Chapter 36

We Remember

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah, hah, hah, hah," Sylas was jolted awake, fighting for breath. It felt like he had nearly drowned; like a man would feel gasping for breath after swallowing mouthfuls of seawater. But he wasn't drowning, at least not with water.

He was shivering and was covered in sweat from head to toe. It was cold. Terribly cold. The kind of cold that pierced through any and all layers of clothing and latched itself onto the skin, burning. Looking around, he saw the thick layer of trees all over, and the fog dancing in-between them. Leaning against some of the trunks were the other three—all with their eyes closed, but also with quickened breathing, as though they were living through a nightmare.

Sylas felt weak in his knees, unable to even sit up. All he could do was continue lying down and try and push the memories back. But they wouldn't listen, burning through easily. He remembered. Remembered the figure in the sky, the voice that spoke into his mind. Remembered the quest and utter lack of information he'd gotten through it. Remembered the bone-chilling terror that eclipsed even dying thousand times over.

He never wanted to see that thing again. Never wanted to face it or anything like it for as long as he lived. Never wanted to unveil the secrets behind the quest or who the ‘Condemned’ were or what they wanted. He didn’t care. He didn’t dare care. His initial curiosity was the cause of his current suffering. If he’d only obeyed the natural order of things and proceeded inland, he would have never been exposed to reality.

New save point ‘Ignorant Awakening’ has been discovered.

Would you like to overwrite your previous save?

YES / NO

Sylas stared at the window, almost instinctively pressing yes but holding back in the end. It wasn’t up to him, he mused. He didn’t get to make that call this time around. If the three lying unconscious wanted to forget… he would press no and never speak of it again. To him, it didn’t matter—yes or no, the choice was the same. He would remember. Remember every excruciating detail, every ounce of horror. It was permanently etched into his memory and would stay there until he truly died. But the other three… they could forget. If they wanted to forget, he’d help them.

A few minutes later, he managed to recover some of his strength, barely sitting up. He still fought with his mind, trying to push back the memories and ignore them. But they flooded him, over and over again. He couldn't erase the image of a thing being lowered via harnesses made out of chains, lowered from some abysmal dimension into their own. He couldn’t forget the pair of dead, hollow eyes locking onto his, and he couldn’t forget the scraping, soul-freezing voice that spoke into his head.

The first to wake up after him was Ryne. The young girl opened her eyes shakingly, her lips parting as though wanting to scream, but no voice came out. Her teary eyes sought anything remotely warm until they landed on Sylas, who smiled gently at her.

“We’re safe,” he said, swallowing back his own pain and gently ruffling her hair. “It’s all going to be okay.”

“T-t-t—”

“Don’t speak,” he interrupted. “Don’t even think. Enjoy the nothingness. Conserve your energy.”

Whether she listened to his advice or not, Sylas didn’t need ask—he could see in her eyes, the horror repeating on a loop. He suspected that others didn’t experience the chained figure, at least not to the full extent which was, in such a tragedy, a silver lining.

Soon after, both Valen and Tenner woke up, similarly shaking, terrified to their cores. Just like with Ryne, he reassured them and warned them not to speak or think and to try and recover as much as possible.

An hour in, he was strong enough to reach for the gourd of water, finally alleviating his parched throat. After a few gulps, he helped the other three as well, some relief immediately evident in their gazes.

Three hours after they woke up, Sylas had managed to light a campfire, and all four sat around it in silence. Everyone’s thoughts were like a continuous, looping movie reel of those few moments of unmatchable dread they experienced. That… was not meant for a man, they ascertained. That was meant for heroes and heroic figures destined to fight evil. Not an ordinary swordsman, a discarded Prince, and a scarred, teenage girl Exorcist.

“I am offering you a one-time choice,” Sylas spoke out suddenly, breaking the silence and glancing at the still-floating window nearby. “A one-time opportunity… to forget.”

“To… forget?” Valen mumbled, clearly tempted by the idea.

“Yes, forget,” Sylas nodded. “Forget the sky, the pain, the dead, even the journey into the forest itself. Forget all the days that led to this. You will wake up back home, unaware of everything.”

“… is… are you really saying it is possible?!” Tenner asked excitedly.

“Yes,” Sylas nodded. “You will forget.”

“No,” Ryne’s voice and the choice of words startled the two men. The young girl, just like them, was shaking as though cut by winter. She was no better. And yet… why did she say no? “How… how can we forget? We have to warn the world! We have to warn them that the dead are coming!”

