Otherworldly - A Shadowed Awakening

Gods of Many Things

Peak of Autumn, Week 3, Day 8

[Congratulations! Stage 8 of memory integration complete! All memories from Age 0 successfully imported!]

[System Notice: All stages of memory integration complete. Welcome to Gargantua!]

[System Notice: It is recommended the New User selects the Sun Gods’ Boon and a First Tier Class. Would you like to perform the selection of your Boon?]

Half a season, nearly three months. I let my defeat wash through me as I stared at the ceiling.

“Fine. Yes.” It has been long enough. Let’s at least select the Boon.

[Congratulations on your Awakening! As a celebration of your Awakening, please pick the God whose Boon you wish to select:]

[Scylla]

[Morloch]

[Druigr]

[Qwail]

Scylla, Goddess of Prophecy and Gambling.

Morloch, God of Sacrifice and Improvement.

Druigr, God of the Second Sun.

Qwail, Goddess of Livestock and Familiars.

My memory filled in the gaps and I felt the pointlessness overcome me once again.

Of course, ever more Gods meddling. At least this is out of some sense of benevolence.

I thought of what the tutor had said, memories coming easier than everr.

“The Gods, in their unending wisdom, knew Mortals would struggle. They knew a single solar year could make or break a generation. Thus,” she had paused, letting the tension build, “They decreed that for every Solar Year they would elect a Patron. Hence why, upon Awakening at eight lunar years, there are four minor boons to choose from —one for each year the child has lived through. They range from a single attribute point to a lesser cantrip. The Dawns, when there is such an option, choose a deity tied directly to one of the Suns. You will be expected to do the same.”

I felt my lip curl into a sadistic smile as I looked at the four options in front of me.

A Dawn would choose Druigr. A farmer or mage would choose Qwail. A Hero would choose Scylla.

“Morloch,” I hissed.

Morloch, of Sacrifice and Improvement, is a God of Darkness. A God in opposition to the Sun. He is known to rule a domain that resembles a labyrinthine cave system. A realm without light. He is his own Sun. He has to be — to provide for those who worship him. Much like the color of my System, with its verdant green light, this too will set me apart from the chains the other Gods have seen fit to shackle me with.

[Congratulations! You have selected Morloch’s Boon! You have gained the Boon [Morloch’s Blessing]! You have received +3 to Magic!]

As I closed my eyes, my senses were overrun with the feeling of insects crawling under my skin. Of my veins opening wider. Of a sense of wrongness. It took every ounce of self discipline not to drag my nails across my skin and try to dig out the sensation. I grit my teeth as power roiled through my blood. And then I let out a sharp breath as relief, sweet as honey, flooded my body. It was like a gentle rain during a hot summer day. Or the first snow on in late autumn. It was a soft breeze in spring. The crunch of leaves under foot. It was Magic. And as it settled, I was reminded of elsewhere. As if anything could stop me from thinking of the only place I have ever called home —in this life or the last.

Only instead of the bitterness and rage and depression that had consumed me these past months, I felt the peace of a pleasant memory. So rare in this world, I hung onto it with everything I had.

The memory was still clear, it had not been ripped from me by Brel.

The memory of the first time I wielded Magic in elsewhere. Under the Dome, where I was safe, I hadn’t needed it much —but I had wanted it. And it was beautiful. My very soul had resonated with Darkness. I had been so good at it. It responded to me as if it was an extension of my own soul.

I felt tears prick at my eyes.

Magic here was more convoluted. It required study, spirits, and contracts. It required Skills and Stats. It was why I could no longer call to that part of me that I had longed for. In elsewhere, magic was light and airy and filled small roles in the world. But it was beautiful. Here it is everywhere, used for everything. From the mana fueled lights to the runes engraved on the tub —but it is ugly. Even without mana sight I can feel the way it is shoved through circuitry not meant to caress the mana. Magic is meant to be delicate and skillful and intricate. It is also meant to be freely used —not limited by the fools who built this System.

The only saving grace is that the two Skills from Eunora’s memory seemed to take into account my own past as well as hers.

[Silent as a Shadow] and [Weave of Darkness]. They were an amalgamation of our souls —my souls. I bit my cheek. It gets harder every day to maintain the separation of Eunora and me. Every day I call her me more often. I think of this body as mine —it is growing difficult to deny such a thing.

Especially after witnessing eight years of her life. After feeling every emotion that wracked through her. After knowing her hurt and having to push it aside.

