(Chapter 88 Nightmare)
Something felt undeniably wrong. Though the woman's appearance was serene, she radiated an unsettling, ominous aura that made the hairs on Tempest's neck stand on end. It was as if she exuded fear itself, a chilling presence that seemed to reach into the very core of the room and twist the air around her. Despite the creeping unease that gnawed at him, Tempest remained composed, his face a mask of stoicism. Not a flicker of emotion betrayed him, his features remaining as unreadable and impassive as ever. He had faced far greater terrors in his childhood, and he wasn't about to let this mysterious stranger see any weakness.
"The sun? Are you referring to me?"
Tempest asked, his voice calm but laced with curiosity as he took a seat on the couch, directly across from the mysterious woman.
She didn't reply immediately, and when she finally spoke, it wasn't to answer Tempest's question. Instead, she shifted the conversation to a completely different topic, her voice soft but carrying an unsettling weight.
"Why didn't you join our little party of friends?"
She asked, her voice soft but laced with an unsettling undertone.
"What?"
Tempest asked, his confusion evident. He searched her face for any hint of what she might be referring to, but her unsettling silence persisted. She simply sat there, her eerie presence filling the room, waiting for him to respond as if the answer were already known to him.
"You mean my decision not to join the Fatui?"
Tempest finally replied, breaking the unnerving silence that had settled between them.
Her stillness remained, the unsettling aura around her unshaken as if she had been waiting for this exact response.
"If that's what you're referring to, the answer is quite simple, I despise the cold, and my homeland is here."
Tempest replied, his voice steady but firm. He leaned back slightly, attempting to project an air of nonchalance despite the unsettling presence before him.
"Do you find solace in serving a fleeting celebrity, or do you crave the power that lies within a true, formidable Archon?"
She asked, her tone laced with a mocking curiosity. t was clear she was referring to Furina as the 'celebrity' while contrasting her with the Tsaritsa, whose strength and authority were undeniable.
Tempest's expression darkened, a flicker of irritation crossing his face as her words struck a nerve. While she may not have directly insulted Furina, the implication behind her comments was clear enough. The way she dismissed Furina as merely a 'fleeting celebrity' felt like a slight, undermining not just his loyalty but also the significance of her position in Fontaine.
"I would much prefer to serve an Archon who genuinely loves her people and is beloved in return than one who presides over an organization notorious for betraying those who have outlived their usefulness."
Tempest asserted, his voice steady yet laced with conviction.
"In every conceivable universe, my actions would lead me to serve Lady Furina rather than bend the knee to your god."
Tempest declared, his voice firm and unwavering, radiating pride and conviction.
Her expression shifted ominously, and for the first time in their conversation, she slowly opened her eyes. They were a striking pink, yet what made them truly unsettling were the multiple smaller eyes scattered across her irises, like a constellation of tiny orbs observing him from all angles.
"Wrong answer."
She said, her voice now laced with a chilling edge that sent a shiver down Tempest's spine.
'Strike first! Strike first! Kill her now!'
Tempest's thoughts raced through his mind in a frantic mantra, urging him to take decisive action before the mysterious woman could make her move. His instincts screamed at him to act swiftly, the primal urge to eliminate a potential threat clawing at the edges of his consciousness. Unbeknownst to him, his body trembled slightly, a physical manifestation of the tension building within him.
And so he acted, manifesting a sword forged from golden flames that materialized in his right arm. Tempest swung the weapon with swift determination, aiming to strike the enigmatic woman before him. But just as the blade was about to connect, a wave of darkness enveloped him, swallowing his vision whole. In an instant, he found himself trapped in a pitch-black void, a disorienting realm where time seemed to stand still.
In the center of this abyss sat the woman, now perched upon an imposing throne, her eyes wide open, fixated on him with an unsettling intensity. Her head rested languidly on both hands, exuding an air of calm that belied the chaos of their earlier confrontation. Behind her loomed an eldritch abomination, a grotesque creature possessing a single enormous eye at its center and adorned with eight vast, feathered wings that pulsated with an unnatural rhythm.
"Have fun~"
She teased, her voice echoing eerily in the void, a playful lilt that contrasted starkly with the ominous atmosphere surrounding them. Before Tempest could process her words, darkness surged once more, enveloping him completely.
When his vision returned, it was as if he had been violently thrust back into reality. He stumbled slightly, finding himself standing at the doorstep of his mansion. The familiar surroundings felt surreal, a stark contrast to the unnerving encounter he had just experienced.
"What the fuck...?"
Tempest muttered under his breath, his voice barely above a whisper as he straightened his posture.
He turned his gaze toward the mansion's windows, only to find the outside world cloaked in an unnerving pitch-black darkness as if the very essence of night had swallowed everything whole. The relentless sound of rain pattering against the glass echoed through the silence, a rhythmic reminder that this was anything but reality.
