Raiden’s consciousness gradually surfaced, pulling him from the depths of a dreamless slumber. His eyelids fluttered open, revealing the familiar opulence of the chamber he had briefly glimpsed when he first ascended the mage’s tower. The realization that he was back in the same room again dawned on him slowly, a faint sense of déjà vu mingling with his groggy awareness.
As he tried to sit up, a dull ache in his arm reminded him of the recent battle. He looked down to see the wound dressed meticulously, the bandages clean and professionally applied. The pain was there, a persistent throb, but it was much weaker than before, a sign that he had been healed to some extent.
The room was quiet, the only sound being the soft crackling of a fire in the hearth, casting a warm glow across the lavish furnishings. Sunlight filtered through the windows, casting long, lazy beams across the stone floor, suggesting it was morning.
He took a moment to gather his thoughts, memories of the night’s events slowly piecing themselves together in his mind. The fierce battle on the bridge, the demonic creature, his near-fatal wound, and the mage’s timely intervention – it all came back in flashes.
Testing his strength, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He felt weak, but the overwhelming exhaustion had subsided. His gaze wandered around the room, taking in the intricate furnishings, the shelves lined with ancient tomes, and the various artifacts that spoke of the mage’s extensive travels and deep knowledge.
There was no sign of the mage in the room. Perhaps he was elsewhere in the tower, or maybe he had left Raiden to rest. A sense of curiosity mingled with gratitude filled Raiden. He wanted to thank the mage for saving his life and also to understand more about this mysterious figure who had become his unlikely ally.
With a deep breath, he stood up, steadying himself against the momentary dizziness. He knew he needed to recover fully, but the warrior in him was restless, eager to get back on his feet and face whatever challenges lay ahead. For now, though, he needed to focus on regaining his strength and understanding the situation he was now a part of in this enigmatic mage’s tower.
Regaining some of his strength, Raiden cautiously moved around the room, acutely aware of his still-healing wound. The room presented an intriguing mix of comfort and mystique, combining elements of a cozy living space with hints of arcane enigma.
His attention was drawn to a large, ornate desk covered with scrolls and various instruments that hinted at the mage’s scholarly pursuits. Among them were astrolabes, strange crystals emitting a faint glow, and parchments filled with arcane symbols. Raiden’s fingers brushed over these items with a sense of respect for the knowledge they represented.
On a side table, Raiden discovered a set of tomes distinctly different from the others. Bound in dark, almost ominous leather, these books exuded a peculiar aura. As he cautiously opened one, its slightly ajar cover revealed pages adorned with illustrations depicting rituals and creatures that seemed torn from the darkest of nightmares. The text was indecipherable, yet the imagery spoke volumes, hinting at subjects far more sinister and complex than typical magical lore.
He moved towards the shelves lining one wall, filled with books and artifacts. The titles of the books were in languages he didn’t recognize, their scripts elegant and mysterious. The artifacts ranged from simple amulets to intricate mechanical devices whose purpose was beyond his understanding. Each item seemed to hold a story, a piece of knowledge from a distant time or land.
Beside the window, a majestic telescope stood, its lens aimed skyward like a silent sentinel of the cosmos. Raiden, drawn by its allure, peered through it, momentarily captivated by the way it transformed distant stars from mere specks of light into brilliantly clear celestial bodies. The experience was like touching the heavens, bringing the vastness of the universe into an intimate perspective.
Turning away from the cosmic spectacle, Raiden’s attention was caught by an array of maps sprawled across a nearby table. These maps were intricately detailed, depicting uncharted territories and lands that were whispers and legends to him. Each was annotated with the mage’s handwriting, a cryptic script that seemed to weave stories and secrets into the very geography they displayed.
Just as Raiden’s curiosity led him to a peculiar, orb-like object on a pedestal, the door to the chamber swung open. In walked the mage, his expression a mix of surprise and mild annoyance as he caught Raiden red-handed, fiddling with his possessions.
Caught off guard, Raiden had been tentatively reaching out to touch the orb, which pulsed with an inner light. At mage’s entrance, his hand jerked back, knocking over a small stack of parchment beside the orb. The papers fluttered to the ground in a disorganized heap.
