, noticing none other than Firefly on her way to the same destination. She did separate from the others to go look for Gallagher, so it made sense that they met. She must have been busy waking up the others, and so he had a decent head start.
"In flesh and bone, Firefly... or whatever we're made off in this stupid dream."
She held his gaze, the determination burning softly beneath the soft eyes that looked at him. The gentler she seems, the fiercer her drive.
"Let's go. We have a lot to discuss, I'd say," he mused, his words soft and a touch fatigued.
"Yes, we do have some things to talk about."
They kept going until Mark had Sunday in range, the two exchanging silent words with nothing but pure glances. Memories tried to flood his mind, as if they were already his from the get-to, but another side of him kept them hidden away.
"I guess we have the esteemed Mister Sunday here, and the hound himself, Gallagher. Let's go, shall we?"
He gave both of them a light slap on the back as he walked in the middle.
"Ouch! What was that for? It felt off. Who even are you?" said Gallagher, trying to get over the weird sensation. Mark chuckled, while Sunday said nothing, trying to understand if Mark was playing at something—which he wasn't.
"Oh, I'm just a simple member of the Astral Express Crew. Name's Mark. Don't mind me, Mister Sunday here can surely credit this bit of information."
As if with reluctance, he sighed, nodding.
"Indeed, he is with the Astral Express."
Gallagher nodded, scanning Mark once more while Firefly smiled a little from the side.
"Well, there's one of them here. On to find the rest."
In the distance, he could see the other members of the Crew, all of them focused on the grave, the very spot he had gone to earlier. Micah was talking, and he could catch the words as soon as they got into range. Gallagher was the one to answer Himeko's question about the empty slate.
"When Dreamflux Reef was created, its owner was still alive. However, he insisted on erecting a monument for himself, saying that 'it will happen someday'."
They turned around, the whole group, and Mark instantly made eye contact with Himeko, whose gaze softened upon seeing his tired expression. He said nothing, simply looking away, hardening his expression just a bit, closing himself off once more.
"Here we meet again, everyone from the Astral Express Crew... except Mark here, whom I've just met."
Sunday simply looked at his sister, speaking her name with a touch of worry, joy, and everything at once.
"Robin..."
Mark bit his lip, holding it together. Little did he know that he'd ever get so homesick. He wasn't the best brother, that much he knew, but he did care for his sister... for his family. It was all just a faraway memory now, something he would most probably never have back. He had to move on.
Robin took a step closer, looking at Sunday as if she was sorry for her actions that brought him worry. From the side, the others were watching him carefully, understanding that the display was something that weighed heavily on him. Himeko tried to reach out, to step closer, but guilt held her back.
Robin and Sunday took a few steps away, talking in private, while the Crew remained there, ready to learn the situation from Gallagher. The memory fled Mark, withheld by something that went out of his control.
"I promised to give the siblings some privacy, so let's talk about our business first? What do you say?"
Mark nodded, arms crossed, as he stood to the side, next to Welt, who answered for everyone.
"That sounds sensible enough. Since you went through the trouble of gathering The Family head, the Crew, and the Stellaron Hunters, I'm guessing you have something important to say, Mister Gallagher?"
He answered in a monotonous voice.
"Is it that obvious?"
March huffed, pointing her finger at him.
"The look on your face is practically screaming 'I'm the one behind all this'..."
Gallagher laughed at her tiny outburst, and even Mark found himself training a smile on his lips, yet it faded quickly.
"You're right, Mister Yang. It is indeed time to come clean on everything. The siblings already know what they need to, and they've made their choice. But you Nameless arrived a bit late, so it's only fair that I answer your questions."
He took a breath in, letting a moment of silence settle, only to be uprooted again.
"Before we begin, let me reintroduce myself. I'm the founder of Dreamflux Reef, the deputy of the Watchmaker, and... the one who sent out that invitation."
Mark smiled a little to himself, trying to ignore the painstaking pulse that thudded in his head.
"As Gallagher, the History Fictionologist, I humbly extend my greetings to you all."
Mark's lips pursed at the mention of that faction, trying not to think too much of it, lest his mind would throw a fit again.
"Heh, History Fictionologist... I see..." he muttered, rubbing his chin while in thought.
March pouted, letting her arms fall loosely around her body.
"History Fictionologist? So everything you told us was made up?"
Gallagher smiled a little, speaking as if nothing was wrong.
"Well, don't worry. Almost everything I shared was true... well, except for the part about 'The Family accepting me back'."
Himeko nodded, looking her way, but she couldn't help her gaze from slipping in Mark's direction, who failed to notice it thanks to being drowned in his own inner turmoil.
"I double checked with Micah, and everything he said about the The Family, The Watchmaker, and Mikhail is true."
While Gallagher went over his decisions, his own reasoning for setting up different factions in the game for the Watchmaker's Legacy, Mark just kept thinking over and over, feeling like some form of clue to his mind being split apart would come to light soon enough.
Chapitre 77: Wake Up
*I haven't died yet. I'm alive yooo. Anyway, new chapter here. Enjoy. Peace out and Deus vult*
He didn't bother with the countless words that flowed out of Gallagher's mouth, instead trying to figure out what the whole ordeal was in the grand scheme of things. Internal affairs within The Family, outside interference in the Harmony, some other power causing the imbalance.