He stepped closer to one of the windows, peering into the reflective surface, hoping to find a glimpse of himself, a familiar visage to anchor him amidst the chaos. Instead, he was met with the sight of his younger self, a child once more. A bandage was plastered across his cheek, a haunting reminder of past wounds, both physical and emotional. His eyes appeared lifeless as if a heavy veil of despair had settled over them.
He reached for the door, but it refused to yield to his attempts. Frustration bubbled within him as he pushed harder, yet the door remained stubbornly shut. With no other option presenting itself, he steeled his resolve and decided to move forward into the unknown.
"You want to play? Let's play."
Tempest muttered under his breath, a defiant challenge directed at the mysterious woman. It was clear to him that this was her doing, a twisted game crafted to toy with his mind.
Tempest steeled himself as he approached the first door, its surface marked with a simple sign labeled "One." He pushed the door open, revealing a narrow corridor that seemed foreign and unsettling. This was not the mansion he knew, the walls were dimly lit and the air felt thick, almost suffocating.
He stepped inside. Moving cautiously forward, he approached the next door, where another sign read "Two." Each door felt like a passage deeper into the labyrinth of his mind, a realm where reality blurred with nightmares.
As Tempest made his way down the corridor, he noticed that each room he passed contained a closet, almost as if they were scattered throughout the unsettling space like forgotten relics of his past. A wave of unease washed over him at the sight, the mere thought of opening one sent a shiver down his spine. The memory of his Father locking him inside a closet flashed vividly in his mind, a dark, suffocating space where time seemed to stretch endlessly, filled with the echoes of anger and disappointment.
"Seven."
Tempest muttered to himself as he opened the seventh door. As he stepped through the threshold, the lights above him flickered momentarily before stabilizing once again.
"Odd..."
He murmured, a sense of unease creeping into his thoughts.
"Eight."
He murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he pressed on. However, a sense of foreboding gripped him tighter with each step he took. An unsettling sound began to grow louder behind him, a cacophony that sent shivers down his spine as if something was drawing closer, its presence heavy and ominous.
"Shit..."
He muttered, barely managing to suppress the tremor in his voice. It was only then that he realized his hands were shaking uncontrollably, a physical manifestation of the dread coiling in his gut.
With little time to think, he glanced around frantically, searching for a place to hide. Spotting a closet in the corner of the room, he had no choice but to rush toward it. He slipped inside, closing the door quietly behind him. The darkness enveloped him, and he pressed himself against the back wall, straining to hear the approaching sound. The noise pulsed like a heartbeat, growing nearer and more menacing as if whatever was hunting him was intent on finding its prey.
The creature passed by the closet, and for a fleeting moment, Tempest caught a glimpse of its single eye. It was a vivid pink, mirroring the woman's unsettling gaze. His chest pounding like a drum as he held his breath, frozen in fear. He remained hidden in the cramped darkness, focusing on controlling his breathing, each inhale and exhale a desperate attempt to stave off the rising panic within him.
Time seemed to stretch indefinitely as he waited, the silence amplifying the thudding of his heart. After what felt like an eternity, the sound of the creature receded into the distance, leaving him enveloped in an eerie stillness. With a cautious determination, Tempest slowly opened the closet door, peering out into the corridor.
"Why am I afraid? Is it because I'm young again?"
Tempest muttered to himself. Normally, he was the embodiment of stoicism, emotions locked away deep within him, shielded from the world. But here, in this nightmarish realm, the emotion of fear seeped through the cracks of his composure, making its presence painfully evident.
Left with no choice, Tempest pressed onward, acutely aware of the lesson he had just learned, whenever the lights flickered, he needed to find a hiding place quickly. The thought of being caught by that creature sent a chill down his spine, one he was unwilling to experience firsthand. Each flicker served as a harbinger of impending danger, urging him to act swiftly.
"Thirteen..."
Tempest muttered as he stepped through the thirteenth door.
"Water?"
He whispered, taken aback by the sight before him. The room was dominated by a massive window, revealing a vast expanse of water that surrounded the space like a submerged chamber deep beneath the ocean.
As he stepped closer, a creature suddenly lunged into view from outside the window, an entity he had feared deeply during his childhood. A shark, its sleek body gliding through the water, was adorned with multiple green eyes that fixated menacingly on Tempest. His eyes widened in terror, and he instinctively turned away, heart racing as old fears surged back to the surface.
"Look into my eyes. All your friends, your family, your Archon, you'll get to see them again. If you simply look into my eyes."
The shark's voice echoed telepathically in Tempest's mind as he slowly backed away, determined to reach the fourteenth door and ignore the manifestation of his childhood nightmare.
"I know you can hear me talking to you. Don't let her tell you otherwise. Look into my eyes. LOOK into my eyes."
The shark continued, its voice insistent and haunting.