The mage raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth curling into a sardonic smile. “Well, I see you’ve taken the liberty of acquainting yourself with my personal collection,” he observed with a dry, yet unmistakably amused tone.
Raiden felt a flush of embarrassment mixed with a defensive urge. He stumbled over his words, trying to muster an apology. “I… I was merely curious, no harm intended,” he explained, his hands awkwardly shuffling the papers he had inadvertently scattered in his exploration.
Stepping further into the room, the mage’s eyes briefly surveyed the gentle chaos Raiden had wrought. “While curiosity is admirable, I do prefer guests to exercise caution with objects they don’t fully understand,” he advised, a twinkle in his eye betraying a mild amusement rather than any serious displeasure.
Raiden stood up, papers cautiously gathered in his hands, as the mage approached a particular pedestal to inspect an orb placed upon it. “This, for example, is far from a mere trinket. It’s
a vault of knowledge, safeguarding information of a particularly sensitive nature,” the mage explained, his voice dipping into a more solemn register.
Nodding in understanding, Raiden extended the papers back to the mage, his expression a blend of respect and sheepish contrition. “I apologize for the intrusion. It won’t happen again,” he assured, feeling somewhat like a mischievous child who had been gently reprimanded.
The mage accepted the papers, his expression softening. “Curiosity is a valuable trait, but in the world of magic, it can also be dangerous,” he said, a note of caution in his voice. “Perhaps, in time, I can show you more about what these artifacts truly are. For now, let’s focus on your recovery and the situation at hand.”
Raiden’s expression shifted to one of surprise at mage’s suggestion. “You plan for us to… continue together?” He asked, a hint of incredulity in his voice. The idea of forming a more extended alliance with the mage hadn’t crossed his mind, considering their chance encounter and the tumultuous events that had followed.
The mage scoffed lightly, a wry smile on his face as he rearranged the papers Raiden had handed back to him. “Don’t read too much into it,” he said nonchalantly, turning to place the papers back on the desk. “I simply recognize potential when I see it. And you, despite your knack for causing
a bit of chaos,” he gestured vaguely at the orb and the papers, “have potential.”
Processing the mage’s words, Raiden realized that his interest might be more about his own peculiar situation than about a genuine desire for companionship. “You’re curious about my affliction, aren’t you?” He asked, a hint of resignation in his voice.
“Your ‘affliction,’ as you call it, is intriguing,” the mage admitted, the scientist in him evident. “It’s not every day that one encounters a curse – or whatever it may be – of such a peculiar nature. Understanding it could be… enlightening.”
Exhaling deeply, Raiden felt the burden of his past experiences weigh heavily on his shoulders. “It’s more than just a curse,” he started, “Ever since it began, my life has been a series of unexplainable events and inexplicable survivals. I’ve encountered things, been through situations that should’ve been the end of me, yet here I am.”
The mage listened intently, his curiosity piqued. “Survivals, you say? That’s not typical of a curse. Curses are usually harmful, not protective or… beneficial.”
“It doesn’t feel beneficial,” Raiden countered. “It’s like being trapped in a cycle where danger is always a step behind, and each escape only leads to another peril. I don’t understand it, and
I don’t control it. It just… happens.”
The mage nodded thoughtfully. “Anomalies like this are rare and often hold keys to deeper understandings of magic and its nuances. I’m interested in finding out more, not just for the sake of knowledge, but perhaps to help you gain some control or insight into your condition.”
As the conversation between Raiden and the mage veered towards a mutual understanding and
a potential partnership, the mage extended his hand in a formal gesture of introduction. “Before we delve any deeper into your predicament, I suppose proper introductions are in order,” he said with a slight nod. “I am Artanis.”
Taking his hand, Raiden felt a sense of formality in the gesture. “Raiden,” he replied, though Artanis was already aware of his name. The handshake was brief but firm, marking a new phase in their acquaintance.
“Now that formalities are out of the way,” Artanis continued, releasing Raiden’s hand, “let’s focus on the matter at hand. Your affliction, as you call it, is intriguing and warrants a closer look. Understanding it could provide insights into rare magical phenomena.”