The bomb from Gallagher came that a Stellaron was involved in the whole ordeal, keeping the dream together without using an Emanator of Remembrance or another power on that level. The Crew cast silent gazes his way, and he simply scoffed softly, already thinking of what to do and how to get rid of it faster.
"It would prove to be quite a challenge. The Stellaron itself is in the Dreamscape, existing in a different form. Just what are Stellarons? I think them remains from dead Aeons, but I might be wrong. Alas, let's just focus on getting rid of this atrocity."
The others were listening carefully to the things revealed, while Mark didn't bother to focus on their audible form, instead twirling the bits that came into being in his fragmented mind. Something about such a thing happening wasn't a thing in the game, and yet he wasn't a thing there either. It did bother him that not even a clue related to his condition existed, and yet it was there, related to the dream, somehow burning him slowly and painstakingly slow.
He nearly shot up on the tips of his feet as the idea came back to him—a subtle detail that he had forgotten.
"You alright, kid?" asked Gallagher, as the eyes of the Crew fell on him from all sides. He nodded, speaking loudly, his realization subtle but holding meaning.
"I realized something. Hell, I realized something. You go on discussing then asking Sunday about the Stellaron. Hell, I need to find someone. Gallagher, I gotta borrow your pet or whatever it is. Hopefully it's not mad at me, since I did give it quite a beating when we thought it an enemy."
His sudden rush felt odd, even for his friends who were used to this sort of behavior. Gallagher nodded, preparing to call for Sleepie, ready to send Mark back to the fancier side of the dream, the one filled with neon lights and endless bustle, drinks, and tales that intertwined themselves.
"Does he always get this excited?" asked Gallagher, looking at the others. March sighed, as if tired of his antics, while Stelle rubbed her eyes. Himeko was silent, stealing a quick glance at him as Welt fixed his glasses into place.
"He has his moments. If possible, do aid him, Mister Gallagher. He's got a good sense for these things."
Said and done, Mark left behind any fatigue or strange feeling that plagued him, focusing instead on the path ahead, heading to none other than Black Swan, the Memokeeper who might have a clue. The one thing that came to him was that, ever since his arrival in Penacony, no blood came out of his nose as he recalled various things. It was a simple, dumb, yet significant detail that he had overlooked, focused to the extreme on the situation around.
Another stab in the chest later, he was up and running through the city, bearing memories of Boothill and Dan Heng having arrived at the bar in reality, waiting for that one bottle of Asdana's White Oak. Of course, they'd be sent back to the Astral Express, where a nice chat was about to ensue. The details were lost to him, yet they tried to come to the surface, almost like they had resurfaced once more.
Once at the bar, he noticed the duo of Nameless and Galaxy Ranger waiting, grabbing their bottle and checking out a note. Mark arrived by their side, speaking briefly.
"Astral Express. Now."
Boothill's hand went to the gun, but Dan Heng nodded, assuring him that Mark was to be trusted.
"Slow down, cowboy. You're quick to your guns, but I'll be quicker to take you out like a tin can," he smirked, trying to rile up the Galaxy Ranger.
"You're one mother fudger, son of a nice lady. If it were after me, I'd fill you with lead in two seconds flat."
Mark smirked.
"Heh, you need to get that checked. Your vocal module needs a little tuning for the cussing part of things. Mother fudger sounds funny, tho, you know? Anyway, on to the Express. We're in deeper shit than I thought."
Thus, they walked off like a group, with Boothill holding on to that bottle like his life was on the line.
"What about the others?" asked Dan Heng, aiming for the subject without hesitation.
"They're fine. Each one is focused on their own thing. Welt went with Sunday and Robin. Himeko has a different lead she's focusing on, with Stelle and March going with her."
He nodded, keeping up the rhythm as the Express appeared into view. Mark boarded first, smiling at Pom-Pom.
"Heh, seems like our Conductor is busy with guests, right?"
Mark's gaze fell on Black Swan, a smoldering sense of confusion about her, like anger kept astray from its true purpose, lost in a daze made by his own hand. Meanwhile, Acheron smiled softly at him, and he felt the same strange tug as their gazes met. It was almost like her presence yearned for his and vice versa.
"Well, seems like we meet again, right? I knew you couldn't stay away from me for long," chuckled Black Swan, her low voice soft, seductive, yet Mark simply walked past her, for a moment forgetting all about the thing he wished to ask about. He simply walked closer to Acheron, while Black Swan kept on her characteristic tiny little grin, despite feeling a little hurt.
"Ah, so cold..." she mused, crossing her arms.
Acheron's eyes were fixed on Mark's, luring him in, calling out to him. She stepped closer, meeting him halfway.
"Good to see you're fine after our shared moment in battle."
He nodded, smiling a little, bopping her nose most gently—an old habit of his that showed whenever he wished to get closer to someone. It was a subconscious thing, yet he did it nonetheless. She smiled a little, the faintest trace of a blush on her cheeks.
