Having multiple bodies at once is a strange experience. If one is knocked out, it is not as simple as turning off live surveillance midway and going on with their life.
Things are never that easy. The world is not fair, it hates all things, and ruins the lives of the good and innocent, so therefore these things must hate the world in return! Eye for an eye, they say!
...just kidding. That was all random nonsense they suddenly thought at the moment for no real reason at all. It's not another piece of glaring evidence, indicating something is very wrong with them.
In any case, things are never that simple. Words are lies, spun by the thoughts of the sentient, for they can never truly describe the truth, whether it be by voice, gestures, or writing, no matter the intent.
For that reason, when they say having multiple bodies doing something different at the same time is similar to multitasking, it is not entirely true, but it was the closest meaning of a word to what could describe the phenomenon that is them. It is beyond what mere words can explain, for the feeling is utterly complex.
They were about to go insane, frustrated from such a chained feeling. It's like there's a mental barrier in their heads- a maze of sorts that's difficult to traverse. If the ending is where they could truly explain it in some manner, then the obstacles were their own mind.
Quite literally, they are trapped in their chaotic, messed up mental world.
'How can we diagnose our condition,' they asked rhetorically.
'The mental condition diagnosed is called insanity,' they responded back. 'We must get it treated as soon as possible.'
'We already know that,' they thought instantly, only to balk at the thought.
The feeling was truly insufferable.
Anyways, when that unfortunate incident happened, they had made headway in their itinerary towards a safe, reading area with no clear directions and plan. However, they did admit having their other self, already in a state of paranoia and anxiety within the darkness, fall into the darkness that was even more eerily familiar to them did 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺 startle them.
They will not admit to having thought about hyperventilating as a form of a protective instinct. They will admit to having froze just briefly- a reaction anyone would have.
Actually, in retrospect, they were quite close to keeling over and giving in to their animalistic desire to scream, run, and do basically anything to try to alleviate such a feeling. Feeling a particular heavy weight pressing down on their chest was not pleasant. Fortunately, two-thirds of their sight remained in the light, balancing things out.
...they had a feeling all their selves falling into slumber to eventually rest their minds will not go well.
Anyways, they digressed in their rant, for only ten minutes after that phenomenon, the two 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 made it to where the library reading area seems to be at. The library was, after all, just too big.
They actually happened upon it- pure happenstance, really. Due to no one being around to give them directions, nor were there any signs, they were just about to give up and start reading in some aisle then and there when they'd just found it.
The reading area was made up of a few rows of tables and chairs, made of some dark, polished, lacquered wood, their legs standing firmly on carpet. Every table was well-polished, each having one candlestick made out of some metallic material sitting right in the center.
Yes, henceforth, everything that cannot be explained shall now thus be delegated to the reason of "because magic."
The walls were darker and warmer in comparison, with sources of light enchanted by some kind of spell placed here and there every so often, illuminating the seemingly darker parts.
Against the far wall was a fireplace, surrounded by a myriad soft, comfortable couches and cotton-like chairs facing it. The hearth was covered and well-placed from any sort of combustible material, also seemingly enchanted with some spell of sorts.
All in all, it seemed as though the person who made this library thought of the proper ambience in a reading environment.
Although it was grand in their own way, compared to the grand, ornate interior of the library, this was more homely. Yet, just like where the books are laid, there were- although far, far fewer- outlines of a wrought-brass-like metal in places mostly hidden from view.
Majestic where it should be, and serene and comforting at where it should be. Credit goes to where credit is due; this place was well thought out.
Speaking of ambience, they could almost feel as though droves of people read here amidst the flickering flames in the fireplace, flipping through pages and quietly breathing. Oh yeah, there should also be that one person coughing every so often.
Yet, under their watchful eyes, they found...no one. The reading area was completely vacant of inhabitants, making the area seem eerily empty. Besides the librarian, they didn't even see anyone today.
A quick glance around told them no one had been here, at least today, judging by how clean the tables are, as well as how four chairs were placed neatly and vertically aligned with each table.
Was today some important day or event?
They perished the thought. They had already wasted enough time complimenting the architect of the library.
The young boy pushed the wheelchair until it faced the table directly, and the girl placed her own book onto the table with a soft 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘥.