Raiden nodded, feeling a sense of reassurance in Artanis’s methodical approach. “I appreciate your willingness to help. It’s been a long journey with more questions than answers.”
“But, there’s something important you should know,” he added, his voice tinged with frustration. “I don’t understand why I’m constantly pursued by these monsters. One day, I just woke up with no recollection of my past, my identity – nothing. Since then, it’s been an endless chase.”
He paced slightly, the weight of his words evident in his movements. “I have no memories of my life before that day. No idea who I am, where I came from, or why these creatures are after me.” His hands clenched unconsciously, betraying his inner turmoil. “It’s like living in a nightmare with no beginning and no end.”
Artanis watched Raiden closely, his expression turning from curiosity to one of deep contemplation. “Amnesia coupled with relentless pursuit by unknown entities… that’s highly unusual,” he remarked. “It’s as if you’ve been thrust into the middle of a story without any knowledge of the beginning.”
Raiden stopped pacing and looked at Artanis directly. “Exactly. And without a past to guide me, every day is a struggle to survive and to make sense of what’s happening to me.”
The mage nodded. “This goes beyond a simple curse or affliction. It’s as if you’ve been erased and then thrown into chaos. Unravelling this mystery will require delving into some potentially dangerous areas of magic. Are you prepared for that?”
Raiden’s response was resolute. “I’ve been living in danger since the day I lost my memories.
I need answers. Whatever it takes to uncover the truth about my past and end this constant threat.”
Artanis’s demeanour shifted subtly as he processed Raiden’s situation, a sly smirk forming on his lips. His tone took on a more teasing, slightly arrogant edge. “You present quite the enigmatic subject for study, a living puzzle of sorts. But even for a puzzle as captivating as yours, there are… costs involved.”
Raiden, caught off guard by the sudden change in tone, raised an eyebrow. “Costs?” he asked, unsure whether Artanis was serious or merely toying with him. “I recall a certain moment on the bridge where I acted as your impromptu shield. Would you not consider that act a down payment of sorts for your ‘services’?”
His voice was light and playful, yet it held a subtle edge, gently reminding Artanis of the favour owed for his rescue from the menacing creature they had faced in battle.
The mage raised an eyebrow, his smile still in place, clearly amused by Raiden’s retort. “Ah, the bridge incident,” he said, nodding in acknowledgment. “Indeed, that was a notable intervention on your part. Let’s call it a significant deposit then.”
“Though, let’s not forget, it was your unexpected arrival that brought those monsters to my castle’s doorstep in the first place,” he added with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “One could argue that you owe me for the trouble of defending my home against a horde you inadvertently led here.”
Raiden’s expression became earnest. “In all honesty, I had no idea someone was living in the castle,” he said, his tone sincere. “Had I known, I wouldn’t have led those creatures here. I’ve spent all this time avoiding cities to prevent endangering others. For bringing trouble to your doorstep, I truly apologize.”
He looked genuinely remorseful, reflecting on the unintended consequences of his actions. “It’s been a constant effort to stay isolated, to keep others safe from whatever it is that’s following me.”
Artanis, observing Raiden’s solemn expression, nodded in understanding, his tone lightening. “Apology accepted, yet I must say, your method of knocking on one’s door is quite dramatic,” he quipped, a twinkle of humour in his eyes. “Most guests bring wine or bread; you brought a horde of monsters. Quite the housewarming gift.”
Raiden’s lips curved into a half-smirk, his demeanour shifting to something more suggestive. “Perhaps I owe you more than an apology for such an… unconventional housewarming gift,” he mused. “If you’re open to suggestions, I might have a few ideas on how to make it up to you.”
Artanis smiled, his expression mockingly sceptical, yet a hint of amusement danced in his eyes. “Oh? And what might these ‘ideas’ be?” he asked, his voice carrying a tone of playful suspicion.
“I must warn you, I’m not easily swayed by charming propositions, no matter how intriguing they may seem.” Despite his words, the slight curve of his lips betrayed his enjoyment of the banter. “Do tell, though,” he continued, leaning back with a look of feigned wariness, “I’m curious to hear what kind of repayment you have in mind, considering your unique style of introductions.”