"That's not the reason not to forget," Sylas said. "I will warn the world in your stead. Choose to remember only because of the selfish desire to keep what you felt close to your heart. That terror… it froze you, but it also opened the gates. Not just for you, but for me as well. The next time a man points a blade at us… why would we cower? We watched the death itself, keenly observed it and experienced it… and we lived. Compared to that, what's a man with a blade? What's even an army of such men?

“However, just as it can embolden us, it can terrorize us forever. You might end up waking every night, experiencing terrors that bring you back to today. For as long as you live, you may not have a decent night’s rest. In fact, it might get so awful that it drives you to raise your hand against yourself.”

“Wait… you… you wouldn’t forget?” Valen asked suddenly.

“A God’s missionary cannot forget,” Sylas smiled at him. “Especially something like that.”

“… then… then I won’t either.”

“Valen—”

“No,” the pale-faced Prince replied sternly, gnashing his teeth as though to harden his wavy resolve. “You are right. I have never experienced that much pain, agony, and terror in my life. And yes, I might wake up every night screaming… but I have faith in myself. Faith that I will grow stronger and make that terror my armor. By God’s design, I am set to take the Throne—but am I worthy of it? No. It doesn’t matter if I dethrone my Father if my people won’t support me. I need to become a man… a man whom others can see as a King. I vote… I vote we remember.”

"We remember," Tenner said. "If young pups such as yourselves are keen on remembering… how can I forget? I may be old, but in my bones, there is still some resolve to defy evil. And that was evil. Evil beyond reason.”

“We’ll remember,” Ryne repeated again. “Because… because… wouldn’t it be sad if we forgot?” she glanced stealthily at Sylas. “Wouldn’t… you be lonely?”

“… geez, you three are nuts,” Sylas sighed, leaning back. He was… surprised. Taken aback. Perhaps for the first time since his coming here, he was surprised by someone’s decision. He was almost absolutely certain they would choose to forget—and he even wanted them to forget. That kind of terror… if he could forget, he would. For them to so readily decline the salvation, and entirely because of him… “I’ve a feeling you’ll be cursing me out soon enough once the night terrors strike. ‘Why did I follow that stupid Prophet? Aagh, he should eat some shit!’”

“Pfft, ha ha…”

“Perhaps,” Valen chuckled. “But at least… we’ll be in it together.”

“The truth is, we have little to do with that army, at least for now,” Sylas said, glancing at the three. “God already told me I’d gone astray in my mission. We are still far too weak to hold that reality close to us. As such, we will remember it… but we will not raise armies against it, not yet anyway. For now, our duties lie in manning the castle’s walls and defending the scattered groups of invaders. We will live through the winter and into the spring. And, naturally, not a word of what we had seen to anyone else. That includes your Master, Ryne. At least for now.”

"…" a good deal of tension seemed to evaporate at that moment—knowledge that they needn't actually face and fight that many dead was like rain after years of drought.

“So, we remember?”

“We remember.”

“Aye, we remember.”

"Yes, remember." The three replied after taking deep breaths, nodding. They had clearly steeled their resolves well beyond the human's normal capacity. But, they had to, considering what they had seen.

Sylas looked at the window floating next to him, sighed, and chose ‘Yes’. A new one popped in its place right after, informing him that a new save point, ‘Ignorant Awakening’, had been initialized. It was over. The choice was made. One they would remember forever.

“We’ll need to hurry with the fixing of that hole,” Valen suddenly commented. “I’ll assign you twenty more men. Rush them.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Tenner replied. “I will also restart harsher training regimes, taking batches of twenty and polishing them.”

“Good. Do we have any really good archers?”

“Aye, a few.”

“Have them train anyone remotely good with a bow. We’ll also open the forge again and dump most of the reserve materials into producing more weapons and armor. Ryne, what would you need to start producing defensive talismans? Any kind would be beneficial.”

“Not much,” Ryne replied readily. “Clean, husk-woven pieces of parchment, and a mixture of black ink and tyrent seed.”

"Hm, I'll send the messenger immediately to quadruple the supply of those for the next shipment. We'll cut it close but should make it in time. Also…"

It was a good distraction, Sylas mused, focusing on defending the castle over defeating the army of the dead. He leaned back, relaxing, as the plans had little to do with him. He wasn't a strategist, and he wasn't someone who could optimize the logistics of the castle defense. He'd just remain there, by their side, moral support, a cheerleader, tossing a quip or two to rekindle their spirits every once in a while. Hopefully, the winter will pass with no big trouble……ah, shit, I just jinxed myself, didn’t I? Fuck.