"..." Argo picked himself up off the ground.
The Spider was still above monitoring them, but he didn't mind too greatly.
With the Dumbaran's fighting the Night Hordes in the north and the giants fighting the organized forces of the South, it was not his concern anymore.
Now, there was only a need to wait for Awick's triumph, so they could open the gates and leave.
His hairs stood on end.
The shockwave of the clash inside the mage storm nearly send him tumbling, if not for the fact he had already prepared himself for it.
His heart began beating faster.
His lips trembled, as he struggled to keep his composure.
Why was his body reacting like this? To what?
Argo balled his hands into fists, and gripped his swords. He could only guess... and so he looked up.
The Spider had moved it's long spindly chitin legs slightly, but, that did not invoke the anxiety that was trying to topple him.
Something else... ripped his attention away.
He didn't… couldn't… wouldn't… look away from that thing.
It was a vine peeking through the wall.
A luscious emerald, with red flowers that could be seen even several hundred meters down, due to the influx of light from the mage storm reflecting off the spider, at a closer look, it had a beautiful bioluminescence that lit up not just the ceiling, but coiled down the massive pillars, and hung over the boulders and into the ground.
The entire Second Gate area was infested with it?
His pupils shrank. Had this always been here?
Was this an illusion? Was it the Moon Eyes? Was it coming?
His blood ran cold.
There was no way to cross examine immediately and know.
"...Morray? …Morray! MORRAY!"
He pushed away Constance's hand, she had rarely seen such a look on his face, the closest thing she could compare it too, was a predator on edge.
She could feel the energy building up inside him, ready to explode.
She tried to see what he was seeing, but he was turning his head too fast, she tried to look into his eyes, but there was so much going on, she couldn't decipher it.
The girl gripped his pants.
He looked down.
There were vines around them, and their flowers, the pin pricks… all of it was everywhere.
He bent down slowly, and picked her up.
His heart beat a little faster.
Did it… blink?
He glanced down, and away, looking out of the peripheral of his vision as he picked her into his arms, "How are you feeling?"
One of the flowers down by him, had blinked.
He didn't know if he was going insane, but… he looked again, and in the heart of the flower, there were eyes.
Hundreds of tiny eyes.
They blinked again, in perfect unison.
His skin crawled and the hairs on his arms rose.
The Lonely Flower.
The dream.
The book.
The thing that Lucian had spoken about.
He looked at the Second Gate, that although far, was giant enough to be seen, and he could see the whole mural now… since the gate was covered in vines and roots like the spider webbing of lightning across it's surface.
It was broken up, but it was still somehow clear to it's artistic expression.
The Second Daughter, wielding the Spear, and around her were creatures that could hardly be described, abominations of flesh and bone, amalgamations of meat, profane violations of the sanctity of life.
Though her spear was covered in blood, she did not look at them. Her valiant gaze was turned elsewhere.
He followed it, almost unstoppably, he couldn't not in that moment.
And there he saw it... a figure stood on a hill, scratched out completely, such that even the vines could not recreate it and the stones could not show it.
An aura of malice so strong radiated off those scratches, that his whole body felt like it would molt, to escape it, but he gripped himself like a vice, holding fast, he did not run.
Where the Second Daughter had a presence so valiant, it managed to clear his mind, that scratched out thing, was alone enough to dominate it.
Who was that thing scratched out of the mural? And what... what had happened here...?
Argo turned his eyes away, forcefully ripping his sight away, since he felt the more he looked, the more he was being dragged in.
His eyes landed on the eyes of a red flower.
Pollen puffed out of it, wrapping around his face.
The Lonely Flower…
…What was he thinking about again?
Argo looked around, catching sight of Marce, pulling her long bow back once again.
His lips turned down slightly.
Before the last moment, he would make sure that she would-
-The girl tugged a little on his hair.
He looked down.
Why was the girl in his arms?
When…; his mind swiveled.
That's not… what he was looking at…?
"Morray? Morray?"
Morray?
"Flower." His lips moved.
Who was… Morray?
His codename, that's right.
"Vine." He needed to say more.
Where… he gripped his head.
His aura swirled around his body.
"Eyes." She had to understand what he meant.
Something was interfering with his head, but every time he pushed on it, he forgot.
What was it?
"Ceiling." She had to pull him back.
What was he… thinking about…?
Marce… Marce needed retribution for what she did? No... that...
"Are you okay? What have you been mumbling about?"
His hand slowly lowered.
The headache was gone.
He merely glanced at Constance.
"...I'm fine."
Constance stared as Argo seemed to be pulled out of his stupor, she checked to make sure he wasn't touching any of the hands or faces, but there was nothing.
What had him acting like that?
She looked up, and around at the places he had been swinging his gaze to, but she didn't see anything there, even the Spider was gone.
She activated her insight… but there was only some murkiness around, to be expected.
She laid a look onto him, and when he turned around, to go pick up his other sword, she touched his back, freezing him up.
"What were you looking at?"
"What does it matter?"
"Don't be difficult."
He frowned, "Marce."
Lie.
Constance's expression fell slightly.
"Are you telling the truth?"
He gave her a sidelong look, "Yes."
Lie.
"What were you looking at the ceiling for?"
"I wasn't."
Lie.
"The gate?"
"What is this all about?"
"The Gate."
Argo turned around to stare at her. What was she… who… his head pounded, and his eyes twitched, as he held his head.