Raiden adopted an expression of innocent surprise, as if taken aback by the insinuation. “Oh, you misunderstand,” he said, feigning obliviousness with a hint of mock innocence in his tone. “I was merely thinking of offering my skills or assistance in some practical way. Perhaps helping to fortify the castle or lending a hand with magical defenses?” His eyes twinkled with a subtle mischief, maintaining the facade of naivety. “Nothing more than a simple offer of service, you see,” he added, the corners of his mouth twitching as he struggled to keep a straight face.
“Ah, my mistake for assuming any deeper implication,” the mage responded, his voice rich with feigned enlightenment and a playful undertone. “A simple gesture of aid, of course.” He paused,
a mischievous glint in his eye. “Speaking of which,” he continued, “since you’re so keen on offering help, I do have a particular task in mind. You’ve likely noticed the castle’s somewhat… neglected state. How about embracing the role of a servant? A touch of cleaning here, a bit of organization there. Given your… distinctive flair, I’m sure you could bring a whole new level of efficiency to the mundane chores around here.”
Raiden’s response came with a slight, knowing smile, his tone playful yet confident. “A waste of potential, don’t you think?” he remarked. “You’ve acknowledged my unique talents yourself. Channelling such abilities into mere housekeeping hardly seems appropriate.” As he spoke, a sudden pang of pain shot through him, causing him to pause and wince. He instinctively grasped his wounded arm, his voice faltering momentarily. “I can’t help but think,” he continued, trying to steady his voice, “that you might have more… challenging tasks in mind for someone with my particular skill set.” His expression briefly betrayed the discomfort of his injury, adding a layer of vulnerability to his otherwise composed demeanour.
Artanis observed Raiden’s momentary lapse with an air of nonchalant detachment, though his eyes briefly flickered with concern. “Well, for the time being, perhaps the most challenging task you should consider is taking some rest,” he suggested casually. “After all, even those with ‘unique talents’ need to recover.” His tone was light, almost indifferent, as if he was making
a passing remark rather than expressing genuine concern.
Raiden nodded in acknowledgment of Artanis’s words, albeit with a hint of reluctance in his acceptance of the need for rest. He then moved towards a plush armchair, easing himself into its comfortable embrace with a careful, measured movement.
The mage watched as Raiden settled into the armchair, his gaze subtly tracking the traveller’s movements. There was a quiet attentiveness in his observation, as if he were assessing Raiden’s condition while maintaining a composed exterior. His eyes lingered for a moment, taking in the way Raiden adjusted himself to find comfort, before casually diverting his attention elsewhere in the room.
As Raiden found a semblance of comfort, Artanis casually initiated a new topic of conversation. “Your skills in battle,” he began, his tone carrying a hint of genuine interest masked by a casual demeanour, “they were quite… impressive.” He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. “The way you handled yourself against those creatures; it’s not something one sees every day.” His expression remained neutral, but there was an unmistakable note of respect in his voice.
A modest acknowledgment was evident in Raiden’s nod as he listened. He was aware of his prowess but never quite understood where such skill had originated, given his amnesia.
“Your fighting style, it’s not just skilled, it’s unique.” Artanis continued. “Almost as if it’s a blend of different martial traditions. Have you any recollection of where you learned to fight like that?”
Shaking his head, Raiden’s expression turned pensive. “No, nothing. It’s as if my body remembers the movements, the techniques, but my mind doesn’t. It’s frustrating, like trying to recall a dream that’s just out of reach.”
“I see,” Artanis said, stopping in his tracks. “That, too, is a clue. Muscle memory is a powerful thing. It suggests that your training was extensive, perhaps even gruelling. It’s not the kind of skill one acquires from casual practice.”
Raiden’s gaze drifted away momentarily, reflecting on Artanis’s words. “It seems so,” he replied thoughtfully. “There are moments in battle when instincts take over, and I find myself executing manoeuvres that feel both foreign and familiar. It’s as though there’s a part of me that knows
a history I can’t consciously recall.”
