Another day passes in the Underworld. More fighting. More running. More death. Fortunately, none of the deaths is of my group. Instead, we are the inflictors, pressing a final rest upon those who should have died long, long ago.
Lily guides me over a rocky hill while the others rest, wanting to show me something. I already know what it is, but I let her burst out her exhilaration for now.
My fingernails dig into the rock as I haul myself over the top edge of the hill, listening to her words.
"Just over this! You'll see it, I promise! Oh! Look! Look!"
Lily's high-pitched enthusiasm surmounts as I crest the summit of the mountainous rock. My eyes scrub over the environment as a wave of stillness washes over me, the oppressive heat and stale air clinging to my skin like a shroud. Despite the inhospitable conditions, my gaze is drawn inexorably to the sight before me—a long, winding river that snakes its way across the barren landscape. Beneath the waves, I see tumultuous currents rivaling that of any and every storm, yet the movements never reach the surface.
This is no ordinary river. It is the Cardinal, a mythical waterway said to hold the essence of life itself within its dark, swirling depths. Though its waters are black and foreboding, rumored to be deadly to the touch, they possess a potent vitality that cannot be denied. When exposed to the light upon the surface, these waters host life in even the most awful conditions. Now, the legends also state that the Cardinal hasn't surfaced in tens of thousands of years, so how much of that is true is unknown.
As I stand atop the mountain, gazing down at the Cardinal below, I feel a deep and profound connection to this ancient river, a tether originating from my hip. But there is one deeper than just the birthplace of Lily. It enters my heart and leaves with my breath. It is a reminder of the cycle of life and death that permeates the very fabric of the Underworld.
We come from this river, and when we die, this is where we should return.
I know this without anyone ever telling me this. My eyes scrape up slightly before I stop them. Death. Death is natural. It is normal. But the God? The God of Death? Something tells me what she does is not normal.
Though I dare not venture closer to its treacherous shores and leave my friends, I cannot help but feel a sense of reverence for the Cardinal and the power it holds. In its depths lie the secrets of creation and destruction, a timeless source of energy that sustains much of Lily's powers and bears endless secrets.
Where is it from? What gives it such powers? Why do some places seem so mystical, so... empowered? Weirwind. The Bridge Of The Gods. The Cardinal. What makes these places so unique?
As I take in the vastness of the Cardinal, I am filled with a sense of awe and wonder, humbled by the knowledge that even in the darkest depths of the Underworld, there is still beauty to be found.
"Isn't it beautiful?"
In my introspection, I failed to notice Aniwye climb up here beside me. Her singular eye broaches the subject of the river, and I nod with her. Lily, too, is ecstatic at Aniwye admitting such a thing, as if she is saying it about the young Colt herself.
"Yes. Yes, it is. A rare sight in all the worlds, I'd have to imagine. But how did you know it was here?"
Aniwye shifts her attention to the Colt on my hip and my own eyes.
"Killian told me about her—about it, even if only briefly. I had to press him about it a dozen times to get him to spit it out. From here, though, I can also sense remnants of his mind. It is similar to where he once lived on the surface. Let us go. It is not too far away. We'll be back here soon to continue with the others."
I nod, seeing no reason to disagree if Aniwye believes it is close. Together, we climb down the mountain, a bundle of thrill at my hip wanting to join us. Yet, I have to remind Lily that we only have so many bullets. She needs to kill a Dominion if she wants to be out and about more often, and we missed the chance with Seatco.
The dismount of the hilly rocks is quick, and without much effort, we are only a few hundred feet from the shores of the Cardinal itself. A great breath fills my lungs as I prepare myself for this. I've wanted to come here for quite a long time.
Approaching the river's bank, I tread cautiously upon the glassy black sand that lines its shores. Each step is a delicate dance, the sharp grains cutting into my boots and the skin within them with every movement. The river stretches out before me, its inky depths seeming to defy comprehension as it flows endlessly onward.
My blood flows across the glassy sands into the waters, and the crimson immediately turns white, losing all of its vitality. I cannot help but stare at the transition, the change.
Despite the allure of the Cardinal's waters, I resist the pull, my instincts warning me of the danger that lies within. Instead, my attention is drawn to a lone shack situated nearby. Aniwye is already stepping toward it, like an animal searching for its prey.
Its weather-beaten exterior and closed door stir a sense of history within me, a nagging familiarity that I cannot shake.
With each passing moment as I walk toward it, memories flood back of the nights spent in Lily's dream. This is the cabin within her dreamscape. This is her home. This is my father's home.
Aniwye freezes before entering or even opening the door. She merely stares at the wooden frame with her large size, not yet Adjusting to fit. Lily is quiet as I step to the entrance, her joy reaching a pinnacle.