It hurt more, the more she spoke. His energy began to backlash against the holy power she was putting in him.
"I… didn't look at the gate."
Lie.
Constance's expression fell further as she felt the resistance starting to ramp up.
She knew for certain now, that something was interfering with his mind.
She lowered her voice, and stepped in close enough to kiss him, but put her lips by his ear, keeping her hand on his chest at all times, maintaining control of her holy power, "...was it the thing that's closing the gates?"
"No."
Lie.
Constance's pupils contracted.
And Argo knew from that alone, his own conclusions.
Something was up. Something was, making him less observant.
And so, he made a point of looking everywhere. Where was it? Was it the Moon Eyes? Or the Defiled Tyrant?
His eyes spun around.
Ceiling. Gate. Floor.
Yet, his eyes stuck to the Ceiling, his head hurt the most, when he looked at the Ceiling, where the Spider had been.
It was a splitting headache, like someone was hitting a gong inside of his skull.
What was trying to… what was he trying to… do again…?
"Focus." Constance's whisper in his ear, carried Holy Power, that reinforced his mind.
He could still barely focus at all. He felt like his consciousness was slipping from him. Not in that he was going to collapse, but he was losing himself.
What was… his mothers name?
Who were his friends?
What were his servants names?
Why, had he come here?
Who was… who…
"What do you see?" Constance's hand on his bare chest, was warm, filling him with some resistance, she was sweating.
Argo's otherwise swampy eyes, were faraway stuck in a thousand yard stare colored a strange red with a yellowish center.
In a trance, he spoke.
"Who are you?"
Constance felt a strong push back against her. She felt threatened.
Violet aura began to manifest, as he looked down at her.
Her breath slipped slightly.
She could see it.
Thousands of dead soundlessly screaming from Argo's shadow. They were reaching for her. Demanding that she get retribution for them.
They demanded his head. Their grievances, the number of souls, or fragments of souls she could see so clearly, had to have been tormented to death to leave such a firm hatred behind that her insight could materialize it.
His arm caught her wrist and pulled her mind back from the dead.
She wanted answers, but, she was more focused for now, on getting him out of whatever had gotten to him, so they could finish their current mission.
His hand was starting to leave marks on her wrist.
"My name is Constance Evergreen. I am the Hero of this generation in Karlan. You know me. We are in the Hollow Mountains, home of the giants. The biggest giant found is a hundred forty meters tall… and…"
"...The last hero of the Church in Karlan is seventy years old. How did you enter my study?" Constance's pupils shrank, she pushed even more holy power into his body, but, it was barely budging.
He flinched.
Constance looked down at his arm.
Had he not realized he was still holding the girl?
"Then, do you know her?"
Argo slowly turned his head down.
It felt like his brain as vibrating.
She looked like she was crying, but he blinked and she was looking at him with an empty round gaze.
The girl was looking up at him. Her face changing over, and over.
"No."
He frowned.
The girls hair was all choppy. It needed to be fixed.
His frown deepened.
When was the last time she had changed? Her clothes needed fixing… he moved his arm to drop her but his body did not listen.
He was touching her choppy hair with an annoyed feeling in his chest.
His pupils widened.
Did these two catch him in a spell of some sort? But he didn't sense a weave?
Who was this girl?
What was going on?
How did they get into his study?
Where was Stephan?
His eyes caught a slight silver sheen.
Dagger.
She had… his dagger?
But that… He turned to Constance with a frigid expression.
"Where are we?"
"The Hollow Mountains. Your under the influence of something toying with your head. We-"
"Stab me."
"Wha-!?!"
The girl stabbed him on the right side of his chest without hesitation.
…But it did not enter.
He was certain of it now.
They were telling the truth.
He would never give that dagger away, unless it was to someone who he saw fit to join him as a family member.
Stephan and Rodrick had one, and if the girl had one as well, that was specially forged by one of his smiths under Ichi, then, he had full trust in the girl.
Despite in his eyes, standing in his study in Loch, with the sun outside giving him a warmth on his skin, and the fresh air in his lungs, he chose to not believe it.
Something was up... and he knew there was only one person who could answer his questions satisfactorily.
"What did I say, before I fully succumbed to the illusion?"
Constance was slightly taken aback by how quickly his tone had shifted, but responded regardless, "You were mumbling something while looking up. I don't know. Something about Flowers…?"
Flowers? He felt like something had pinched his mind. And noted it. If it was flowers, and they were under the Hollow Mountains, it had to be something above.
"How far is the ceiling over my head?" He looked up, his ceiling was perhaps two meters up from the top of his head.
Constance replied evenly, as she braced for the shockwave quickly approaching, "Several hundred meters."
Argo looked around his study that couldn't have been possible, and he didn't know how much he believed her, but, for her to break in unannounced so easily, and for a girl to be with her, with his dagger... he didn't know.
Stephan would have entered by now.
And he didn't have his sword with him.
Rodrick would have appeared as well.
He looked up, but all he saw was the ceiling of his study.
He bent his legs, and his violet aura raged.
If she was with him in the Hollow Mountains, and he had given the girl his dagger, then, that meant that she must already know about his aura.
Noting that she didn't look at all surprised, he added it to the list of reasons to go through with the jump, despite his bodies apparent refusal.
His body screamed not to jump.
To stay on the ground.
That he was just going to make a fool of himself.
Maybe it was one of his Mother's spies, or one of his siblings schemes....
...He chose to trust himself, and the dagger.