Chapter 160: Edge of Everything

Chapter 160: Edge of Everything

Chapter 160

Edge of Everything

The chill of winter was permeating, but Sylas didnt care. The cold winds, rather, cooled his mind as he made way from the far-northern castle closer toward the continents midland, where the village resided. Though still technically in the north, the village was much closer to the rest of the civilization than the castle. The latter was a smudge on a table-sized map, something a child would point to and ask Father, what is this place?, and got a barebones reply, There where men go to die.

Taking a swig from a gourd, he looked up at the moonless, starless, clouded sky. This was already his fourth descent down south. After the first one, where he managed to kill the Shadow, the other two resulted in rather painful deaths. As Sylas decided to slowly escalate the fight, eventually, he simply became unable to match the Shadow.

The levels of energy were incomparable--the only thing, really, that marginally closed the gap between the two was that Sylas was a cockroach. He was beyond difficult to kill, even for someone like Shadow. And, as the latter couldnt engage in Sylas favorite style of fighting--blow for blow--the fights usually took quite a long while to complete.

Two deaths, though, were not for nothing; hed probed deeper into the man, into the thing beneath the surface. One thing was for certain--just like Sylas... that was no human. That was something larger, something that defied the simple mortality of man. It was beyond pondering, though not as evidently crimson as Sylas.

There was a certain depth, a certain sullenness that the darkness hid beneath the gaze of a man who'd outlived a Kingdom--life to him, just like to Sylas, was a fleeting thing. Though he was consumed in his own river of anger, it wasn't much different than Sylas'--there was the rage of defiance, the rage of wanton helplessness. Beyond it all, Sylas felt it dangerous to interact with the man--for, more and more, he'd begun seeing the world from his perspective.

Shadow, or Shadows--however many existed out there--saw the rest as beneath them. After all, they were the kindling figures who even defied Gods themselves--who undid the chains binding the swath of humanity. They crushed them, the tight bonds that had enslaved mankind for the time immemorial.

And that was their true purpose, Sylas learned shortly after his third death to the man. The man hated Sylas not because Sylas was strong, but because the man thought hed gotten that strength from the Gods. That, somehow, the Gods were beginning to influence the world at large once again. That their perennial battle, their sacrifice... was in vain.

Its all beginning to make some sense, Sylas mumbled into the wind, his untied hair flapping about violently and wildly, unbridled like his spirit. Three stories danced and mingled... and the fourth whispered softly.

Sighing yet again, he bound the distance--and within ten days found himself facing the village yet again, and the shadow that imminently stirred. It appeared in front of him cloaked in arrogance, shining decadently beneath the faint shimmer of moonlight. It was one of the few days when a moon would creep out and greet the world. Though beautiful, Sylas was blind to it.

Staring at the Shadow, the man stared back in equal measure--one wrapped in black attire from head to toe that hid his features, and the other wearing nothing but tattered pants and an old belt, topless and barefoot in the winters chilly snow. The only thing that seemed even of remote worth was the blade hanging loosely at the side, as though it was the only thing a man needed to wander the world.

Who are you? the Shadow asked, as it always did.

"The cult treats you and your brethren as deities," Sylas spoke, wanting to confirm his theory. "And believes your goal is the resurrection of the Empire. They act independently, led by the faded knowledge that their ancestors barely managed to salvage from their burning homes. They want to depose the Kingdom and arise from its ashes. But they will fail. You and your brethren... you do not care for the Empire. Your solitary purpose in life... is to guard these lands against the Gods' influence. One of you, likely, was the source of that hand. They must have felt it--a twine of something akin to Gods' power. After all, I repeatedly saved without thinking much. But that power... had to come from somewhere."

... the Shadow continued to listen, silent.Visit no(v)eLb(i)n.com for the best novel reading experience

"Though it is not Gods'... perhaps, to those of you who would lose their minds at anything remotely approaching the realm of Gods... it wasn't worth the risk," Sylas sighed, looking up at the moon. "Everything is irrelevant. You hide behind the mask of degeneracy, of evil. But in the end... you wear those masks to hide. You know that the connection remains, however faint. Otherwise, there would be no Prophets, Exorcists, or any manner of Divine remaining. But there are. That means... there exists at least one Cairn somewhere out there, splicing the realms, however barely."

Indeed, dearest crow.

But he does not know still, dear doe.

One day he shall, dearest crow.

When is that day, dear doe?

Not today, dearest crow.

When, then, dear doe?

When the fires assail and the sky bleeds ashen.

He shall ache, dear doe.

He must ache, dearest crow.

He must ache?

He must ache.

You must ache, Sylas shivered, his entire body tingling with the cold sensation. Why must he ache, dear doe?

To ache is to live, dearest crow, the voice said as the time came undone. He must let it all burn. Burn. Burn. Burn.

We hate fires, dear doe!

But he loves them, dearest crow!

He loves them indeed. We must listen, dear doe!

For our wish compels us, the tiny, beady, black eye bored into Sylas soul for a moment. Our wish compels us... dearest human.

The time came unfrozen and Sylas stood dumbfounded. Shadow, too, seemed confused--but largely as to why Sylas suddenly canceled his attack. The latter was still shaking in a cold sweat, reminiscing. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee, he screeched inwardly in terror. I nearly shat my pants... Jesus lovely Christ what in the Gods name was that fucking shit holy God of all that is holy--