Manon was slumped against the cold wall, her eyes wide with a cocktail of pain and resignation. The bathroom smelled of iron; blood, much too much of it, pooled around her. I fell to my knees beside her, my hands, desperate and shaking, pressing down on her stomach in a futile attempt to stem the flow. Her hands, trembling yet determined, caught mine.
"Felix," she whispered, her voice a fragile thread of sound. "I have to tell you..."
"Save your strength," I urged, panic strangling my words. "I'll get Liora. She'll-"
She shook her head slightly, a wane smile flickering on her pale lips. "I am pregnant, Felix."
The world spun dizzyingly around me. "Manon, why—"
"Felix Baptiste," she continued, her eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that burned. "Guy... he practically didn't give me a choice." A slight chuckle ended her sentence.
"Manon, guess what Felix and I found! Manon, Felix killed three wargs! Manon, we found Shangri la. Manon..." A single tear fell down her cheek. "He loves you more than me. If I die he'll mourn, for sure. But Felix, he would kill himself over you. You needed this, right?"
Tears blurred my vision, hot and angry. "Don't talk like this. You're going to be okay. It'll be okay. We'll get you help. LIORA!"
"No." Her grip tightened, a feeble attempt to convey urgency. "Felix. Promise me. You won't. Don't tell Guy. About the baby, about how... not how I ended things."
I returned to reality with a strike across my face.
"Why would you ask this of me?" My voice broke, the gravity of her request sinking in like the cold from the tiled floor. "I can't keep this from him... He deserves-"
"It would break him." Manon gasped with each word. "He is too kind a man, but I've seen your soul through your eyes. You are not a kind man. Because-"
A gulp of blood escaped her mouth, trailing down her chin.
"Because," she coughed, a splatter of blood tainting her lips, "if you stay away from him, from everyone, I can bear not going to Heaven for this sin. You can take my guardian angel, Felix. I don't mind, just help Guy's by never being in his life again."
"Manon, I can't—"
"Promise me, Felix!" The sharpness in her voice was a stark contrast to her weakening body. "Promise me, never see him again. That's enough."
I nodded, the weight of her life ebbing away under my hands cementing my vow. "I promise, Manon. I promise."
"The blood of the innocent, the water of the womb, the ember of a fledgling soul, the untapped potential of a full lifetime..." Her eyes began to glow. "Great Mediator, Come forth."
My godfather burst into the room with a flash of golden light and a wave of impossible power.
"I willingly forfeit myself and my child to the benefit of Felix Ripley Evander Tresmegistus. You know my wish."
He blinked solemnly with a subtle nod and reached out above her, catching something invisible in his hand. A shrill, yet beautiful voice, pierced the air. His second hand caught another unseen. My blood broiled as I recoiled in pain. Two silhouettes made from flecks of light formed in his hands. The particles transmigrated from the air into my skin, searing their way to my soul.
Her eyes, once vibrant with a fierce kind of freedom, dimmed slowly. "Thank you," she breathed out, her last words a whisper lost to the sterile chill of the room.
All of her blood, her skin, her hair, her everything evaporated into silver dust. It drifted into me just like the light. The last of the gold dust settled into me, accompanied by even greater torment. I glimpsed the mirror as my hair changed from red to blonde, my eyes from hazel to yellow. Dizzy, I slipped, almost cracking my head against the sink.
"Easy child." He pushed his hand into my head, sorting the new power. "It will be easier subdivided."
He then vanished with a burst of light and gust of wind as he came. The door to the bathroom swung slightly as a draft caught it, the mundane sound a harsh return to a reality where Manon's voice would never again fill the air. I stayed there, on the cold floor, long after her last breath, long after the mountain winds had whispered their mournful lullabies through the hostel windows.
The humid air of the ancient forest was thick with the scent of moss and decay. The mission had led us to the heart of an old Celtic stronghold, where it was rumored the Pair Dadeni, the mythical cauldron of rebirth, was hidden. Manon, Liora, Guy, and I moved with cautious steps through the overgrown ruins, our eyes scanning for any sign of the Morrigan, the phantom queen known to guard this sacred artifact fiercely.