"LOOK into MY eyes! Why are you not looking?! Do you not want to see them again?! Do you not miss them?! Do you hate them?! YOU'LL NEVER GET TO SEE THEM AGAIN UNLESS YOU LOOK INTO MY EYES!"
Tempest resolutely ignored the shark's frantic demands as he opened the fourteenth door. He glanced back, and to his relief, the creature had vanished. Taking a deep, reassuring breath, he felt a sense of triumph wash over him. This was the fear he had buried long ago, and in that moment, he realized he had managed to conquer it once and for all.
This place was a nightmare, each room he passed embodying his deepest fears. He moved through one chamber where everyone wore theater masks, their eyes fixed on him as they whispered the word "Guilty," as he passed by. In another room, he discovered an alternate version of himself standing atop his Mother's grave, a haunting sight in the center of the space. As he continued, he caught a glimpse through a window revealing the Court of Fontaine engulfed by the ocean, a once-proud city now submerged in despair. All the while, he had to remain vigilant, hiding from that creature, which lurked in the shadows and seemed to grow closer each time the lights flickered.
"Twenty-Eight..."
Tempest muttered as he stepped through the door marked with that number. Fatigue weighed heavily on him, and anxiety gnawed at his mind, making it increasingly difficult to maintain his grip on sanity.
This room appeared normal at first glance, but it was clear that something was off. Three pathways branched out from where he stood, each leading to a door marked with the number twenty-nine.
"Brother! Are you there?! Please, come help me! I'm hiding back here!"
The desperate voice of Penance echoed from behind the left pathway. Tempest's eyes widened in shock at the sound of his sister's plea, and without a moment's hesitation, he rushed toward her.
"Penance, are you there?!"
He called out, his heart racing with urgency.
"Yes! Please, open this door, brother!"
She replied, her voice filled with a mixture of fear and hope.
Tempest flung the door open without hesitation, only to be immediately pounced on by Penance. A knife glinted menacingly in her hand, and her expression was one of wild insanity.
"Brother! You came for me!"
She exclaimed, but something was off, this wasn't the Penance he knew.
Reacting instinctively, Tempest dodged the knife thrust and seized her hands, struggling to wrestle the weapon from her grip. With a surge of adrenaline, he shoved her back into the room and quickly slammed the door shut, heart pounding as he fought to regain his composure.
"Brother! Are you there?! Please, come help me! I'm hiding back here!"
She called out again, her voice echoing through the eerie corridor.
"I'm sorry, but you're not her..."
Tempest muttered to himself, backing away from the left pathway. The chilling realization sank in, this was a twisted mirage, a cruel trick of the woman. He couldn't let himself be lured into a trap by the familiar voice, no matter how desperately it pleaded.
He stood in the center of the room, left with two choices: the right pathway or the straight one. Suddenly, the door in the middle glowed with an eerie green light.
'Go straight.'
The voice of Nahida echoed in Tempest's mind, but it was distorted as if she were struggling to communicate through a veil of darkness. The urgency in her tone was palpable, urging him to make a choice and move forward despite the fear that gripped his heart.
"Young Pasha?"
Tempest muttered, his eyes widening in surprise. Relief washed over him at the sound of Nahida's voice, though he couldn't shake the nagging doubt that this might be another trick orchestrated by the mysterious woman. He gulped nervously and approached the center door with caution.
"Penance?"
He called out softly, his voice echoing in the eerie silence. When no answer came, he hesitated for a moment, his heart racing. Gathering his courage, he placed his hand on the doorknob and slowly turned it, bracing himself for whatever lay beyond. To his relief, the fake version of Penance was nowhere in sight.
"Thank you, Young Pasha..."
Tempest muttered though he received no reply. As he stepped through the doorway, he found himself in a narrow hallway that felt strangely suffocating. The next door loomed on the opposite side, flanked by two large windows. Through the glass, he could see nothing but an oppressive darkness shrouded in heavy rain, the downpour casting a sinister atmosphere around him. Thankfully, there was no sign of flooding outside, but the relentless pounding of the rain against the glass only heightened his sense of unease. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever lay ahead as he moved cautiously toward the next door.
"Thirty..."
Tempest muttered, his voice barely breaking the heavy silence as he found himself standing in yet another hallway. Just as he prepared to open the door labeled thirty-one, a chilling voice echoed through the air, his Father's voice.
"Tempest..."
A shiver ran down Tempest's spine as he slowly turned around, his heart racing. He watched in horror as his Father began to emerge from the ground near the thirtieth door, his form grotesquely distorted and unsettling. Shadows danced across the walls, accentuating the unnatural angles of his father's figure, making him appear more like a specter than a man.
"I'LL KILL YOU!"
His Father shouted, the fury in his voice reverberating through the hallway as he rushed toward Tempest.
'Tempest! Run!'