Next to her stood another figure, a head full of reddish-brown hair glimmering like autumn leaves kissed by the golden sun. She looked concerned, perhaps? But as the darkness began to pull him under once more, he couldn't be sure.
With a final, fleeting thought that danced tantalizingly on the edge of his consciousness, he fell back into the abyss, the last remnants of awareness fading like a distant echo, swallowed by the void.
Asher's consciousness plummeted from the endless void, plunging into the familiar echoes of his memories once again. This time, he found himself standing in the kitchen of his old apartment, ready to face the world for his interview.
He finished his breakfast, making sure to tidy the mess, and grabbed his umbrella. Just as he locked his door, he looked up in time to catch a young girl doing the same. She had shoulder-length brown hair that fell in long, springy curls. Her hazel eyes sparkled as she turned toward him, and he offered a polite smile. Janice, whom he'd never really spoken much to, responded in kind before walking toward him.
But this time, as he glanced at Janice, he noticed a familiar hint of mischief dancing in her eyes.
"Nothing to do but to do it," he muttered to himself.
Asher put on his hat before turning toward her, forcing a beaming smile.
"Lovely morning, isn't it, Janice?"
"Indeed, Mr. Moretti. Please make sure to stay warm."
As she passed him, a sweet aroma wafted through the air—cinnamon, rose water, and cloves. It was a comforting scent, one that wrapped around him like a warm embrace.
He waited for her to walk toward the parlor before heading downstairs. As he opened the door, it took a bit of willpower not to close it and promptly retire to his warm bed.
Asher's thoughts raced as the sweet scent enveloped him, tugging at the edges of his memory. The familiar aroma sent a shiver down his spine, a reminder of Renee and the strange connection they shared. He felt the urgency of the situation pulling at him, like an anchor dragging him deeper into murky waters.
Instinctively, he connected his soul with the ring—a pulsating presence that thrummed within him. He summoned a torrent of sickly black darkness from the depths of his being, feeling its cold embrace wrap around him like a shroud. It was a power he both feared and revered, a force that had saved him before and now coursed through his veins.
With a deep breath, he pulled the darkness inward, focusing every ounce of his will into his voice. "Break," he commanded, the word escaping his lips like a gunshot in the silence.
The air around him crackled with energy, the very fabric of reality trembling at his command. The darkness responded, twisting and coiling, seeking to break free from its bonds. Asher felt a surge of exhilaration and terror wash over him; he was tapping into something primal, something that defied the boundaries of his existence.
In an instant, the world around him shifted. The comforting scent of cinnamon and rose water faded, replaced by an oppressive weight that pressed against his chest. He was no longer in his apartment but standing at the threshold of a different realm—one where shadows danced and whispers echoed like distant memories.
Asher took a deep breath and pushed the door open from within, stepping out of the chamber. The moment he emerged, he was hit by a flood of sensations.
Bright light flooded his eyes, colors swirling as he squinted against the brightness. A rush of murmurs and distant footsteps enveloped him, creating a lively atmosphere. The cool marble floor underfoot contrasted with the warmth of the air, grounding him amidst the disorientation. A metallic tang lingered on his tongue, mingling with the fragrant incense that filled the air. The rich aroma of incense combined with the scent of polished wood, creating a comforting atmosphere.
Overwhelmed by this sensory influx, Asher reached for the doorframe, the solid wood offering a momentary refuge. He spotted Deacon Collin, the chagrin on his face replaced by respect and seriousness. Asher regained his composure and performed a half bow. "Your grace, this undeserving servant wishes for you to bestow the Mother's grace upon him."
"Very well," Collin replied, gesturing for Asher to follow. "Your journey has just begun. The Mother watches over those who dare to tread the path of understanding. Let us discuss your experiences."
Asher followed Collin into a small prayer room, its spartan nature evident with only a small desk and two chairs. Sunlight filtered through small holes in the black-stained windows, casting beautiful rays into the dim interior. Collin motioned toward the chair before taking his place behind the desk.
"Asher, there have been two reports of excessive force on your account. What say you?"
"Your grace, I have brought shame upon the Church. Though it was momentary, I confess a lapse in judgment. However, as per the dossier, I have not displayed any symptoms of madness."
"Indeed, this is true. However, that doesn't mean we condone acts of evil. Know that if not for Dunn's words of approval, you would be punished for your actions. Next time, you will not be so lucky; this I promise you. The Mother may forgive, but I am not so compassionate."
Collin glanced at him, allowing Asher to bear the full brunt of his presence for a moment. Asher struggled to keep himself upright, feeling as if the air had ignited within his lungs.
"Your grace, I wouldn't dare. If it happens again, I will seek forgiveness from the Great Mother. You have my word, as an emissary and a man."
Collin opened a small chest on the desk and took out its contents. Asher recognized them easily: a cauldron, pestle, and mortar.
"You may use this room for your descent, Asher. I'll send Dunn. May the Goddess watch over you."
"May the Goddess watch over us all, Deacon. Thank you for your leniency."