After resigning himself to the choices that he would have to make to ensure his goal's success, Elmer took his eyes from Craig and placed them onto the paper he had received.
What is this…?! His eyebrows creased in an instant as he mumbled in his mind, somewhat shocked at what had appeared before his vision.
It was not anything that would worry anyone who was not him, or anyone who had not grown to find themself focusing on so many subtle details because they were seeking any answers they could find, but since he was both of those things, his mind was a little bit restless.
The words on the paper had been written in thick black ink which looked more and more, with every glance, to not have come out from a pen.
They were italicized—even far cleaner than his—each edge curved so beautifully that it could have never been from a human's handiwork. It seemed to be something out of a typewriter. Though, despite its uniform and precise appearance, something seemed a bit off—something Elmer could not quite put a finger on.
And that feeling was further solidified as he began to read the words on the letter, the first lines giving him the impression that they had been written for him rather than Craig Wiley who had been its recipient.
He had a quiver in his stomach, and the sensation of his wet clothes clinging to his lean body vanished at once, making it seem like he was completely naked, causing a chill equivalent to that of countless cold palms grasping at every part of his body to fall upon him.
But he made sure to hold back the intensity of it all with every breath of air he took in and out, allowing himself to carefully glance over the letter, despite the eeriness each word bore. He needed to read it all without showing even a hint of uneasiness—without succumbing to the fear and hesitance the words were meant to fill him with.
A warning is bestowed upon he who may try to seek what should not be sought. Do not try to search. Do not try to find my whereabouts. Words are to be listened to, and these require a must adherence. Heed them, that is a must.
I am The Messenger, that is what you shall henceforth, for as long as we communicate, know me as.
As you have correctly heard from the countless Alchemists you have visited, you have been tainted, body and soul. Corrupted, but only to a state of half insanity. I do not bear any knowledge on the cause of your predicament, but I will be your helper. I will cleanse you. I will guide you back to sanity.
By now, you must have noticed, you have been granted a very great power, one you must have been unable to control. Already, a few must have been killed unwillingly because of your mere presence. But with my help, that will come to a halt.
Your power is a projection of your fear to be seen as a corrupted one onto those who come across you. Controlling that fear will bring your ability to a halt. Do not want to not be seen. Embrace who you have become, and no one will die from coming in contact with you.
I bring this to your notice because you must have this learned for what you are to do.
Leave Andhera right this instant. Follow the rat sewer line which will bring you to the outskirts of Greenworth, there you shall board a train heading to Ur.
Allow yourself no delays, for you are to meet a man who goes by the name, Elmer Hills, in the process. Fear not when you meet him for he will know my name when you call it. He will be your savior, the one who shall imbue the essence of vitality into the artifact, The Warlock's Torch, that you are to retrieve.
A room beneath the stairs of the unmissable mansion on Farend's Avenue in Ur bears this mysterious artifact that will cleanse you. It is a torch, one that will grant you a wish. Purchase three red candles and use them to set up an altar, placing the candles in a pyramid shape. Have your savior imbue them with the essence of vitality as he will do for the torch, after which you shall recite the prayer I will mention below ten times. Once the torch takes to the air with a blue flame raging fiercely from its sconce, its color constantly changing, then are you to take hold of it and whisper your wish. Only then shall it be granted.
'Nothing is lost. Nothing is unattainable. The creator of all owns all and gives whatever to who He pleases. Ask and unto you it shall be given, it's said. I ask now, grant me my wish.'
And to Elmer Hills you shall relay this information in return for his help: Three drops of blood of the Echelon's Ascender and the corresponding ingredient of the pathway. Only one shall live, otherwise, severe consequences shall befall the second of the two if the original retains their life during the process.
In a scenario that you are unable to have your savior listen to your words, project them to him using this prayer:
'I pray to the Heavens. Listen to my words, and bless this spot with it so that Elmer Hills shall hear them. I project my being, I project myself, I project the words:' You say what you wish him to hear at that point in time.
When that is done, he will find you, and you will be free from your plight.
The letter ended, and so did Elmer's naked sensation.