As we approached a clearing, shrouded in a dense mist that seemed to swallow sound, the air grew colder, an unnatural chill that hinted at the presence of something ancient and powerful. "Stay close," I whispered, my hand instinctively reaching for the talisman hanging around my neck.
Suddenly, the mist swirled violently, and the Morrigan appeared before us. Her form was both beautiful and terrifying, draped in a cloak of raven feathers that seemed to absorb the weak light of the forest. Her eyes, dark as the night sky, fixed on us with a predatory glare.
"You tread on sacred ground," she hissed, her voice echoing around the clearing. "What makes you think you are worthy?"
Before we could answer, she attacked, moving with a speed that blurred her form. Guy reacted first, firing shots from his enchanted revolvers, the bullets traced with runes that glowed in the dim light. The Morrigan deflected them effortlessly with a wave of her hand, her laughter ringing out like the call of a crow.
Manon stepped forward. She unleashed a torrent of holy flames towards the Morrigan, who recoiled slightly from the blaze. Liora joined in, chanting incantations that strengthened Manon's fire, weaving complex patterns in the air that turned the flames a deep, searing rainbow.
I saw an opening and darted towards the cauldron, hidden beneath an ancient oak. The Morrigan noticed and, with a furious screech, sent a bolt of dark energy directly at me. It struck me squarely in the chest, throwing me back with such force that I slammed into the tree behind me.
Pain exploded through my body, and I felt the threads of life beginning to fray. I struggled to breathe, each gasp a sharp stab of agony. Guy and Manon rushed to my side, their faces etched with concern.
"A fallen warrior.... very well."
Yet, as the moments passed, a subtle shift in the air caught my attention. It was Liora—her stance too tense, her gaze too flitting between the cauldron and the shadows where the Morrigan had vanished. There was a calculative chill in her eyes that hadn't been there before, a detachment that set my nerves on edge.
"Liora," I began, my voice hoarse from the ordeal, "you did well with the incantations. Thank you." I attempted to gauge her response, looking for any sign of the camaraderie that had always defined our dynamic.
She nodded, a smile playing on her lips, but it didn't reach her eyes. "It wasn't just for you, Felix," she replied, her tone light, yet I detected a strain there, something forced.
Guy, still vigilant, was cleaning his revolvers, his back to us. Manon was preoccupied with sealing the cauldron, ensuring no residual magic lingered to attract unwanted attention. It was the perfect moment for quiet words, and perhaps, I feared, quiet betrayals.
"Why do I feel like there's more you want to say?" I asked Liora, stepping closer, lowering my voice. "We've always been straightforward with each other."
Liora hesitated, then her expression hardened. "Because there is more, Felix. This... all of this," she gestured around us, "it's spiraling out of your control. And I can't just watch you destroy everything you touch."
I frowned, confused and hurt by her accusation. "Destroy? Baby, I'm trying to fix things, to correct past mistakes."
"That's just it, Felix. Your fixing always comes with a cost. A cost others pay." She stepped back, her hand subtly moving towards a pouch at her belt, her fingers brushing against the relics we'd collected over the years—relics imbued with powers not just to bind spirits, but perhaps, to sever ties deeper than magic.
"Is that what this is about? You think I'm using you?" My voice rose, tinged with anger and disbelief.
"No," she said sharply, "I think you're using all of us. And I can't—won't—let that continue."
Before I could respond, before I could even process her words fully, Liora pulled a small, intricately carved amulet from her pouch. The air around us thickened, heavy with the power of her betrayal as she began an incantation, the words not meant to heal or protect, but to banish.
"Liora, what are you doing?" Manon's voice cut through the tension, filled with shock and fear as she turned from the cauldron.
But Liora didn't stop. The amulet glowed fiercely, a beacon of her resolve. "I'm sorry, my love," she said, her voice breaking. "But this ends now."
The magic unleashed from the amulet struck me like a wave, overwhelming the cauldron's recent healing. I felt my energies being siphoned, my strength ebbing away rapidly as if the very life was being drained from me.
