Chapter 6: Shadow slave: In The Eye of The Beholder(chap6)-Sweet Whispers
In the endless plains of the farm, the sun had finally risen, casting its welcome to the land below, inviting the new light and evicting the shadows. The darkness of the field of crops coming to its end. A fitting time for Silas to once again venture in its depths.
His feet ached in protest, his skin screamed with agony, and his ear throbbed with relentless pain. These remnants of the conflict clung to him, weighing him down, trying to break the defiance of his mind.
Silas though ignored such things, for his entire life, he had felt pain. It was not something new, he was riddled with sickness, a veteran of the outskirts and a survivor of countless torturous experiments. Although it still hurt, he was used to it.
Silas had strived and survived all the worst.
And with the fire that burned within himself, he would make damn sure that it would continue.
The refreshing breeze that once accompanied him vanished as he stepped back into the endless wheat.
With each strand of the wheat that brushed his skin, Silas expected the usual assault on his mind—the endless desire and bliss from nature trying to pull him out of his own head. Yet, he felt none of it.
No clawing at his mind, no nagging of the plants, and not even the desire to glance at the wondrous seeds.
'Is that where Uncle went? 'Silas wondered. 'Did he kill the terror? I mean, I knew he was strong, but it's still a terror!'
'He's probably on his way back home. That damn cow must have snuck past him, Silas mused, before smirking. Maybe the big man will stop treating me like a child after showing my kill.'
'I'm not sure... no matter how much you show yourself, compared to someone like him, you'll always be a child, a voice answered, much to Silas's confusion.
Wait, that didn't sound like me... hell, I'm not crazy, right? I shouldn't be hearing voices...
Silas looked frantically at the wheat surrounding him. If anything other than me is in my own head, it must be the damn crops.
As he stared intently at the plants beside him, they answered.
'Well, you're not wrong. I am talking to you'. the voice responded, with a slight feminine hint in its ethereal whispers.
Silas's mind went blank before the realization finally struck him.
'The terror is talking to me', he thought, stunned. It wasn't just feeding nonsense into his ears; it was coherent, speaking to him as if it were truly conscious and not just some mindless abomination.
'You know I can hear you, right? It's rude to say such things. You're not entirely correct—yes, I'm a terror, and yes, I was a monster. But not anymore. It's been a while since I've thirsted for souls.'
Silas, hearing such absurdity, felt his sanity begin to fray.
No one is familiar with having someone—or something—in the sanctity of their own mind.
"What do you mean, you blasted terror?! Just get out of my head! You're not fooling me, okay? I'll come over and slay you, so just—GET OUT! GET OUT!"
Silas's outburst echoed into the silence, a deafening response to his inner turmoil.
In the brief moments of silence, the voice sighed.
"Look, I'm sorry if you're upset about me affecting your mind. I was just trying to make you happy, okay? I've read through your memories, and... you really deserve better. I can't do much besides that, and I wanted your last moments to be blissful, considering the waste your life has been."
"Oh, right, so brainwashing me is your way of helping? And since when did I give you permission to go through my memories? I did not consent to that!"
The voice fell silent.
"And by the way, I'm not about to let this be my last moment. I'll defeat this damn nightmare, and it won't end here. This is just the beginning! I'll use your corpse as a stepping stone for much greater things."
Yet this time, the voice answered sombrely.
This time, the voice answered sombrely.
"You won't, I'm afraid. You and the many others never really have. After all, this isn't the trial your modern-day people are used to—not since it appeared."
Silas fell silent. He had expected the voice to question him about what he was talking about. All nightmares were conjured by the Spell, all of its reflections created to give aspirants an experience. Its souls were supposed to be fake, unaware of their existence.
"How… how do you know? It doesn't even make sense. And isn't every nightmare tailored to the aspirant? What do you mean, the others?"
The voice took its time before answering.
"Well, normally, that's the case. But the nightmare meant for one person has been… tweaked by it. Can't you feel it? Can't you hear it? After all, it's blessed you, and it watches above. Don't you see it?"
Silas gazed up at the bright blue sky, but there was nothing—no being, no human, nothing. Just emptiness.
The voice seemed to expect his confusion, and when she noticed his silence, she explained.
"You probably don't see it. I only saw it after a couple of millennia, maybe even more. The concept of time hasn't made sense in a while."
She paused before continuing, "Since it has blessed you, like the many others, if you use your aspect to its utmost, you might be able to see it."
Silas thought back to his runes, the unusual attribute, [Touch of Divinity], coming to mind.
Silas reached further into his aspect, [Beholder of Strings], the rune shimmering as colours burst from his irises. His soul and will focused intensely, striving to observe what lay beyond.
He looked into the great blue sky, past the endless fields of wheat, and into its depths.
In its domain, golden strings raced across the skyline, shining with their utmost brilliance. More strings began to weave a mirage in the distance.
The strings interwove endlessly, their form gradually manifesting and revealing itself.
A pure golden eye emerged from the emptiness of the sky, its sections filled with the strings weaving in and out, creating intricate patterns of brilliance. Each blank space between the threads felt distant, as if gazing at a star far away.
The weave of gold expanded across the horizon, the image seeming both imaginary and real, obscuring the clouds and dwarfing the sun until all that could be seen was the vast eye.
Its pupil stared directly down at the earth below, and the iris, in all its glory, shifted ever so slightly, locking its gaze on Silas, who dared to witness it.
Silas gulped under the weight of being observed by such a presence. The eye seemed to blacken parts of the once-blue sky, evoking descriptions like godly, divine, or supreme—something beyond ordinary comprehension.
His eyes, overwhelmed and burning, finally closed, seeking relief.
Despite the pain, he remained unresponsive, unable to fully grasp the magnitude of what he had seen.
The voice spoke once again.
"It is truly divine. After all, how could it mess with the very weave of fate? While its magnificence is godly, it doesn't compare to the gods of old or the defiance of demons. It is something smaller, yet always present—an observer, not to be observed."
"I believe it's named the Beholder. That's what I've gathered after all this time."
Silas in the darkness of his closed eyes, attempted to answer in his respite.
'Why are you telling me this? what is that doing here, why is this nightmare different, it's not making sense okay, please, just tell me.' Silas desperately answered the voice, it was all so confusing to the little street rat.
She answered yet again, some kindness showing in its whisper, silently in his ears.
'I will okay, you deserve it the furthest out of the aspirants, though it's not really nice of me to speak into your head, come to the spires and we'll tell you, you were looking for your body's uncle, right? he's right beside me, as well as our other friend'.
He looked once again beyond the corn and to the sky, the once faint image of the Beholder no longer there, as if it were nothing but his imagination.
And instead, the spires of the castle he once saw at the start, the brilliant structures seeming no more mundane than the concrete of the outskirts now...
'So come on and get going, I'll explain everything okay promise' she spoke, the voice unreasonably bright for a terror, yet making sense of things seemed to escape him recently'
Silas still looked at the crops that dwarfed him, they once seemed so tall yet now they seem so small.
"Okay ill come" he mumbled, confusion, hope and curiosity burning intensely within him.
once again, he continued through the wheat.