Other than the book the young boy found, it was the girl who had found the book they looked for. The book was said to be a very well-informed, and renowned, survival guide book. How did they know without any comments or ratings on it?
The librarian recommended this particular book, of course.
Weirdly enough, there was no name of the author on its cover, nor any mention in the few pages the girl flipped through earlier.
Though slightly smaller in height than the first book, it looked to be on the older side, seemingly made of rough leather brown and dull-looking, as well as travel-worn seeing as it was worn and torn here and there. Just the standard, seemingly ordinary old book no one would bother checking if no one had recommended it.
Now that they thought about it, shouldn't they have taken the recommendation with a grain of salt? Wasn't the normal reaction of a rational person to have even the slightest bit of hesitation in trusting the words of a stranger?
Hmm.
Anyways, if there was any hesitation at all when they found it, surely whatever concerns they had didn't matter now that time is of the essence.
Moving around and quickly pulling out a chair, the young boy placed his book on a table, producing a more heavier 𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘥 that echoed in the quiet area. He would've winced at the sound if there were people around him.
Like a person running out of time, he urgently sat down, scooted in, reached out his hand and...paused.
He didn't know why he stopped. There was just a strange- a peculiar feeling stirring in his chest: heavy and suffocating. His mind was embroiled in countless thoughts, each waging war against the other for some unknown reason. In the end, he- no, they confirmed there was something inside them that prevented him from taking the final step.
Why? Was there a good reason to? Was it dangerous?
His eyes danced across the book's cover once again, with the words "[Taboos Inside the Dungeons]" etched delicately in its leathery surface. Once again, the feeling as though the book's peculiar attraction began to pull at him again, begging him to discover its secrets began. His fingers caressed the strangely warm cover, closing his eyes and sighing as the voices spoke to him, ushering him to open it.
Suddenly, the two children looked up at each other and opened their mouths, only to close them and looked back down on their respective books.
They both abruptly sighed in unison.
Though they disagreed on some things, there was something else they agreed on.
"Talking and debating to ourselves in a public space is not a good idea," they both said simultaneously in agreement.
The voice of reason says it's dangerous, and the risks were very, very high, but didn't the voice also say that taking risks may bring great rewards? If people don't risk anything, then they truly can't win big in life!
Hmm? What did they also say? High risks, and so therefore high rewards, also brings great danger that may destroy one's future and happiness seemingly forever?
Hmmmmm. Hmmmmmmmmm.
'We're insane,' the boy thought, and thus the floodgate to all that is perilous to this world opened.
...
...
...
Nearly five hours later, the young boy leaned back against the wooden backrest of the chair, his numb arms dangling down his sides.
The library was noticeably becoming darker, seeing as though outside the windows the sun was setting, turning the blue sky into a more orange-yellow hue.
On the table, a pair of pencils and sheets of white paper were messily spread around on the table, filled with countless, undecipherable symbols and letters.
Conveniently enough, it turns out the library's staff were competent and seemed to have foreseen those who studied, researched, or simply read here to not bring their own materials. So, they laid neat stacks of paper and pencils on hand for public use in bins for those studying on the far table against the wall.
While the girl in the wheelchair beside him kept speed running through the survival guide, the sound of pages flipping left and right echoed in the silent library, he leaned his head until it laid against the topmost part of the headrest. His strained eyes blankly looked up to the ceiling far, far above him.
He listlessly stared at the hidden shadows along the corners and edges of each arc as the pounding headache in his pain wouldn't abate whatsoever. The grooves and ridges. The well polished dark wooden walls. The brass outlines and chandeliers.
He stared at everything he can see up there, and seemingly 𝘣𝘦𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘥 that.
After a long, long while, they suddenly flinched. As they noticed the body of their other self began stirring from their slumber, the young boy and girl looked at each other and stared into each other's eyes.
The feeling was still jarring, like looking through a mirror of another mirror. It hasn't even been a full day since they "woke up."
Speaking of full days, it hasn't even been a full day, and yet here they were, doing all this planning and whatnot nonsense.
Only madmen would relax at this moment.
Wait.
The young boy immediately hurriedly leaned back over the strange book he was reading. Even now, the feeling it gave off pulled at him. It wasn't really strong, more like the urge to close their eyes when tired, even if for a brief moment, but they can feel it.
Well, they have officially gone insane.
...
...
...
