8 – Respite amidst the Gloom

The group converged at the forefront of the imposing building, their horses prepared for the arduous journey ahead. Imbra emerged from the shadows of the structure, a palpable sense of solemnity emanating from him, mirrored in his sombre expression.

"Where's the kid?" Declan pondered.

"He will arrive shortly. It seems that he will not be leaving us anytime soon."

"Oh? Why do you think so?" Declan asked.

Imbra's gaze swept over the group before he answered. "He still possesses vitality, a vibrancy that sets him apart. He won't relinquish his ambitions so easily."

Gravesyn, her eyes closed, caressed her horse in surprise, acknowledging the resilience displayed by the young one's desire to remain. "Did you provide him with the potions?" she inquired, turning her head slightly towards Imbra, while Lunar maintained a smile, his gaze lowered.

"I did. He should be able to accompany us without any hindrances now. How long will our journey to Blightmoor take, Zynphina?"

Zynphina, her head cloaked by the dark robe, brushed aside her long white hair, her eyes scanning the sky. "Within a day. Perhaps two if we chance upon enough Incarnations, although I doubt we will."

Gratien then suddenly emerged from the building, his demeanor frigid and sedated, he wore a bandage around his wounded arm, covering the dried-up cut marks. His hair flowed in the wind as he stepped into view. Declan turned to him, breaking the silence,

"There he is. Did the potions help you out well?"

"...yes."

"What's wrong? Tired of the journey already?"

"....."

"Might be a side effect of the potions. How many did you drink?"

"There is nothing wrong with me."

"If you say so. We were about to take off."

"Indeed," Lunar added. "You will be riding alongside me. Don't worry, my horse is more welcoming than the others, hehe."

"That's fine."

Gratien then stepped forward, toward Lunar, who stood furthest away from the others. He could feel Gravesyn's gaze following his trail as he walked past her. While the same could be said for Imbra, he, on the other hand, gave Gratien a quick glance before shifting his pupils to the empty air. Declan watched Gratien from behind, bearing witness to his fragile state. Gratien's attire was tarnished, besmirched, and overall dulled. Hearing Imbra's words of him being the only one that bears vibrance seemed hard to believe for him. A figure, like Gratien, someone who was not supposed to be journeying alongside his sworn enemies, yet he walked in front of him, accompanying Lunar on his horse.

He saw his tainted arms, dirt stains covering most of his skin, sided with his bandage, its end slightly loosened. If anything, Gratien seemed the most devoid of life out of all of them. It was a constant contradiction Declan could not help but ponder about.

As Lunar and Gratien climbed on his horse, the others followed suit. Zynphina and Imbra then took the lead in front, with the others following them behind.

"Onto Blightmoor we go," Zynphina declared, as they set forth on their treacherous journey.

At the moment of their departure, Luminia observed the scene from a room above, her keen eyes capturing the sight. A smile adorned her face as she gently pressed her hand against her cheek, her narrowed eyes brimming with satisfaction. With her ethereal voice, she spoke a cryptic message:

"Do not lose your vibrance, young boy. For it has the power to awaken their dormant souls..."

The journey unfolded with an air of anticlimax as they ventured through a city nestled in the South-Southwestern reaches of the land. Like the previous cities they encountered, this one too was plagued by a pervasive absence of vibrance. Melancholy clung to the atmosphere, enveloping the group in a profound sense of desolation. The only sounds that broke the silence were the rhythmic clatter of hooves and the murmurs of the Desolate Souls that haunted their path.

These tormented beings spanned the entire spectrum of age, their vacant eyes reflecting the loss of purpose that had befallen them. Children, adults, and elders alike, they all shared the same dismal fate. Some stumbled towards the horses, uttering incoherent mutterings as they fell in front of the creatures, while others desperately clung onto the steeds.

"Save us… save us…"

"Purpose…"

"Are you here to save ughhh…" a young woman's plea was cut short, as she tried to cling onto Imbra's horse, but fell right in front of it, resulting in her fragile body being crushed by the horse's weight, her abdomen trampled with no remorse. Imbra's face remained solemn and emotionless, as Zynphina looked at the Desolate Souls wandering with aimless intent, her face also devoid of emotion, as if attempting to pity them, yet failing to see through their desolate existence.

"Help us, help us!"