The mage observed Raiden for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. “Your appearance, too, is quite distinctive,” he pointed out, his tone indicating he was piecing together a puzzle. “Your hair, the unusual colour of your eyes – they’re not typical traits.”
“I’ve also noticed that it tends to… unsettle people,” Raiden added, a hint of resignation in his voice. ” People often get scared or turn me away because of how I look. It’s as if they see me as a bad omen or something unnatural.”
Artanis nodded, understandingly. “It’s not uncommon for the average folk to be wary of what they don’t understand,” he remarked casually. “To many, an unusual appearance is often misconstrued as a sign of ill fortune.” He paused, then added with a hint of genuine interest, “However, I find it quite intriguing. It’s not every day you encounter someone with such
a distinctive look. It adds to your…mysterious allure, if you will.”
Raiden’s eyes lit up with a mixture of surprise and genuine happiness at Artanis’s comment. “That’s… actually quite refreshing to hear,” he said, a small smile breaking through his usually stoic facade.
Artanis waved dismissively, as if to brush off the gratitude as unnecessary, yet his expression remained thoughtful. “Your appearance, along with your combat skills and the peculiar curse you bear, creates an intriguing enigma,” he mused. “It’s possible these traits are just coincidental, but from what I’ve seen, such anomalies often point to something more significant. They could be indicators of a magical or mystical heritage.”
Artanis, his gaze still fixed thoughtfully on Raiden, added a note of caution to his observations. “However, we must also entertain the possibility that these features of yours might hint at something less mystical and more sinister,” he said, his tone sobering slightly. “There are tales and legends of beings marked by such traits for reasons that are far from benign.”
He walked over to his desk, his hands clasping behind his back, signalling a shift to a more analytical mindset. “That remains to be seen, of course. We’ll need to delve into some research, explore ancient lore and perhaps even some arcane texts that are not commonly known.”
Raiden looked at Artanis, a sense of gratitude evident in his demeanour. “Before you get lost in the details of this quest, I want to thank you,” he began earnestly. “For healing my wound after the battle and for bringing me back to the castle. It’s been a long time since I’ve slept so peacefully.”
He glanced down at the bandaged wound, a reminder of the recent conflict and Artanis’s timely intervention. “Without your help, I might not have made it. This room, your healing skills, they’ve given me a respite I haven’t known in… well, I can’t remember when.”
Artanis gave a modest nod. “You’re welcome. Consider this castle a safe haven, at least for now. We have much to investigate and prepare for, and you’ll need your strength. Plus, repaying my debt for your assistance on the bridge is a matter of honour.”
His expression grew more resolute as he continued, “Now, to the matter at hand. The peculiarities in your appearance and your unknown past suggest a depth we have yet to uncover. I will delve into my research, scour ancient texts, and consult hidden archives. We must unravel this mystery, discover the true nature of your curse, and, if possible, find a way to remove it.”
He walked towards his extensive library, a treasure trove of arcane knowledge and forgotten lore. “There are ancient rituals and spells, long lost to time, that might hold the key to understanding your condition,” Artanis explained, his voice echoing slightly in the vast room filled with books and scrolls. “Some of these texts are dangerous, others are cryptic, but I am determined to find answers.”
Raiden watched him, a mix of curiosity and concern in his eyes. “I appreciate your willingness to help me,” he said. “But please be careful. I wouldn’t want my curse to bring harm to you or anyone else.”
Artanis paused and looked back at Raiden, his eyes reflecting determination. “Fear not. The pursuit of knowledge, especially of the arcane, is not without its risks. But it is a path I have chosen and one I walk with care. We shall uncover the truth behind your curse and, with luck, find a way to lift it.”
“You’ve made quite an impression on me, Artanis,” Raiden said, his voice tinged with a mixture of respect and uncertainty. “Your knowledge, your willingness to help, it’s more than
I could have expected. But now, I find myself wondering…”
He paused, looking around the vast library, its walls lined with knowledge that spoke of both wonder and danger. “This place, the state of the village outside, the experiments you mentioned earlier… it’s all a bit overwhelming. You mentioned these were byproducts of your research. It’s hard not to be curious about the nature of your work and the effects it has had.”