"Guy! Manon! Help—" My plea choked off as darkness edged my vision, the forest spinning wildly around me.
Guy spun around, revolver in hand, but he hesitated. Manon rushed towards me, her own spells ready, but the force emanating from Liora's amulet created a barrier she couldn't breach.
As I collapsed, the ground rushing up to meet me, Liora's face was the last thing I saw, tormented and tearful, yet resolute. My last breath was a whisper of betrayal, a friend's name fading into the silence of the ancient woods.
As consciousness slipped away, I found myself adrift in an ethereal expanse, a realm where the laws of physics and the boundaries of time seemed irrelevant. The afterlife, a place I had often speculated about but never truly prepared to enter, now cradled me in its ambiguous embrace. Here, the colors were muted, as if washed out by an unseen tide, and the sounds were like distant echoes of a world I had once known.
Floating in this boundless void, I felt an eerie calm wash over me, a stark contrast to the chaotic final moments of my mortal life. The weight of my deeds, both good and ill, hung heavily around me, invisible chains forged from every choice I had ever made. I moved—or rather, was moved—by forces unseen, pulled inexorably towards a destination known only to those who had charted this path before me.
As I drifted, glimpses of my past flickered before me like fragments of a dream. Laughter shared with Manon and Guy on a sunlit day that seemed a lifetime away; Liora's face, twisted with conflict as she unleashed the magic that would end my life; the countless faces of those I had saved and those I had failed. Each memory was a stitch in the tapestry of my existence, and now, as I moved towards perdition, I wondered about the pattern they formed.
Whispers filled the air around me, the voices of souls long lost, each sharing their own tales of sorrow and redemption. Their words melded into a haunting melody that seemed to guide my journey, a reminder that I was not alone in this voyage into the unknown.
The light ahead grew brighter, a radiant beacon that promised revelation or perhaps oblivion. As I approached, the reality of my situation settled in: there would be no return to the world of the living, no chance to right the wrongs I had left behind. This was the end of the line, the final chapter in the book of Felix Ripley Evander Tresmegistus.
Yet, even as resignation filled me, a spark of the defiance that had characterized my life flickered within. Was this journey truly predetermined? Was there no chance for a soul as tarnished and as driven as mine to find a different path, even here in the afterlife?
The light enveloped me, and all thoughts ceased, save one—a whisper of hope, or perhaps delusion, that even in perdition, a man like me might still shape his destiny.
I gasped, air rushing into my lungs as if I'd been submerged underwater for an eternity. The world spun momentarily as I shot upright, my hands grappling against the sides of the ancient cauldron, the Pair Dadeni, as if to affirm my own solidity. Water—imbued with magic beyond my deepest understandings—dripped from my hair and clothes, pooling around the base of the mystical vessel.
The first things I saw as my vision cleared were the concerned faces of Manon and Guy, their expressions a mix of relief and shock. Manon's eyes, wide with an emotion that teetered between hope and disbelief, searched mine for some sign of the man I had been before. Guy, ever the stoic, showed his relief more subtly; the slight easing of tension in his shoulders and the forward lean of his posture spoke volumes.
"Is he... are you really back?" Manon's voice trembled, breaking the heavy silence that had fallen around us.
I swung my legs over the edge of the cauldron, my movements still unsteady as I acclimated to the reality of being alive, truly alive, once more. The ground felt unusually firm under my feet, grounding me back to a world I had thought to leave behind permanently only moments—or was it lifetimes?—ago.
"Yeah," I managed, my voice raspy, as I stood, feeling the lingering warmth of the cauldron's waters combating the chill of the forest air. "I guess I am."
Guy stepped forward, offering a hand to steady me, his grip firm and reassuring. "We weren't sure... when you didn't wake up right away..."
His voice trailed off, the unspoken fears of the last few minutes hanging between us. I clapped him on the shoulder, grateful for his concern, and perhaps more grateful for his unyielding presence at my side through every trial.
"Thanks for not giving up on me," I said, offering a wry smile that felt unfamiliar on my face after the ethereal experiences of the afterlife.