The young man first heard the sounds of unintelligible chanting, and whispers before he came to. Like talking from another room, with a wall in between them, it was muffled and soft, only loud enough to rouse him from slumber.
Next, he felt his body being bound tightly, especially around both his wrists and feet. As he tried to move them, only to no avail at the resistance of his bindings, he frowned as a biting, cold chill wrapped around him in a cold embrace, more so against the bare skin on his back.
Then suddenly, the thick, rancid smell of smoke and pungent rotten flesh and blood entered his nose.
Wrinkling his nose, moaning as his mind and body were in a groggy state, he struggled to open his eyes- only to be hit with instant regret, wincing as light suddenly flooded his vision. Forcibly adjusting through the pain, with another few seconds later, he soon found himself in a large, circular room.
Then suddenly, information suddenly flooded his brain from his other selves, and his grogginess suddenly disappeared as his eyes widened abruptly.
With the top of the ceiling so far above the brightest torch cannot illuminate it, he can only see the torches placed along the circular, stone walls every so often. Where these torches were specifically placed, however, were more akin to a pillar, rather than the wide, flat walls, for what laid upon each of them were ancient-looking murals. Between every pillar lying against the wall, these murals, faint, discolored, and murky with age, perhaps depicted something that would be important if the young man had paid attention to it.
However, what attracted his attention was not the room, but the inhabitants in it.
Cloaked in ragged, dark-brown robes, five stood in a circle around him.
With their backs only illuminated by the torches behind them, it casted shadows in the front of their bodies, and any sort of description or detail were darkened and mostly indefinable. The most indefinable place where he couldn't see anything at all was where their faces were supposed to be, concealed in darkness covered by the thick, heavy hoods.
Shrouded in darkness and mystery, it was as though a dark veil was placed over where their faces should be. He couldn't even see a sliver of their chin.
What really creeped him out was simply these "people" being as still as a statue. Not a step forward, backward, no swaying, and their arms were only placed against their sides.
Instead, they just eerily, silently, and seemingly looking at him. That was all it took for the hairs on the back of his neck to rise.
These were the second inhabitants he found in the dungeon, and judging by the first inhabitant he found...lets just say he didn't feel welcomed.
However, it wasn't exactly, and entirely, eerily quiet. The voices when he first came to- not the voices in his mind, but seemingly actual voices- seemed to "flow" out from under their hoods.
They were like faint chants- whispering and mutterings of words that were unintelligible to his ears- seemed to manifest from their bodies and into reality, making the air around these hooded figures strangely distorted. He can't deny that perhaps some of it, or maybe even all of it, were all illusions played by the mind.
Or perhaps everything was just another hallucination happening at the wrong time, where the voices played tricks on him. This wouldn't be the first time it happened.
Nonetheless, eeriness surrounding them made the hairs on the back of the young man's neck rise, but still, he held his tongue, for it was what he would come to see that would stun him.
His eyes then traveled to the ground, where he saw a red circle drawn on the stone floor. Within the circle and lines, they were filled with countless, undecipherable symbols, large and small, placed here and there in some manner of order.
The torches illuminating the room from afar didn't assist making even the larger symbols more discernible. It became incredibly more difficult, as the flickering light casted shadows multiple times over the symbols and lines.
The young man gulped.
After very carefully studying the circle, there was a growing feeling inside him that- a heavy feeling in his chest. There was also a thought hoping that whatever was used to draw this was some kind of red paint, but he- no, they all knew better.
"Excuse me," he began, only to wince at the hoarseness.
"𝘒𝘶𝘩𝘶𝘮," he began again with a cough. "Sorry for intruding on whatever you're doing, but can you please let me down?"
The seconds passed by as the only response he got was silence. He started to feel pretty awkward. Perhaps it was more leaning towards ignoring him, or maybe they didn't understand what he was saying.
What they were saying, however...it was strangely familiar...
The young man couldn't help lick his lips. They were very, very dry.
'I'll take that as a yes, then.'
With that thought in mind, he tried to wriggle out of his bonds- slightly and as inconspicuous as possible at first, of course. Keeping an eye on the shadow-covered hooded figures below, and seeing they naught but only did their emo-thing, he began upping his efforts. It didn't take long to realize it was all in vain as the ropes instead magically grew 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳.