What is that cryptic information…? Elmer wondered about the information that had been meant for him.
And even though there was a vague idea of what it was talking about welling up inside him, he decided to ignore it at the moment. After all, it seemed like something that would take him quite a deal of time to confirm, if he wanted to be very sure, and he did not have that sort of luxury now. He also, subconsciously, did not want his idea to be true.
What's more, I'm not to seek him…? Does that mean this messenger predicted that I am going to try a divination to find them…? I can't imagine any other way they were talking about, because that's the only available procedure to find someone who has kept everything about them a secret… This messenger is someone I have to be careful of, ally or not…
He rolled the paper and looked up at Craig who had half a face filled with anxiousness—an unrestrainable one—while his mind was still caught in between whether he should go ahead with the divination, despite the warning from the letter, or not.
Even if I later perform the divination, it doesn't matter at this moment… I will simply take the help which has been offered to me for now… I won't let fear or morals stop me from bringing Mabel back to who she was… I have to do what I have to do for my goals, no matter what…
Elmer exhaled and brought forth a mildly exaggerated smile on his face, one any other sane person would have noticed was nothing but fake. Although, not Craig Wiley.
"Let's get you cleansed, shall we?" Elmer said with a low tone as he approached the altar which had been set up on a crate box.
"I… Let me light the candles!" Craig poured out words quickly in a trembling manner that Elmer felt was from the excitement which had gone ahead to cloak the man.
He would have had a little bit of remorse if only he had not forced himself to cage it all. There was no longer any to spare.
"I can do it myself."
Elmer turned to Craig and smiled once more—another mild theatrical smile that came about from the edge of his lips moving up a tad as he pinched his eyes shut softly.
He then put down his revolver to the side of the altar, along with the letter, and went ahead to mutter the prayer for supernatural eyesight, directing the prayer at the essence colors that roamed the other plane mere eyes could not see.
When the prayer had ended and the heat on his eyes had taken its usual single second to subside into warmth, Elmer caught sight of the countless streams of varying colors that flowed like brooks of floating rivers, each one mingling with the other but never mixing with them.
This was the first time he had gazed at them without interruption, and now he saw how beautiful they were. It was like he had been dipped into a rainbow, only it had more and more colors than he could count.
But despite its charm, Elmer only took a moment before he instantly dispelled the brief entrancement that had taken over him.
He quickly dipped his fingers into the bright green that was accredited to vitality, and directed its flow toward the three red candles on the altar.
Recalling Ms. Edna's words on the workings of imbuing spirituality essence into objects, Elmer had a slight worry that the candles would not be able to handle the essence, and in return, crumble.
Though, he quickly rendered that false. Even though he knew not who this messenger was, he had a feeling that they would never not have taken that happening into consideration. So, he came to a deduction himself.
The words from Ms. Edna on charms had been that essence were imbued in them to store powers for future use. As for the candles, they were not being saved for future uses, they would be expended right this instant, and so the mechanics regarding them would differ.
It was either that, or the essence of vitality was not the sort that would cause ruin to objects, insinuating that it did not have destructive powers of any kind like the essence of fire or cold.
This one seemed the most to be correct of the two for him.
But to be on the safe side, Elmer only imbued a small portion of the essence of vitality in each of the candles, taking into consideration Ms. Edna's words on objects crumbling when they could no longer retain the essence that was being poured into them.
From his experience with trees at Meadbray, he had known from a first glance that The Warlock's Torch was made of cedar wood. And seeing as it was an artifact that granted something as grand as a wish, then obviously it might have been made from the cedar trees at Burkney, and wouldn't be like other mere objects that would crumble from being imbued by spirituality essence.
With no fear, Elmer imbued a larger amount of vitality essence into The Warlock's Torch than he had done for the candles. Then he dipped his thumb and forefinger into the streak of red essence color, and brought fire to life atop his thumb's head, using it to light up all the candles.
When he was done, he put an end to his spiritual eyesight and took a step backward after picking up his revolver and the messenger's letter.
"Go ahead," he told Craig Wiley who had been staring at him in awaitance.