"As amusing as this may be, I'm afraid we have more pressing issues," she said softly, looking over to the others. Boothill was pretty mad in that moment, staring at Black Swan with cold gunbarrels ready to fire instead of eyes.
"You Garden of Recollection shirtbag, you betrayed me?!"
Acheron tugged at Mark's sleeve, turning him around as she walked a bit closer to Boothill, speaking calmly.
"I apologize, but she did that at my request. Due to certain... reasons, I have been exiled by The Family. Thankfully, this Memokeeper came to my aid and helped me escape their surveillance unnoticed."
Black Swan smiled curtly, nudging Mark in the side, snapping him out of his own thoughts, which she thought were filled with Acheron.
"See? I'm not that bad, after all."
He sighed, rubbing his eyes for a moment in pure annoyance before opening his mouth to speak, only to find a soft, satin glove pressed to his lips, keeping them together before sliding along, feeling their plumpness.
"Keep those kissable lips of yours closed for now, until I might close them myself. You'll learn more than you're in for in a few moments."
He nearly allowed himself the luxury of biting off her finger, but it would've been for naught since she doesn't have a physical form to begin with. Thus, he waited, noticing Acheron's amused expression before she went on talking.
"I asked her to guide me to a place beyond The Family's reach and to contact a few trustworthy individuals, namely all of you."
Boothill laughed, grinning from ear to ear like a jester mocking the audience.
"Trustworthy? Hahahahahaha! Son of a nice lady! You think I'm dumb or something?"
He yanked out his gun, pointing it to her head, giving the hammer a dead-set touch. Mark by his side instantly froze him up, burning up to 35% output in a flash, releasing the ice like it appeared out of thin air, rendering him motionless.
"Heh, so you sure got me trapped, right? All of you threw nothing but bullcrap around."
Acheron looked at Mark, nodding, and he undid the ice at once, trying to calm down.
"Sorry for that, but don't just go pointing your gun at people, alright? It was pure reflex that kicked in."
He nearly pointed the gun at Mark this time, but Acheron spoke up. On the side, Dan Heng simply took note of what was going on, looking over to Pom-Pom, who was a little bit worried.
"I'm willing to answer all your questions, but not right now," said Acheron, her tone calm, back to the usual lifeless plateau. "If my cover hadn't been blown, we might've had more time, but at the moment, we don't have any other options."
"No other options? What do you mean?" replied Boothill, holstering his gun away by his waist.
"This is the only way I can ensure everyone's safety..."
She spoke up, determined.
"I kindly request an immediate warp jump outside of the Asdana star system."
Everyone was left silent, and Mark took a moment to mull over the words.
"Why, Acheron?" he asked calmly, tying up whatever ends he could grasp for.
The one to answer was Black Swan, speaking firmly, causing Mark to twirl around and meet her gaze.
"Have you heard of a planet named Byandri Skamandros, Mark?"
The name suddenly appeared in his mind, followed by the eerie image of a concept that has long since found its way in horror—a hivemind.
"Everyone became part of The Family..." he whispered, finally realizing the weight of it all. Everyone was left speechless, contemplating the words. Mark's eyes widened slightly, reaching for his nose.
"Black Swan... there's more to this, right? What is the missing link?"
The world froze around him, with time literally stopping for a second. His heart rushed, his eyes were focused on hers, almost feeling her try to get inside his mind yet again, but rather, she was checking to see the exterior. Her gaze was somewhat worried, almost horrified, but she spoke softly, like switching characters instantly.
"Missing link? You'll have to find it for yourself, Mark. Wake up for good."
The last sentence, the same thing Meritas had told him, the damned words finding their way back at him. Soon, time moved again, flowing with no issue. He struggled for breath for a second, while Dan Heng and Boothill watched the scene, with one being silent while the other fiddled with the gun on his hip, giving it a few spins on his index finger.
"Wake up... for good..."
Acheron spoke up, her voice a soft anchor for Mark as she walked closer, leaning a bit against his side.
"The Family would have no reason to cause that sort of incident here... if they truly serve the Harmony, that is."
"What do you mean?" asked Dan Heng, curious about the situation, yet his cold demeanor didn't falter.
Acheron leaned a bit more on Mark, speaking calmly.
"The Path in Penacony is impure. The Harmony here has impurities."
Mark blushed a little, but he didn't move away at all, rather sliding his hand gently along her back until it rested above her hip.
Black Swan smiled, looking over them both with a slightly amused expression.
"Do you remember the ancient Swarm Disaster? Tayzzyronth the Propagation brought endless havoc to the universe, and it eventually evolved into a fierce battle among all Aeons. Two Paths lost their Aeons in that war— The Propagation and The Order. Coincidentally, their downfall is related to a certain Aeon..."
"Xipe the Harmony," answered Acheron from Mark's side. "Legend has it that THEY participated in the crusade against the Imperator Insectorum and devoured Ena the Order for no reason."
The name struck Mark in the gut, causing his vision to blurry. Dream. Dream. Dream. Ena's Dream. He looked around, noticing how it all began to shake and rattle, the very fabric of reality around him struggling to keep itself together.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
200+ Classement
Power Stone 
12 Power
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