What kind of sorcery was this? No wonder these guys didn't deign to respond! These cultists covered all their bases, apparently- at least give him more room to struggle futilely!
Why did he just assume they're cultists? It's so obvious already.
Also, these ropes gave him a strange feeling. With his observations, he found these ropes looked and felt to be made out of some kind of...intestines?
Another thought flicked in his mind- a possible, most horrid, suspicious one at that- but he quickly smothered it with grease and lit it on fire.
However, the thought and idea continued to spring up in his mind no matter what he did.
As his eyes examined his surroundings, desperate to think of something else or try to find a way out, he bent his head forward, which was thankfully not tied. In these dark times, he took whatever he got, giving him some modicum of relief, only for it to be dashed away by what he saw.
Far beneath him, half a meter or so below his feet, were stacks upon stacks of logs of wood placed chaotically beneath him- or more specifically, around the cold, stone statue he was tied on.
The young man swallowed his saliva full of pangs of fear and anxiety.
It was plain evident what is happening, what is used for this to happen, and what 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 happen.
Anyone with common sense and knowledge would know what is happening! What had happened is that they had tainted him! Yes, they stripped him naked of the small, ragged pieces of clothes he had worn!
They took the only remaining piece of dignity he had-!
'Wait,' the young man suddenly thought.
Didn't he leave that back in that cell after he laid upon dried, sticky stains of blood and clumps and pieces of rotten meat?
Hmm.
'Help me, guys!' he thought with an intensity that bordered on outright panic. 'Are you guys seeing this? Help me, please...!'
Oh right, they're all the same person.
'Well, we're insane,' the young man confirmed again. Didn't they know this already? Why do they keep reconfirming it again?
Were they really that unconsciously hesitant to truly confirm their insanity?
By then, in a matter of seconds, after half a minute of observing his surroundings, he "knew" what he should know, and what his other selves had learned.
The strange feeling then brewed in their chest again. The jarring feeling of thinking and doing different things at the same time. Was it plugging and connecting their "minds" after finding a "signal" really the best they can describe this feeling?
They don't know. They just don't know enough.
With that thought in mind, he aimed his eyesight towards the bloody-red, sacrificial, and ominous circle beneath him.
Meanwhile, as the young man kept a watchful eye on the hooded figures and the symbols on the floor, in the grand lustrous library, the two children were quickly jotting down the symbols, their pencils dancing across the sheet of paper like someone rushing to finishing their tests before time is up.
The girl in the wheelchair had already long since set aside her own book. Sharing the eerie book between them, she assisted the young boy in his hurried madness.
They took note of the symbols they know, and the ones they don't or are hesitant, one quickly flipped through the pages of the strangely warm book to discern its true meaning while the other moves on to the next to not waste time.
During this time, they couldn't help but think it truly was very convenient to have one pair of eyes looking, and another two pairs of eyes and hands to write it all down, decipher, and discern.
Truly, having multiple bodies to do a single task speeds up efficiency. They pity those people with single bodies.
Sorry, they didn't intend to insult the poor folks like that. They're truly unfortunate, never having had the opportunity of the feeling of controlling completely separate bodies.
Oops, they digressed. Why did they even digress and think of such a thing during such an urgent time again? Their minds seem to tend to be distracted many a times.
Anyways, sometimes, once every few seconds or so, they would grab a paper they had written before- usually by digging through the messy and scattered pieces of paper- look at it, and only to toss it aside to find the next one or return back to their messy scribbles.
Their chaotic minds worked on overdrive, calculating this and that with knowledge they shouldn't have and know. During the time they read, they somehow understand some things, and yet when they don't, they somehow just 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸. Even in their insanity, they knew something was wrong, but they pushed past it, the warning disappearing into the background.
These pieces of knowledge, these "puzzle pieces," appeared in their minds and on paper. In their eyes, they connected with one another, and then another, and then another. Sometimes they break apart, and sometimes they don't fit, and so they had to change it all up again.
They were doing the equivalent of spiritual hop-scotch, calculus, "Where's Waldo," an enormous jigsaw puzzle, and coding with Java all at the same time and multiplied by a hundred- maybe even more in terms of difficulty-
Just as they were writing, they suddenly froze.
'"Hop-scotch?" What is that? Who is "Waldo?" Coding? Java? What are these things?'