Manon, her composure regaining its usual strength, stepped closer, her gaze intensively scrutinizing me. "What happened? You were gone, really gone, and then just... back."
Her curiosity was a balm to the residual disorientation of death and resurrection. I took a deep breath, the details of my journey through the afterlife still vivid and disarming in their clarity.
"It was like drifting in a sea of memories and possibilities," I began, my voice growing stronger with each word. "I saw things, the weave of fate itself, maybe. But it seems the cauldron... It has... It pulled me back."
As I spoke, I could feel the truth of my own words settling into my bones. The Pair Dadeni hadn't just restored my life; it had altered something fundamental within me. It chipped away at something crucial to humanity, mortality.
Manon and Guy exchanged a look—a mix of worry and wonder—and I knew there would be more questions, more tests to confirm that I was still myself. But for now, standing there between them, feeling the solid earth beneath my feet and the lingering touch of magic in my veins.
My memories conflicted with themselves. Manon... my death, her death... Liora's betrayal. I could not remember. Before I could try and force the visions to benefit me, to sort through past reality, I fell back through the world and landed in a dusty crater tainted by the sins of god and man.
Standing up, I briskly wiped the mud from my arms and legs, feeling a renewed vigor pulsing through me—a stark contrast to the somber, reflective mood of Guy and Liora, who watched me with a blend of relief and exasperation etched across their faces.
"It's time to leave," I announced, patting down my jacket with a final, nonchalant swipe. The simplicity of the statement hung oddly in the air, almost discordant with the gravity of what had just transpired.
Guy and Liora exchanged a quick, incredulous look before bombarding me with a barrage of questions and accusations, their voices overlapping in a cacophony of concern and moral unrest.
"Mon ami, we have been here for forty-eight days!" He aggravatedly said, "Forty-eight days while you laid, unmoving, unresponsive."
With a second look, I noticed camping supplies and wards laid out around the crater. Multiple signs of fire and meals. A faint shimmer surrounded the perimeter, looks like Liora is not completely useless.
"Felix, you can't just brush off what happened! You killed a god!" Liora's voice was sharp, her usual calm demeanor frayed by the events.
"And what now? We just walk away like it's any other day?" Guy added, his tone laced with a mix of anger and disbelief, the implications of my actions weighing heavily on him.
"Yeah." I said.
I continued brushing off my clothes, deliberately focusing on a stubborn patch of dirt on my sleeve as their words washed over me. The questions, the accusations—they were all valid, yet they felt distant, like echoes of a concern that should have been mine but felt oddly misplaced.
"But Felix—" Liora started, only to be cut off by a raised hand from me.
"Liora, Guy," I finally spoke, my voice even, betraying none of the turmoil that their questions suggested should be there. "We've done what needed to be done. Lingering on the past, even a past as fresh as this, isn't going to help us with what comes next."
Guy and Liora followed, their steps reluctant but inevitable, each lost in their own thoughts about the ramifications of our actions, both immediate and distant.
As we turned to leave, the silence of the crater was shattered by a sequence of sharp, bright flashes that punctuated the dusk like camera flashes at a midnight event. Within moments, the entire crest of the crater was encircled by men who violated the sanctity of the barrier, bypassed with teleportation.
The uniforms were strikingly all-black and standardized, giving away no specific affiliation but exuding a chilling efficiency. Each man was equipped with what appeared to be advanced weaponry, all trained directly on us. Their presence was sudden and overwhelmingly competent, and the air thickened with the palpable menace of a well-oiled clandestine operation dedicated to maintaining the status quo.
The men advanced, their movements synchronized and deliberate. They formed a tight perimeter around us, their weapons never wavering. It was clear they were not just any rogue outfit.
"You are meddling in affairs that exceed your understanding and jurisdiction," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.
I opened my mouth, a sharp retort ready to challenge their sudden encroachment on our discovery, but before I could speak, the leader of the group—a stern-faced man with eyes as cold and hard as flint—pulled one hand from his pocket and raised his arm, and the squad unleashed a volley of brutally efficient deterrents.
I managed to dodge the initial salvo, weaving an impromptu shield of air with a flick of my finger.