Peak of Autumn, Week 4, Day 3

It was mid morning when a knock resounded in my rooms. Harsh and too loud. There was too much force for it to be the usual maid —not to mention it was much too early.

I was in one of the dozens of white nightgowns I had, and my hair was braided in two thick braids. I had bathed the day before. All things considered, it was not the worst time for someone to decide to see me.

I slid off the window sill, placing the purple bunny with silver eyes that Eunora had painstakingly stitched together gently down on the bed.

It had become something of a reminder of Her. Of who I both was and was not. Of who I could no longer be.

Whoever was knocking did so again, only with more force. I debated, briefly, if I should open the door at all. But something new hit me –a small want from who I was. Who I had been, she wanted me to open it. So, it only took me another handful of seconds to unlock the door and pull it open. I didn’t flinch when I saw who it was, but it was a near thing. I maintained a blank expression.

“Well?” Said the boy —no, young man, at the door. Raphael Dawn. With his neatly groomed curls that reached just past his ears and his bright blue eyes and the same frown that I see in the mirror. Whatever he is doing here is bound to be annoying and probably hurtful.

“Well what?”

“Aren’t you going to step aside?” He gestured behind me, and I briefly glanced back before peering around him in turn. He was alone. Eve and Theo were nowhere in sight.

It must be Raphael’s mid season break. I regretted giving in to her desires already. I should have known no good would come of it.

“No.” I went to close the door, but something flashed across Raphael’s face and he snapped his hand out and caught it before the door moved more than an inch.

“That’s not how this works, Eunora.” His voice was rough, in the throes of deepening. I let out a huff and stepped back, letting go of the door.

What was the point of fighting him? I would just lose. I didn’t even have a Class. Though that was a fault all my own.

Rather than head to the sitting area, I went straight for the window sill. The window frame was still open from when I was letting the breeze bring in fresh air and the smell of dry leaves from the garden. I picked up the bunny and sat down where it had been.

Raphael had followed me in, but he looked as if he would rather have been anywhere else.

I stared at him, waiting for him to speak. Eunora would have begged him to talk, to say whatever he wanted, to spend time with her. But I had no such desire. In fact, I couldn’t remember a single time Raphael has searched her out like this. It was all chance meetings and forced proximity.

He seemed to be waiting for my previous desire for his affection to make itself known. That made my dislike for him grow.

Seconds ticked by as we sat in silence —well, Raphael was still standing as there were no seats by the window.

“Out with it,” he huffed.

I dug my nails into the bunny I was clutching, “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Your Class. What is it? I know you’ve just had your birthday.”

I reeled back. “Just had?”

“Yes, yes,” He waved off the question, “Last week or whenever. Is it a Common Class? At the very least tell me you qualify as a noble?”

Last week. My stomach churned. Last week. Eunora.

“Out.” I felt the wool compressing within my hands, the soft yarn roughly rubbing my palm. My voice was cold, chilled, furious.

“What?” Now Raphael was the one who reeled back, “No, I-“

“Get out,” Despite the knot in my stomach, the words were strong, solid. “Out and don’t return.”

My eyes met his once again and I stood, “Get out.”

“Who do you think you are?” He hissed, recovering and stepping towards me. I didn’t cower.

I have never been the type of person to be bullied silently. It was one thing to be neglected passively as a matter of course, but this was different. This was in my face. And it was making me rage.

“Young Lord Raphael Dawn. Get out of my room. You have no right to question me about my Class.”

And it was true. Had this been a normal family, perhaps it would be shared. But Class specifics for nobles are held by the head of house. And Raphael was not Countess Dawn. The Countess hadn’t even asked.

“What is the matter with you?” He took another step towards me, just a pace away, as he looked down his nose at me he continued to hiss, “You have never called me that-“

“What? Your title?” It’s true, in Eunora’s mind she had only ever thought of him as Raph. She so desperately wanted them all to love her, she wouldn’t call her siblings anything but their nicknames. A harsh laugh escaped me and I turned back to the window, “Do you even care?”

Whatever Raphael was going to say died in the silence between us. And it was only moments later that I heard him stomping out of the room. A resounding slam came from the door as he left.

I brought Eunora’s knit bunny to my face, an odd comfort radiating from the stuffed animal. A childish comfort. It helped to quell the disgust and anger inside of me just enough for me to feel the edges of numbness creeping back in. My eyes were drawn to the basket beneath the bed, whereas before it was a singular basket full of crochet and knit items of purples and pinks and the occasional blue, the basket has been joined with another –this one an effort of over a weeks worth of work to knit a basket large enough with [Weave of Darkness]. Each day I would weave until my mana ran out, infusing shadow into every stitch. Now, it is as if the black basket truly is the shadow of the other. Tucked neatly within, is a single set of black coasters, five fist sized shadowed chicks, an iridescent napkin, and another miniature bunny with a black body and shining eyes. Nearly a month's worth of work.

