It was as if he had been ensnared in the whirl of a childhood game, twirling swiftly on his own axis, only to abruptly freeze while the world carried on its dizzying dance. When Brad pried open his eyes, he was engulfed by that very sensation. If it were possible, he would have expelled the contents of his stomach right then and there. The chamber spun around him, yet amidst the swirling chaos, he discerned the presence of a bed, a nightstand, and a chair. Initially, he believed he was still confined within the same room, but the chamber continued its relentless rotation.
"Halt," a voice hissed from nearby, accompanied by a gentle hand resting on his shoulder.
Ilberius's intervention, an enchantment whispered, stilled the whirling tempest and mended the knight's sight. In the chair sat a nun, immersed in fervent devotion. Adorning the wall, a symbol of Orion, an intricate convergence of eight interwoven blades, held its place. Brad approached the bed, his heart recognizing the countenance of the young man nestled there, though altered by time, with ebony tresses cascading and a well-groomed beard. Overwhelmed, he took faltering steps backward.
"Do you recognize him?" Ilberius inquired, curiosity lacing his voice.
Brad, enveloped by a flood of memories, maintained silence, his lips forming a whispered invocation, "Maleckhie."
In that very moment, the door swung open, unveiling the entrance to the chamber, and two additional nuns crossed the threshold. One of them, none other than Lady Illaine herself, graced the room with her presence. Startled by the sight of the esteemed high priestess standing before him, the young nun, roused from her slumber, lost balance in a surge of elation, causing the chair to crumble beneath her as she rose abruptly.
The young nun, her face flushed with embarrassment, faltered, "I humbly implore your forgiveness," and hastily departed the room under Lady Illaine's guidance.
"As you behold, esteemed high priestess, as you have commanded, we maintain a vigilant presence by the young patient's side, day and night," Lady Illaine reassured, accompanied by the fellow nun who had entered the room alongside her.
Lady Illaine cast her gaze over the surroundings, her eyes lingering on Brad and Ilberius before encompassing the entirety of the room. "Suspend a dreamcatcher in this chamber. Restless vibrations assail my senses," she proclaimed. Then, tinged with a hint of desperation, she inquired, "Has there been any alteration in his condition?"
"No alteration whatsoever. It has remained thus for half a year," the other nun replied.
"Leave me alone with him. I shall beseech the divine on his behalf," Lady Illaine requested.
The other nun promptly adhered to her command, exiting the room and closing the door behind her. Lady Illaine drew the chair nearer to the slumbering youth's side.
"Oh, my dear child, Maleckhie. The hour has come for you to awaken. Awaiting your return, an expectant multitude," she whispered tenderly. "May Orion illuminate your path," she implored, rising from her seat.
Once more, the venerable high priestess surveyed the room before resuming her seat, opening her prayer book, and embarking on a silent communion.
Ilberius, unable to bear the weight of the suffocating silence any longer, finally shattered the solemn stillness. "Pray, tell me, how did you come to know this young man?" he inquired.
Brad approached Maleckhie once more, his gaze oscillating between the youthful figure and the venerable high priestess. "It was over half a year past. We sought solace in the grove near the foothills of the Black Fortress. Maleckhie, akin to myself, bore the burden of orphanhood. We both underwent training in the hallowed halls of the Temple Knighthood. Abandoned manors dotted the vicinity. We heard the piercing cry of a maiden and ventured into one of those forsaken abodes. What transpired thereafter is but a haze in my memory," Brad recounted.
"How do you mean?" Ilberius inquired, his countenance marked by bewilderment.
"I am simply unable to recollect the details. Is it not peculiar?" Brad voiced his frustration, his tone tinged with vexation.
"Reflect upon it, noble knight. Why are you here? Why have you chosen this very place, this very moment? There must be a purpose concealed within," Ilberius cried out, his words urging Brad to delve deeper into the mysteries of his existence.
"All that remains within my knowledge is that I departed from the Temple Knighthood six moons ago and sought admission into the illustrious Order of Illuen," Brad drew a deep breath. "Alas, I had forgotten about my dear companion Maleckhie," he exclaimed, his voice quivering with emotion.
"Ah, indeed, it could be as you say. You may find yourself ensnared in the realm of limbo, your mind shrouded by a forgotten occurrence. Now, any encounter that stirs echoes of that event could ignite a torrent of interconnected memories," Ilberius expounded.
"I do not repress anything. No, I adamantly reject this notion," Brad protested.
"Then perchance someone has forcefully imposed this upon you, employing the arcane arts. Could this Lady Illaine you mention be the culprit?" Ilberius queried.
"No," Brad objected firmly. "Lady Illaine would never stoop to such deceitful actions. You seek to plant seeds of doubt and perplexity within my mind, sorcerer. But I shall not succumb to your artifice."
Ilberius released a brief, mirthful chuckle. "Ah, naive knight. If I harbored intentions to deceive you..."
He allowed his words to linger in the air, hanging tantalizingly. Brad interjected with resolve, "Spare yourself the effort. I place no trust in wizards."
