Cor Cordis

[Patrick]

The boy stopped and craned his head to the side in utter curiosity now, all reason and logic clearly proven wrong when he compared the state of her leg with the words she'd said. Ice shouldn't ever do that to a person honestly, but if that was normal for the visitor before him; then who was he to argue as to whether or not that was how the leg should be. Yet after a momentary pause of consideration it seemed as though Sybil was willing to play, and the response in itself warranted the young boy to smile at her. "Really? I should warn you, I'm pretty good at this game." He stated with arms tucked behind his back shyly.

Then came her remark about things being strange, in which the child warranted a look of uncertainty about her. "Strange?" It became evident that he hadn't the slightest clue as to what she meant, to him this place seemed to be a safe haven in comparison to the outside world. When she asked what the game was though, he smiled just a little and took a few steps away from her. "Hide and seek." He answered with the continuation of slowly creeping away. "I'm going to hide, and you have to find me." Obviously the rules needn't explanation to Sybil, but the boy didn't even hint at the need to count.

For the moment Sybil blinked as he back further away, the boy suddenly vanished from her sight as if he wasn't there. More children laughed distantly in the woods, and for a moment the visitor found herself alone within the meadow. Looking at the surrounding area there wasn't a single spot to hide in, the grass seemed far too low to even lay in and hide successfully. No. The boy had to have left the meadow somehow but without any paths...

Just as the realization of there being nowhere to go really, three distinct clearings appeared beyond the border of trees. Sybil might've stood alone at the center of this place, but now she had three new paths she could investigate here. Surely one of them had to lead to wherever the boy was hiding! He could either head straight towards the path he faced already, or take a turn either to the left or right for one of the others. What he'd come across along the way, much less discover after taking them, waited to be discovered by Sybil and Sybil alone at this point.




Patrick first wandered back towards the assortment of collectibles to investigate there, hopeful that he'd find some sort of tool to help ignite the brazier at the center. Obviously the things like the crystal chalice, the pendants, the cracked ring with glowing text; out of all the collectibles that resided there nothing seemed particularly useful to the cause. The Rharnian swallowed hard with a sigh of frustration, with the word "fuck" uttered as he moved away towards the bookshelves next. Not that he'd find anything there in terms of a fire starter, but perhaps there'd be a useful tome about this place?

He walked steadily down the first ailse he chose to explore with eyes scouring over the spines, his fingertips trailing along them as he read the names aloud in his mind. Or tried to at least... some of the tomes seemed to possess no such name on their spine, while the others had unusual markings instead of actual names. "How the fuck am I supposed to actually know what any of this is?!" He remarked with a look over his shoulder to the shelves behind him, aggravated to discover the same sort of predicament existed with those as well.

"Probably because they're not actual books like you think!" That voice! Patrick perked up and looked towards the weird gyroscope mechanism at the center of the ceiling, relieved to find that the little creature had found her way back to him.The bright little pixie soared towards him, with an orbit around his body before she finally just fluttered before his face. "We're somewhere within the scape of your mind and the dream realm Patrick! Things here are a lot more different than in reality."

"Yeah, no kidding..." He remarked as he looked from her towards the room in general. "Something tells me we're supposed to light that brazier in the center. Any idea how?"

"Uuuum." The uncertainty in her tone led him to consider that a likely no. "Think of it like this, you're not entirely limited to the standards of reality here. Much like when you dream the state of that dream is constant, ever changing in it's own unusual ways."

"Right..." Patrick couldn't help but hold a minor acerbic tone, as if everything she'd just said made complete sense to him.

"How do I water it down to where you can understand better?... Hmm....." The fairy seemed to bounce in the air for a bit as she seemed occupied. "Let's just say, let your imagination do the work?"

"Yeah, okay." Pat rolled his eyes and looked away, "Clearly I don't understand what or how any of this works, it's not like I can look over at the brazier and imagine a damn kit's there already!" But sure enough... the moment he laid eyes on it there it was, a little tin box that rested on the side of the object. His eyes narrowed and then widened with utter disbelief, all while Ri hovered up and down with joy at his accomplishment.

"Ta-da!" Her tone held another volume of sarcasm.

"Pff, shut up." He remarked with a wry grin as he walked towards the brazier, the tin box taken in one hand and popped open with another.