Raiden’s gaze returned to Artanis, seeking some understanding. “You speak of dangers and risks in the pursuit of arcane knowledge. But what of the consequences? The village seems… affected.
I can’t help but ponder the connection between your experiments and the state of things out there.”
Artanis leaned forward, his expression shifting to a more serious demeanour. “I have my reasons for what I do,” he explained, his gaze locked onto Raiden’s. “Reasons that may not be immediately apparent. But I assure you, there’s a purpose to all of this.”
“The path I’ve chosen, the knowledge I seek… it’s not without its burdens and consequences. What you’ve seen, the state of the village, it’s… part of a larger tapestry, woven with threads not all can see or understand.”
In Artanis’s eyes, there lingered a hint of something more profound, a deeper secret or burden he seemed hesitant to fully disclose. “There are forces, powers at play that are beyond ordinary comprehension. My actions, my research, they are tied to a greater cause, one that I am bound to.”
Raiden listened intently, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processed Artanis’s cryptic words.
“I understand that there are things in this world beyond my current understanding, and that your pursuits may be part of something greater,” he said cautiously. “However, the shadows in your words concern me. You speak of burdens and greater causes, but what cost does this path exact? Not just on you, but on those around you?”
As he listened to Raiden’s questions, Artanis’s expression became slightly more stern. After
a moment of silence, he replied, his voice firm and final. “You’re delving into areas that, frankly, don’t concern you,” he said, a slight smile playing on his lips as if to soften the rebuff. “Let’s not get bogged down in the minutiae of my work. It’s intricate, often tedious, and quite honestly, not particularly relevant to your situation.”
He casually turned his attention back to a shelf of books, as if signalling the end of the conversation on that subject. “We have a more pressing puzzle to solve – your curse. That’s where our energies are best spent. As for my research and its implications, well, consider that a separate chapter, unrelated to your story.”
Raiden nodded, understanding the unspoken boundary that Artanis had set. He decided not to press further on the subject, recognizing the mage’s desire to keep certain aspects of his work private. The subtle shift in Artanis’s demeanour was enough to convey that this was a topic best left unexplored.
“It’s been a long day, and you’ve had quite a journey. You should rest now,” Artanis suggested, his voice indicating a desire to end their conversation.
He began to gather some books and scrolls, his actions suggesting a shift of focus. “While you rest, I’ll continue my research. It’s best we use our time efficiently. The answers we seek aren’t going to uncover themselves,” he said, almost to himself as much as to Raiden.
Artanis didn’t make eye contact as he spoke, his attention seemingly absorbed by his materials. “The room where you slept is yours for as long as you need. We’ll reconvene once you’ve had
a chance to recover.”
Raiden, taking the hint from Artanis’s demeanour, gave a slight nod of acknowledgment. “Thank you, Artanis. I’ll take your advice and rest. Your help is greatly appreciated,” he said, maintaining a tone of gratitude despite the subtle dismissal.
He turned to leave the library, his steps measured and thoughtful. As he walked away, he couldn’t help but cast a glance back at Artanis, who was already engrossed in his study, his back to Raiden, surrounded by ancient tomes and parchments.
The room where Raiden had slept earlier welcomed him back with its quiet, serene atmosphere. It was a stark contrast to the library’s air of mystery and hidden knowledge. Here, in this simple room, Raiden felt a moment of peace, a brief respite from the whirlwind of questions and mysteries that had engulfed him since his arrival.
He settled into the bed, his mind still active with thoughts and questions about his curse, about Artanis and his enigmatic research, and about the journey ahead. Despite the fatigue that clung to him, these thoughts swirled in his mind, delaying the embrace of sleep.
As the day wore on, the weight of his recent experiences and the comfort of the quiet room gradually overcame Raiden’s active mind. His thoughts, swirling with the mysteries of his curse and the enigmatic nature of Artanis’s research, began to slow, giving way to the heavy pull of exhaustion. The concerns and puzzles of the day faded into the background as Raiden found solace in the much-needed respite, allowing the silent embrace of sleep to envelop him completely.