"A prudent stance indeed," Ilberius replied sarcastically.
"Yet still, it appears that I require your aid. Can you assist me in reaching Maleckhie? He, too, may be ensnared within this dimensional entanglement. Will you lend me your support, Ilberius?" Brad inquired, his tone carrying a glimmer of hope amidst his lingering skepticism.
The aged specter fixed a pensive gaze upon the youthful patient and Brad. "Could you perceive the visions that unfold before me, you would not yearn for this. Alas, I know your refusal to accept a negative response. Hence, I shall strive to provide aid and counsel. Nonetheless, should this trajectory persist, you shall plummet deeper still, my dear companion, and that is a perilous path," Brad was cautioned.
"Is there a glimmer of hope for his salvation?" Brad inquired, gesturing towards his comatose friend lying on the bed.
"Only the divine deities hold such knowledge," Ilberius replied with a wistful smile.
"Very well, then let our expedition commence," Brad declared, his hands intertwining with fervor.
"Dismiss not my cautionary words, noble knight. These odysseys shall exact a heavy toll on your wearied and famished body. Such is the unspoken limit of venturing within the realm of limbo. Yet, there exists an advantage, a shortcut, if you will. Within the recesses of your mind, you possess the ability to traverse any realm your imagination conjures. Summon forth the image of that grand mansion, with its every intricate detail. Focus on the threshold, the verdant garden, and the most vivid recollection within your grasp. Immerse yourself wholly in that fleeting moment, engaging all your senses," Ilberius imparted.
Brad sealed his eyes shut, delving deep into his mind's recesses to resurrect the minutiae of the derelict manor's garden. The initial tableau that materialized was a picturesque vision of sun-drenched mulberry trees, casting their protective shade on a resplendent spring day. He could vividly recollect ascending the arboreal heights at his comrade's urging, swaying the boughs toward Maleckhie's direction. The recollection surged forth—ripe mulberries tumbling upon the young man ensconced in his wheeled throne, staining their palms with their succulent hue, while the intoxicating fragrance engulfed their senses. And then, the anguished outcry shattered the tranquility.
Unleashing a frenetic sprint, Brad implored Maleckhie to muster his strength and keep pace to the best of his ability. The yawning threshold beckoned, wide open and devoid of hindrance. Unhesitatingly, Brad plunged into the heart of the edifice, pressing forward along the passageway that stood second to the right, having traversed the foyer. The once-glorious dome that crowned the ravaged abode lay reduced to smoldering ruin, and one of the encircling eucalyptus sentinels had breached the confines of the wide parlor, thrusting its presence upon the inner sanctum. And there, nestled upon the floor, was a disconsolate cherubic figure—a petite blond maiden—her forlorn weeping an echo of irreparable loss.
Suddenly, a shroud of impenetrable darkness descended upon the scene, casting an eerie pall. And there, stepping into the room, came Maleckhie. "What grim occurrence has transpired?" he inquired, his gaze focused on the young girl.
"They came for me!" the little girl shrieked, her trembling finger pointing at the encroaching shadows that encircled her.
Maleckhie regarded Brad with a cautious look, then surveyed their surroundings with vigilance. "There is no one present in this chamber," Brad whispered, meticulously scrutinizing every corner. Yet, an unsettling scent permeated the air, filling him with disquietude.
The darkness deepened, engulfing them in its ominous embrace. The anguished cries of the small girl reverberated, growing more intense. Brad turned to Maleckhie, his voice fraught with uncertainty. "Do my senses deceive me, or do these shadows possess an unsettling motion?"
Maleckhie fixed his unwavering gaze upon the shadows, tightening his grip, beckoning Brad to stand beside him. United, they formed a protective barrier around the desolate child, shielding her from the encroaching darkness. In a fleeting moment, Brad observed his friend's gentle touch upon the girl's delicate form, only to witness his visage drain of color. Maleckhie's pupils dilated in fear, his gestures frantic as he gestured at their surroundings. And in that very instant, Brad unsheathed his blade, his eyes squeezed shut, acutely aware of the ominous weight that pressed upon him, palpable and foreboding.
"Lead the way, Maleckhie!" Brad's voice thundered as he brandished his blade with unwavering determination.
"To the left! Now, to the right!" his companion's voice echoed, commanding his every move. "Dodge! Parry!"
Brad weathered a barrage of invisible strikes, the ethereal talons leaving indelible marks. Though unseen, the torment he endured was achingly real. With each wound, his shoulders and arms grew numb, robbed of their strength. The purity of his white garment gave way to a sea of crimson. Finally, overwhelmed by sheer exhaustion, he succumbed to the earth beneath him.
Amidst the chaos, he glimpsed Maleckhie rising, a fleeting glimmer of hope. Then, a radiant surge of light erupted, consuming the space around them. Maleckhie too crumbled, their gazes intertwining for a fleeting moment. The luster of Maleckhie's smile waned, replaced by an icy stare. It was the final memory etched in Brad's mind before darkness enveloped his senses.
* * *