Drawing closer, I reach out a hand to grasp the doorknob, the uncommon wooden handle cool beneath my touch. With a deep breath, I push open the door, the hinges creaking in protest as I step inside.
The interior is dimly lit, the faint glow of light from the magma near Hell filtering through cracks in the walls. Dust hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the scent of age and decay. It is a scene frozen in time as if left precisely how it was last lived in.
Yet, it is not without life.
There is a man seated at the only table within the shack, a sheet of paper in his hands. He turns to look at me slowly, not uttering a single word as he takes in my arrival with ancient eyes. My heart skips a beat as I, for a moment, think it is my father. But it is not. This man is much too old. In fact, I don't believe I've ever met anyone quite this old. Still... he seems familiar. Too familiar. My mind wracks through its memories as I quickly pull back a piece from it.
I've met this old man before. He spoke to me at the Heights Of Hope and Depths Of Depravity. He told of not choosing a side. Beyond that, I can only remember his words about the limitless malice within mankind. It is a line that stuck with me.
"We've met before. You were at the monuments."
The old man, covered in wrinkles from head to toe, nods before placing down the sheet of paper. I only get a glance at it before he blocks my view, but the lines upon it immediately give me a headache from its intricacy.
"We have. I have been waiting many years to meet you again, young man."
I furrow my brows, not comprehending his words. Years? As he speaks, my brain finally calculates the fact that I don't see any chains from him. Not any amount or of any color. He is fetterless in a way that not even the Unsigiled are. A shiver runs down my spine as I don't know what that means, only that it cannot be good.
"What do you mean?"
The elderly man stands from the chair, the action evidently tricky for someone of his age. I glance back at Aniwye, only for her single eye to be stricken with fear, shoved back and tightened as her body trembles. What is happening?
I twist back to face the old man just as he answers me.
"I met your father for the first time shortly after your birth. He spoke of you many times, especially after he returned half a decade ago, the one stipulation in our agreement."
Stipulation? Agreement? He knows my father?
The instruments in my head begin to sing as I stumble backward. A slim smile falls onto the old man's face as I discover a name that fits only him.
The Devil.
It all makes sense now. He's the reason why my father is down here, and nothing but a God would put so much fear into Aniwye. She can't even move.
Still, I hear the whisper under her breath. It is like an omen or a prayer unto a God one knows will not answer. Her fear is more instinctual than learned, like that of a child running from a spider, an ingrained apprehension that comes from the blood.
"The Hellwalker..."
I clear my throat and bow slightly toward the first God I've ever had the... pleasure? The displeasure of meeting? I'm not too sure yet.
"Well, it is... nice to meet you, Devil?"
I only notice how unsure my voice is after it leaves my throat, and a subtle fit of laughter comes from the God. His lungs emit joy that swiftly turns to terrible coughs. He nearly falls over as he uses the table as leverage, his whole body trembling from exertion.
This can't be him, right? This is a God? This thing?
I've heard theories, and even thought it myself a few times, that the Devil might be human. It answers many of the mysteries regarding him, but looking at this figure now, it's hard to believe he's even a God.
Nevertheless, the Arbiter Of Chaos stabilizes himself and addresses me once more.
"Yes. That would be me, child. I know it comes as a surprise, but few things are as we expect in life."
I don't even know what to say as I stare at this man, this God. The only thing I can do is look at him in shock. The Devil takes a step toward me, causing me to flinch slightly, but he just walks right past me out the door with signs of annoyance.
"Why are you so apprehensive? I am human; am I not? Come leave your father's abode as it were. Some things should remain as they are."
Pivoting slowly, I watch the man's back, a long crimson coat covering thick charcoal pants draped over his body. Then, I follow him, sputtering out one of the infinite questions I have. Eh... more than that.
"What are you doing here? Where is my father? Is he alright?"
The Devil shakes his head, motioning for me to stride alongside him as he steps over the sharp sands of the Cardinal's beach. His shoes are simple pieces of leather, not even close to the reinforced boots I wear, but the glass doesn't even crunch under his wobbly steps.
"All in due time, child. Come. There is someone I want you to meet. I believe you have also seen each other before, though. He is the only one who can prepare you."
I furrow my brows as we continue over the sands of glass. Aniwye doesn't follow us. Instead, she gives me a cautious look before entering the shack. I think she's terrified of the Devil. No. She is so utterly horrified that she refuses to breathe in his presence. What's... what's wrong? I am unsure of my decision, but I don't turn back.
Together, I walk with this man, this God. The fact that he admits to being human shakes me to the core. Vincent wasn't the first? What has he been doing this whole time? Oh... I know. He's been holding back Hell, hasn't he?
