Having floated around in the dark nothingness that was the void surrounding him, all he had left was vague memories of touches and smells, having all but forgotten the physical qualities that one would take for granted as just being a part of life's packet. Then again, it had been what felt like forever since he'd last seen, or felt, anything. Not that he thought much of it, having long grown content with simply existing.
He hadn't always been of that state of mind, though. When he had just arrived, he was, as one could expect, confused at suddenly finding himself in complete darkness. For a time, he'd thought he'd gone blind, or perhaps taken a hard hit to the head, knocking him unconscious. He did quickly dismiss the latter possibility, as he didn't think it was possible to be both conscious and unconscious at the same time. That left the former, but that didn't seem right, either. Even blind people were supposed to have a sense of touch, right?
That meant that there was something else wrong with him, something more sinister. His mind, muddled with confusion and fear, strayed down an uncomfortable amount of fantasies, each one worse than the one before. Had the villagers finally grown too fearful of his condition and decided to do something about him? The reason for his current situation may very well be his ailment... Or had he perhaps been kidnapped, sold as a slave to a sick and twisted Mage, only to be used in equally sick and twisted experiments?
His ignorance regarding the magical did nothing to calm him down. Instead, it only served to further fuel his fear of the unknown, letting his imagination run wild in the absence of knowledge. He saw himself lying on a stone table, limbs strapped with leather straps made of the skin of previous victims, as a horrendously misshapen creature loomed over him, laughing, as phlegm and spittle flew from its rotting mouth with dark tendrils squirming out of every one of its orifices. Hooks, barbed poles, and rusty knives dangled in chains attached to a ceiling hidden beneath a veil of darkness. The Mage's knives dug into his flesh, tearing muscle from bone, leaving festering wounds as his muscle turned into an ugly shade of greenish yellow. But, even then, his throat-rending screams were nothing more than a backdrop to the wailing souls of previous victims. Even as his delusions ended, he still found himself hearing the manic laughter of his nightmarish Mage.
And so, his mind kept jumping from one demented fantasy to the next, either desperate to find a reason why he found himself in this place, or to escape the images it had conjured. It wasn't easy to tell the time in this place, as there wasn't even a single speck of light to hint at the passage of time. But time had to be moving, it always had and always will, so all of his previous fantasies slowly seemed less and less plausible. That's not to say that he'd figured out why he was where he was, and why he was as he was, as his memories seemed to have been 'cut short'. But, perhaps the simplest explanation would be the right one, and it somehow brought him some resemblance of peace: he'd died. That was it. It had to be. He had died, and now he was simply waiting for his next shot at life.
While this realisation had brought closure to his compounding feelings of fear, it also brought with it a new sense of sadness. He hadn't achieved anything when he was alive, not that he thought himself to be the reason for this. There wasn't much a village kid could accomplish in the first place, not unless you had an Affinity for an Element, something everyone was tested for at the tender age of ten. Needless to say that his result had come out negative. But that wouldn't matter here, not in this place. All he could do now was wait.
But, despite having resolved himself to wait for as long as was needed, his mind didn't take well to the lack of stimulus. It would frequently fling him back into a world fraught with imaginary pains and struggles, although, as time passed, even this became a rare occurrence. Instead, the tiny impish laughter that had settled in the back of his mind was replaced by a serene silence as he settled into a feeling of acceptance, growing content with simply existing, as he went into a 'slumber' like state.
It wasn't until yet another indeterminate amount of time had passed before he was roused from his sleep. For a while, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him, once more thirsting for something to drag it away from the feeling of lonesome acceptance. But, this time, it wasn't his own mind flushing his already precarious sanity down the drain. No, this time it was very real, he realised. What had awoken him was a familiar, yet not quite tangible, feeling, one he'd felt at times whenever someone was at his door. He felt a presence. There was someone else in this otherwise barren void.
The presence remained almost indistinguishable from the dark nothing, but there was little he could do to seek this 'other' out, as he had yet to figure out any way to move. The distance between them did, however, seem to lessen, albeit rather slowly. Whether it was him moving towards it or it towards him he couldn't tell, as there was no point of reference to make use of. It didn't matter, however, as the mere idea at finally not being alone was almost overwhelming.