Knitting had been something to do. And along with it came the feeling of home —of shadow and darkness, the same as in elsewhere.

I took a deep breath.

If Raphael had come looking for me to measure my Class’ worth then soon enough someone sent by the Count and Countess will come.

“Three months,” I whispered, “Eunora, it took them three months. Can’t we let them go?”

The pain radiating from my chest was the only answer I received.

At least when I slept, I no longer had to see their faces in my dreams. It was bliss.

Three months since this body left the room. Three months since this child called on a maid for anything other than dinner. Three months since anyone tried to care for her.

Out of a desire for contact, or anger at being alone, or any other number of reasons, I rose and went to the door. To the side, by the handle, was a brass hook holding an ornate golden bell. The bell was small, no larger than a golf ball, but every inch was engraved with darkened runes. They swirled and intertwined, looping around each other just to merge into a single, intricate symbol. The lines formed two stylized suns rising over the horizon. The symbol of the Dawns.

I took the bell into my hand, holding it out away from me.

Eunora rang it often —if she wanted anything. She rang it for tea and snacks. She rang it for more yarn. She rang it for books. She rang it for meals. The point is, she rang it.

I bit my cheek, deciding if this was what’s next. If this was what I needed. Inside, I still wanted to be alone. To fester inside myself. To survive on the bare minimum.

I rang the bell and hung it back up, shifting nervously in front of the door. Waiting. The ringing had been quiet, so soft that without magic there was no way the sound could have reached anyone but myself. However, the runes began to give off a golden glow and I could feel the wave of mana that was sent out. I knew it was carrying itself elsewhere, allowing whoever was listening for it to know that I had rung the bell at all.

The waiting caused a knot to form in my stomach, and I couldn’t stop my hands from fidgeting with the purple bunny —which I decided must be named. Immediately. Perhaps that was another symptom of my agitation. I was suddenly enraged at Eunora as well —she had neglected a creation of her own as she had been neglected. Immediately, I cringed at the thought.

“That’s a bit of a stretch,” I sighed to myself, “I think I might be panicking, bunny. I’ve spent three months alone, what if that’s what I should keep doing?”

I pulled the stuffed animal close to me, and stood waiting for a few minutes —until a gentle knock echoed from the outside of the door.

I took a deep breath and counted down.

3…

2…

1…

“Good morning, my Lady,” came the soft voice of the maid as I pulled the door open and stared at her, “How can I be of service?”

My grip on the bunny loosened, just enough for my muscles to begin to relax. She was not the same maid from before —which, really, made quite a bit of sense when you took into account it was still mid-morning and that maid usually came at night. Still, she looked rather similar with her blue hair tucked back in the same style.

“I would like breakfast,” Unlike earlier, when I had venom lacing my words with Raphael, now my voice was small, timid even.

Whatever this anxiety was reminded me too much of Eunora’s disposition. I hated it. It felt as if it was not my own. Yet another chain to bear.

The maid tilted her head in acknowledgement and gave a shallow curtsy, “Yes, my Lady. I will return shortly.”

To the maid’s credit, she did well of hiding her surprise. Her smile didn’t drop –just stiffen– and her eyes only widened a hair. Even with all of that, she had still kept a gentle, kind tone. Something had stirred in me after she left. I remembered her from the dreams. I liked her. Maria, my mind reminded me, Her name is Maria. And she has always been kind.

As I sat curled up on the sofa, I looked back on the morning –on the past several months too.

While I wouldn’t say I was handling being reborn well, I would say that enough time had passed that I had at least accepted the reality of it. The reality that I was stuck here, with no way home, born to a family I’d rather disown, chained to two Gods for their entertainment. Another cold reality is I could just die. It probably wouldn’t send me home, but at least I wouldn’t be here. I immediately struck that thought –I wasn’t the type to succumb to that type of fantasy and I didn’t particularly relish the thought of being actually dead, despite feeling dead inside. That meant I had to live here. And living here meant using the System. And using the System meant choosing a Class.

[System Notice: It is recommended the New User selects a First Tier Class. Would you like to perform the selection of your Class? Once started this process cannot be interrupted.]

I stared at the verdant green prompt.

“Yes.”