Dark Origins

"How do we resist them?" I asked, my fear evident in my trembling voice.

"Through sheer will," Rose said, her tone almost a growl. "Your mental strength, your ability to withstand the madness—it grows with each encounter. Eldritch, as we call those with extraordinary abilities, are classified by their mastery over the cards and the sanity they can retain."

Her gaze was grim as she continued. "Condensing three cards makes you an Awakened Eldritch—a novice who has tasted true power. Five cards elevate you to an Ascended Eldritch, with abilities that can warp reality itself. Seven cards mark you as a Saint—a being of immense power and terrifying wisdom."

The enormity of the journey ahead hit me like a physical blow. "What happens if we fail?" I asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Rose's eyes darkened, and the shadows around her seemed to deepen. "Failure means succumbing to the voices, becoming a vessel for their madness. Some lose themselves entirely, their minds shattered, acting as mindless beasts. But those who endure, who fight back against the whispers, they ascend beyond the cards' influence."

I shuddered, the weight of the perilous path ahead settling heavily on my shoulders. Rose's expression softened slightly, but the darkness in her eyes remained. "Remember, Jesper," she said softly, "the cards are not mere instruments of power. They are mirrors to the soul, reflecting the darkest corners of those who wield them. Embrace their mysteries, but never lose sight of your sanity. It is your greatest weapon against the horrors they hold."

As I left the study, the flickering candles cast grotesque shadows that seemed to writhe with a life of their own. I knew now that the path to mastery wasn't just a journey of acquiring power; it was a descent into the depths of my own mind. The real battle against the darkness would be fought within, and the shadows seemed to whisper of the trials to come.

The candles flickered, casting long, dancing shadows across the walls of the dimly lit study. My mind buzzed with the weight of Miss Rose's revelations about the churches, gods, and factions that governed the Eldritch. As I sat there, I felt a shift in the room's atmosphere, as if the shadows themselves were leaning in to listen.

Rosaline leaned forward, her eyes glinting with an unsettling intensity. "There is more to the world of the extraordinary than just the tarot cards," she said, her voice low and measured. "Beyond the cards, there are other objects of power—relics known as 'Veilshards.' These artifacts can grant abilities similar to the cards, though not quite as potent."

My curiosity was piqued. "Veilshards?" I repeated, the word feeling almost like an incantation.

Rose nodded. "Yes, Veilshards. These objects are remnants of powerful beings and ancient events, imbued with energies that bestow extraordinary abilities upon those who wield them. However, their power is often more unpredictable and less refined than that of the cards and comes with equally severe effects."

My mind whirled with a torrent of questions. "Where do the cards and these Veilshards come from? What is their origin?" I asked, my voice tinged with both curiosity and trepidation.

Rose's expression darkened, and she shook her head slowly, a veil of sorrow and resignation settling over her features. "No one knows for certain, Jesper. The origins of the cards are lost to the mists of time, obscured by layers of myth and forgotten lore. It is said that the gods themselves might hold the answers, but they have chosen to keep such knowledge from mortals."

The room fell into a suffocating silence, and I felt a shiver trace my spine as I waited for her to continue. The dim light from the flickering candle cast long, quivering shadows that seemed to encroach upon us, heightening the sense of dread.

Rose leaned closer, her voice dropping to a near whisper, laden with a gravity that made her words even more chilling. "But I can tell you this: the Veilshards... When an Eldritch assimilates with a card, their very essence starts to warp, their physical form mirroring the nature of the card they embrace. These transformations are not ephemeral; they linger even after the Eldritch's death."

My eyes widened, and I shivered involuntarily, the gravity of her revelation sinking in. "You mean... these physical transformations persist even after death?"

Rose's eyes locked onto mine, unwavering and unblinking. "Yes. The remains of these transformed Eldritch become the raw material for the Veilshards. The very essence of their power—imbued in their bones, their blood, their flesh—survives beyond their demise. This residual energy is what imbues the Veilshards with their formidable, yet darkly tainted, power."

A cold dread settled over me, the weight of her words pressing down like a physical force. I imagined the grotesque, twisted forms of fallen Eldritch, their bodies forever marked by the power they wielded. The notion of their remains being fashioned into artifacts of such immense power sent a shiver through my entire being. The room seemed to grow colder, the shadows flickering and stretching grotesquely across the walls, distorting my sense of reality.

Rose continued, her voice now carrying a note of grim forewarning. "Remember, Jesper, the path of an Eldritch is fraught with both immense power and peril. The cards, the Veilshards—they are tools that can elevate you to heights unimaginable or lead to your utter destruction. Some may hunt you not for the sake of victory but to fashion a Veilshard from you, turning your very essence into a weapon for their own gain."

I swallowed hard, the gravity of her words anchoring me to the spot. The allure of power was undeniable, but the shadows that lurked alongside it were formidable and relentless. I could almost see the ghostly echoes of the past, their whispers clawing at the edges of my sanity, a constant reminder of the madness that awaited those who delved too deep.

"The choice to become Eldritch is yours," Rose said, her voice slicing through the oppressive silence like a cold blade. "But never forget the cost. The echoes of the past are always present, whispering their madness and seeking to reclaim what was once theirs. You must tread carefully, Jesper."

I nodded slowly, the enormity of her warning settling heavily on my shoulders. The journey ahead was fraught with dangers that extended far beyond the physical realm, reaching into the very depths of the soul. The tantalizing promise of power was shadowed by the dark, relentless forces that accompanied it. As I left the study, the darkness seemed to envelop me, an ever-present reminder of the price I might pay for the extraordinary. The flickering candlelight seemed to wane, casting longer shadows that followed me, whispering of the dangers and sacrifices that lay ahead.