The Undead aren't alone. They could never do it on their own. With all the powerful demons and Motherbound popping out, it's proof that the threat has always been extreme. Isaac and his folk must have just been simple janitors, cleaning up whatever slips past the Red Judge.
I shift my eyes toward his bent figure, finding it difficult to match him to such a... Godly figure as the Devil. No Ether surrounds him. It's like a dead zone. He has no fetters and appears to be as fragile as a simple old man.
Yet just as I consider the notion of testing him, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up on end. My very soul screams in protest, instinctively seeing something I do not.
So, instead, I merely follow the Devil until we reach a few hundred feet out from the shack. The God abruptly stops before retrieving a pocket watch from his jacket.
He opens it and clicks a button, and a wave of energy, a mixture of Ether and something else, surrounds us. A bubble appears around us as the Devil turns to me. His eyes glow with enigmatic radiance as he finally meets my gaze. In one eye, a balance is tipped to the right, and in the other, a balance is tipped to the left.
"Remington."
The Devil utters a name to the world, and as he does, I notice the space outside the bubble collapse. It's like raging a war against whatever space this God has created. I inhale deeply, shocked to see such a thing occurring before my eyes. It's like a miniature cataclysm. But he's not done yet.
"Remington Shaw. I require your aid. You can halt your sealing attempts. It won't work. She's too close to awakening this time. Give it up. To do it the first time, you gave your all."
My eyes flicker from the Devil to another subject as a rift opens in the air, golden sands falling down in torrential clumps. Fingers wrap around the edge of the rift before the hand pulls itself through, revealing it to be just that, a hand. There is no arm or torso attached to the golden hand.
It is just a hand, the exact same one that came from the hourglass. A shiver runs down my spine as it gives me a horrid sensation, one of utter wrongness.
Remington Shaw. The Timewarped Delver, or what remains of his, apologizes to the Devil. The motion is odd, articulated by only the fingers, which only adds to my apprehension.
"I am sorry, mentor. I have failed you again."
The Red Judge shakes his head sadly, pointing a gnarled finger at me. The hand twists, facing me with its palm before hovering backward slightly as if surprised to see me here.
"You have never failed me, Remington. This boy—"
"I've met him before. The Voyager I mentioned."
"Yes. That is him, Killian's son. We have the demon over there to thank for introducing you two. Can you help him? He wishes to meet his father, and the man needs help anyway. But I cannot allow such a child to enter that the Court. Make him strong."
The second the Devil finishes the word 'strong,' he vanishes, leaving behind not even his clothing. In exchange, the hand shifts to face me. It rotates oddly, reminding me of an animal investigating prey. This whole situation is just so beyond me that I don't even know what to ask. I don't know what to do with this... sickness in my stomach. Is something wrong with Remington? I don't know. There is little I can do.
Instead, I wait for Remington or whatever is left of him to speak. It takes nearly a full minute for him to utter even a single word, every second in which I stand with deepening confusion.
"I am sorry for my mentor. He is... extreme—always has been, for good reason, too. If he weren't... What is your name again? I cannot remember if I asked you previously. Much has changed since I saw you last."
I answer the floating golden hand. The index finger bobs up and down as if nodding. Feeling a bit more comfortable as the voice is reassuring and calm, not that brutal coldness the Devil had, I ask my own question in counter.
"Wyatt Graves. What are you?"
Remington Shaw releases a sigh, the hand curling in on itself slightly. Then, the man who lost to time tells me a short story.
"Ah... you wouldn't know, would you? I am... long dead. This... form is a construct of Ether melding with the River Of Time. I was whisked away to the Sandy Waves many moons ago. Honestly, I don't even remember the exact date. Neither does he. Anyway... I am... hmm... what would I call myself? If an Arca is Ether melding with flesh, and I am Ether melding with the concepts of the universe... I suppose I would call myself a Memento, an echo of a man and time."
I nod, only understanding a fraction of what was actually said. Still, I follow up with another, wanting to know what is happening.
"What is happening here? Why are you here with me?"
The Memento laughs without a mouth, the fingers of the hand dancing ominously. Though, the answer isn't as awful as one might expect.
"It would seem your father needs help, and you are being recruited, only you are far too weak right now. Hmm... You at least need Solid Ether. Yes. That should be enough to let you be a player in that game of chess."
"Who's game of chess? And I just learned Plasmic Ether? How am I going to learn that? It's going to take way too long!"
I shout at the hand, not even really meaning to as all my frustration mounts. I didn't come here for any of this! The hand, however, doesn't care. It floats past me softly, landing on my shoulder with an abrupt turn. Before he even speaks, my stomach sinks. Something is wrong, but what is it?
"Too long? Lucky you. That's something I can fix."