"I don't want to die alone…"

"You, young man," an emaciated adult reached out his gaunt hand to Gratien, his sunken cheeks accentuating his profound emptiness, as if each word he spoke was his last. "You can save us, can't you? Please... I can't bear... I can't bear this void! I'm fading away... please, young man... take me with you..."

Gratien could only stare at him, his face still sedated. It seemed as if he had little to no care about anything. Anything could happen to him, and he would simply not care anymore. His mind was devoid of emotion, he glanced at Imbra for a moment, and held his gaze back downward, ignoring the pleas of the Desolate Soul walking next to him.

"Pitiful, wouldn't you agree, Gratien?" Lunar's voice cut through the grim atmosphere.

"Hm?"

"As much as I would prefer to aid them, the moment they learn that they are kept in the hands of the Fallen, I am certain that they would throw away a new purpose that would be handed to them. These souls seek a light that does not exist in this world, the only choice they must take is the only presence that lives true to itself; the darkness. However, they are afraid, or so I would believe. What do you think, Gratien?"

"I don't know…"

"You do not seem very sharp-minded right now, do you? Drank a little too much?"

"I think so."

"Do you miss her? The caretaker of the library?"

"....."

"You should stay fortuitous, she is most likely praying for your well being."

"....."

Lunar's voice was buried under the screams of another Desolate Soul, who attempted climbing on Declan's horse, only for Declan to slice their chest with his sword in resentment. His blade now tainted with blood, he slashed it in the air to cleanse it of the tainted touch.

"Don't you dare touch me!"

"Ahhhh… please… end my life…"

"Tsk"

Gratien could only stare at the scene, once again. He then looked at his bandaged hand, reminiscing his battle with Gravesyn, who again, remained still for the remainder of the journey. She did not glance at Gratien, but rather looked forward, as if she lost care of Graten, despite riding next to him. However, there seemed to be a hint of sadness in her eyes as she heard the screams of the elderly man who attempted to climb on Declan's horse. The sound of his blade penetrating the man's flesh, as well as his cries of despair, seemed to have touched a nerve in her. The moonlight kept shining dimly upon the area, lighting up her face. 

Their treacherous journey pressed on, and after a considerable passage of time, the group found themselves traversing a vast, expansive field. A solitary path stretched ahead, leading them toward the distant city of Blightmoor, several miles away. The once-obscured sky now revealed itself, free from the grasp of clouds, offering an unobstructed view of the grey-coated heavens. Moonlight cascaded upon the landscape, illuminating the left side of the path, bathing the entire area in a soft glow. The field itself exuded a stillness that bordered on surreal, with broken hedges and scattered stone debris punctuating the grass. In this desolate world, the atmosphere carried a rare serenity, a moment of respite amidst the bleakness.

Gratien glanced at the faraway field, the air succumbed to the twilight. The sky above felt pristine, as if this specific area was embraced by a magical haunting beauty. Even Gravesyn acknowledged the ambience, looking over the vast expanse, turning her pupils toward Gratien, who still silently lifted his head in awe. Her face was half-lit by the moonlight, her expression shifting slightly. It was as if the tranquil surroundings brought a momentary peace to her soul, though her countenance remained stoic. Inwardly, she pondered,

(Vibrance, what kind of vibrance does this… tarnished young boy even have.)

At the front of the march, Zynphina rode beside Imbra, also acknowledging the view,

"Is it not beautiful, Imbra?"

"....."

"It is moments such as these that make me appreciate the beauty in this darkness."

"It is but a facade, there is nothing beautiful about this world."

"Perhaps, a deceitful figure, blessed with a face like no other. I would most likely be one of its victims, enamoured by its beauty… it feels like some sort of escape, a narrow fleeting moment."

"I wish I had your perceptions of reality, Zynphina."

"Is that so? Even amidst your despair, have you ever bore witness to this deceitful figure?"

"....."

"Perhaps you need something that is able to deceive like no other, a light that shines brighter than all other lights."

"There is no light that will pierce through my darkness, Zynphina."

"Hehe… If you were a sky, I would imagine you exactly like this; a clear, pristine twilight sky, devoid of everything, yet shining on the fields. A sky that is devoid of everything, but at the same time, beholding a beauty that has never been witnessed before."

"...we should be nearing Blightmoor soon."

"Correct, we have been quite lucky to not have met any Incarnations up until now. Do you wager it will be as challenging as you forebode now?"

"I am not sure…"