The half-insane man nodded silently, then hurried forward and with a visibly quivering body, he started to recite the prayer that had been written in the letter he had received.
"Nothing… Nothing is lost. Nothing is unattainable. The creator of all owns all and gives whatever to who He pleases. Ask and unto you it shall be given, it is said. I ask now, grant me my wish."
The first recitation of ten ended, and Elmer's mind touched upon what he had missed, or rather, glanced over, while he had been reading the letter.
'The prayer was directed to the Creator of all!'
He was not particularly surprised by it, as he had already been enlightened on the existence of such a being, only he was curious as to how the messenger knew about this entity and why the prayer was being directed to them in particular. A God that no one in this era worshipped.
If a wish in time was to be granted, then shouldn't that be something the God of Time should take control of? Something—
Elmer's mind sank all of a sudden, Craig already going ahead to begin his third recitation as soon as his second came to an end.
Since this artifact grants a wish from time, isn't it possible for me to just wish for Mabel to come back to me…?! Could it really work…? Is that possible…?!
Elmer's eyes widened as his stomach clenched hard. And even though his whole being was telling him that what he was thinking of would work, something deep within him was fighting against those thoughts.
The Warlock's Torch was an artifact that granted a wish. He could not remember the giver of this information mentioning any limitations of this special artifact, but in his mind, a singular sentence kept reverberating.
"You can never change your pathway…"
Elmer's body trembled.
Those words, and that option of using The Warlock's Torch. Why had he never thought of it all this time? Why had his thought process been completely clouded?
If The Warlock's Torch was really an omnipotent wishing artifact, then shouldn't those words have been said in some other way? If The Warlock's Torch could only grant him the wish of joining another pathway and not changing his current one, then what did that mean?
His heart hastened as his mind brought up a deduction that frightened him.
Was it that it could not tamper with the results of a direct relation to a God? Was it impossible to wish for Mabel's soul to return back to her body because it had been offered as a direct sacrifice to the God of Souls?
Heat rose beneath his eyelids, and this time not because he had prayed for spiritual eyesight, but because his mind had brought up another notion that completely ripped through all the plans he had made since he was thirteen.
If The Warlock's Torch could not, in truth, grant his wish of bringing Mabel back because her state had come as a result of a direct relation to the God of Souls, then didn't that mean that trying to reverse time for her would as well hit the same roadblock?
Was it possible, somewhere in all the knowledge of the supernatural, for Chronos to reverse time for Mabel, and bring her back to who she used to be, in return, taking away her soul from Azrael? What would become of the ritual that had happened then? The priests that had done it? Would time in itself change—everything that had lead up to this moment?
Could a God really go against the outcome of a ritual to another God?
Elmer instantly felt dizzy as he took a step backward.
No matter how he tried to fight the thoughts he had come to have, he could not help but see sense in them.
It was impossible for a God to go against another God!
He… He had been living a child's dream all this while.
Suddenly, Craig's chants, which had been mumbled to Elmer, faded into oblivion. And with that the visualization of The Warlock's Torch floating a bit over the candles with a blue flame burning in its sconce, appeared before Elmer's eyes.
After a few seconds, the flame began to shift its color, constantly going from blue to green to gray to cream, and to red.
Elmer's mind remained a muddled mess at the sight, almost like what remained of the muddy swamp a pig had dived in after it was done.
He didn't know what to do, what step to take. So he did the only thing he could—what he had resolved his heart to do a while back.
Elmer quickly loosened his waist bag after letting the messenger's letter drop to the floor, then he unzipped it and brought out his license, dipping it into his pocket. Leaving what remained of the forty percent pay he had received for the job he was currently undertaking intact, he zipped his waist bag to a close.
Craig's eyes beamed at what was before him. His wish was going to be granted soon enough.
Following the procedure that had been written in the letter, Craig stretched forth his hand, softly taking hold of the floating Warlock's Torch.
But just as he heaved in a deep breath to mutter his wish to be cleansed, a dull, muffled explosion reverberated through the warehouse. And in the place of words from the tall man came a gurgling sound before a cough of blood, painting his chin crimson red.
He had been shot.