As the distance between the two lessened, to the point that the new arrival was right next to him, he finally had the opportunity to study whatever this new presence was. It felt… fuzzy, he realised, weaker than him somehow, his own presence dwarfing it; as if he was a fire within a stove, and it the match-fire used to light it. The difference confused him; how come it was so much weaker than himself? Had it, perhaps, spent more time than he had in this place? Would he, too, end up in this state? The thought wasn't exactly comforting, although it also brought with it a feeling of compassion.
He did, however, have no idea what to do. Not until he felt it latch on to him and probe his memories, searching, something he felt was more an instinctual action than a deliberate one. While he was certain he could block out the presence's probing, it reminded him of the time when his mind would play tricks on itself as entertainment. Perhaps this presence simply wanted some entertainment? It would be a good opportunity to relive his memories, something he hadn't done ever since he managed to calm down. Besides, there couldn't be any harm in sharing his memories with this being, right?
***
Thanja had never felt as much frustration as she currently did. It had gotten to the point that, if not for her age and image, she may very well have shed a couple of tears in indignation. Instead, she resorted to walking up and down the marble-floored hallways, before she stopped and just looked beyond the barrier behind her mansion and into the void, Oblivion, as she thought of what had brought her to this point.
She had looked away for a mere decade and what did she find? Everything had fallen apart. While the church still had a foothold in some of the lower realms, her two Chosen had somehow managed to get themselves killed in a tiny backwaters village, while completing a Divine Quest, despite all the effort she put into making sure that they were welcomed.
If that was all, however, Thanja wouldn't have minded it much. Chosen could be re-chosen, after all, and then the replacements would be tasked with completing the Divine Quest. This Quest was different though. The pair had been tasked with raising a child to maturity, a child she had used much of her accumulated resources to put into one of the lower realms. So, with the death of her Chosen, the completion of the Quest would land on the shoulders of the villagers, something she couldn't accept under any circumstances, seeing as she had no control over the actions of the village people.
While a sprinkling of strife surely wouldn't hurt the boy, the death of his 'parents' at the young age of six was sure to be a bigger blow than he could handle, evident by the fact that he had somehow turned mute shortly after for reasons neither she nor the villagers could understand. This wasn't the end, however, as the villagers had then started voicing their concerns regarding the boy's unnatural silence as they, blinded by fear and ignorance, claimed the boy to be cursed, a claim even Thanja couldn't dispute with absolute confidence.
All of this had led to the boy now having collapsed in the tiny hut his 'parents' had left him, his soul no longer in the world. She had trouble understanding why he'd been driven to such an end as he had, although she ended up blaming it on his still frail and mortal mind. If the boy's death wasn't frustrating enough, the fact that the body was still warm meant that she had just barely missed her last chance for intervention.
Sure, it would cost her yet another fortune and a handful of favours to do something, but she would have been able to do something to prevent the massive waste the boy's death represented. Now, it may very well take another dozen centuries of painful stagnation before she'd be able to try her chances once more.
After hours of what she felt was pointless ruminations, she saw something in the void: a speck of colour, a clear purple, had streaked across the vast emptiness, something that hadn't happened in a long while. She would have to inform the other Guardians, just in case what lied beyond the barrier was stirring awake.
As she turned around, something one of her friends that were well versed in matters of fate and clairvoyance had told her recently, came to mind: "You must search beyond the horizon to find what you seek." This could, naturally, mean a multitude of things, and fate telling never seemed to work if you actively sought out the promised result, a theory that had been all but accepted as fact at this point.
But, what if the boy's soul had somehow ended up beyond the barrier, Horizon, instead of entering the Soul Cycle? Wayward souls had never been uncommon, but there had been no records of anything besides the Guardians themselves passing Horizon. The idea seemed too far fetched to even be possible. And yet, a nagging feeling at the back of her mind told her that, while highly implausible, it might still be possible for the boy's soul to somehow end up in Oblivion. She had bent a few rules to allow for his creation, after all, and there was no way telling just what consequences that would have.
'A quick peek shouldn't hurt, right?' she thought to herself. It wouldn't be the first time she had ventured beyond the barrier, and she could always alert the other Guardians after she returned…