They sound so familiar, and yet so incredibly unfamiliar and distant at the same time? Why? Why? Why-?
A sudden slight pang of pain pulsates within their heads, and they all wince in unison.
Just as soon as it appeared, it quickly disappeared just like that, taking the pain and thought away with it. They could only shake their heads before resuming their respective tasks.
They would be fools to not be able to understand that there's something wrong with them. That thought was just one of many they had since they woke up, and each time those brief nuggets of thought faded away just like the majority of their concerns and thoughts.
Yet, even if they try to recall, it was like trying to grasp the moon's reflection on the water's surface: illusory and ethereal.
It was just like last time, and this time wouldn't be the same, and the same could be said for the future.
Thus, with their efforts, eventually, a picture gradually began to shape in their minds, reflecting the papers they have written.
People who would observe this madness would describe this as pure manifestations of chaos- the opposite of neat and orderly.
Perhaps some could reach further and say this reflects their state of mind as well.
Anyways, although they had roughly made an outline in their "blueprint," it looked to be doable.
They could see it.
Their desperation, hard work, blood, sweat, and tears seemed to finally achieve something for once! They could do it! They really could! So, they raised a metaphorical red flag, as they seemed to see the light at the end of the tunnel!
Then, as though some higher being said "no," what they feared had begun.
Suddenly, under the worried eyes of the young man, the light illuminating the mostly darkened room seemed to light up a bit brighter and hotter. The dancing, flickering flames grew larger, becoming a more eerie red, and the smell of smoke that entered his nostrils seemed to become more intense.
The blood-red lines drawn look to eerily glisten under the bloody light, like it had yet to be dried after being painted. A rather sickening feeling of fascination welled up inside of them- or rather the young man- as he could only watch as the still, five hooded figures surrounding him finally moved.
The young man couldn't help but notice how they hauntingly moved. Not only were their movements strange, they moved unnaturally stiff, like puppets on strings.
Walking stiffly as though they hadn't moved for a long, long while, they ambled their way towards him. Every small step they made was excruciatingly slow, and each step made his heart skip a beat every time.
They moved just like that until they stood right at the edge of the circle.
When they stopped, the young man realized, although hadn't know when, he no longer heard them whispering. None of them did.
They did not notice, and so he could only watch, and the children paused slightly before scribbling away.
The silence was truly heavy, so heavy and thick it made the young man increasingly more nervous. He- no, they could all physically and mentally feel it: the hooded figures' excitement at what is to come.
He instinctively gulped once again.
Perhaps their previous whispering and muttering chants were a sign- a prelude to what is about to happen, and none of them wanted "what is to come."
Icky drops of sweat began to pool on his forehead and back, giving him an uncomfortably hot, sticky feeling. Once it got heavy, some of it began to slowly fall downwards. Some of them streaked across his cheeks, while some slid down the ridge of his nose. Although they were slightly distracting, making the urge to itch it grow stronger, it couldn't compare to the few that flowed into his eyes, stinging them like the reaction of eyes instinctively closing tight to raw, fresh onion.
The young man instinctively tried to wipe it away, only to remember his arms were still tied to whatever he was on. He then tried to shake his head and blink it away, only to wrinkle his nose at the futility of it all.
Whatever was going to happen would decide this body's fate, and what they planned might go awry because of sweat?! The weakness of human flesh-!
In that moment, at the worst time, fate reared its ugly head.
A sudden strike of pain bolted through their mind. Unlike the other headaches earlier, it was so mind-numbingly painful, just the aftereffects of the initial pulse of pain made them unable to do anything at all.
In that time, they all simultaneously recoiled in pain in some fashion.
The girl's face wrinkled in agony, and her frail body trembling. The young boy pressed his hands against his temples, shuddering and unable to even move his own thin body consciously. Last, the young man's back abruptly arched backwards as his body shook and jolted, with his own limbs unconsciously lashing out against his bindings, only for the ropes to tighten even further.
They all silently screamed at the world, only for it to remain silent.
As the world remains silent, uncaring of their agony, like they had waited for such a thing; like they had orchestrated; like they had arranged it all beforehand, in silent unison, the hooded figures- nay, cultists quietly raised their arms and begun 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨.
Then, the world in the young man's eyes- in all of their eyes- became a roaring, fiery, agonizing hell.