"Pat", "Ri", "Dom", "NPC"

[Sybil Malach]

In this moment, Sibyl was utterly alone in this strange glade. The dreamer was confused, for a long moment, as the game was enacted with very little genuine idea on what is happening. Just as the ice on its leg had defied logic, the children of this area defied logic of their own accord. Things were shifting. It hurt Sibyl's mind to think much of it, allowing a hand to rest on the forehead, once the dull ache started to take root. Something was causing this pain in the waking world. It was bleeding through into the dream itself. A soft breath is taken, as the dreamer adjusts to the reality once more, mentally centering, as the fragment attempts to hang onto its fragile existence. Something was wrong here. Not here as in this place, but was wrong in how the fragment was perceiving things. Teetering on the very edge of wakefulness.

Sibyl was faced between a three way fork in the paths. ... Would the child actually go down these routes? Sibyl's eyes slowly glance around, to the grass and trees around. It seemed more obvious that the child would hide in the woods itself, rather than something so obvious. ... But no child in their right mind would wander from a path this far from a town. They were whipped into shape over these sorts of issues, weren't they? A slow shake of the head, as Sibyl attempted to gain some mental clarity, among the near silence, aside from the vague laughter, "Suppose this won't hurt." Comes the voice from Sibyl's lips. More of anything, honestly, just talking to keep the silence at bay.

A glance is given between the three directions. There is no clear answer, here. The left is chosen.

The choice was entirely arbitrary, truly. Sibyl was in foreign land, with a foreign layout, and no real context to its own existence. The best that could be done, is following one's base impulses and going with instinct. And Sibyl's instinct, at this very moment, was vaguely favoring the left. So, on Sibyl went, slowly meandering along the grassy glade. Boots crunching at the grass and leaves underfoot. It was turned into a stroll, at the very least, with eyes slowly glancing at their corners, as though trying to make sense of where a child would even hide, among these paths. An inkling sensation was guiding the dreamer down further into the dream itself. There was no reason to think that these paths would truly lead anywhere eventful, or even relevant. It simply... Just felt like it would.

Glancing upon the greenery, Sibyl wondered where this could be. There were two places that the dreamer remembered reading about that had flora like this. Desnid, and that... Other place. The one with the men. The large ones. What were they called? The thoughts travel through Sibyl's minds, as logic is beginning to be applied to things that shouldn't be thought about, in the dream. Several times as it walked, the entity even seemed to sputter out of existence, as it lost focus on sleep. The dreamer was entering some sort of strange twilight of half wakefulness.

But nevertheless, Sibyl continued onwards. Playing this game.

[Patrick]

Sybil chose left.

While she had no absolute reason to stick with one of the paths presented before him, the path to the left led onward from the glade into a denser part of the words. Eventually the density of trees grew even more, their consistent numbers making nearly impossible to stray from her path. Until they seemed to merge at the center, in the perceived sense that they made a cone into the path, until finally a sudden flash blinded her for a mere instant. Her transition from the glade led her into an open field now, an endless field of grass that stretched onward as the sky darkened to night.

Behind her she could see in the distance the crowded space of trees from where she'd warped from, all while the quiet laughter she heard earlier seemed a little more prominent... and closer than before. The sounds of a carefree child were very near to her, and with a little further trepidation she soon stumbled upon someone.

A girl this time.

She was smaller in comparison to the boy with her hair a lighter brown, all tangled in a mess as she pranced about the fields so carefree. Until she noticed that there was someone else present, the figure of Sybil who had been drawn to the sounds of joy here. Soft gray eyes honed in on Sybel as she seemed to welcome her with a smile, and even take to approach her without a second thought.

"You found me!" She squeaked a little enthusiastically as though she expected Sybil. Perhaps she did, or perhaps she expected the boy instead. Regardless her warm and vibrant personality proved difficult to ignore, and for all intents and purposes Sybil actually did find the girl. "Sorry but he's not here, you'll have to check one of the other secret places!" Her smile seemed genuine until a thought crossed her mind, and for a moment the girl seemed to ask something deep of Sybil.

"What's the one thing you care about more than anything else?"

Curious eyes remained focused on Sybil now as the girl awaited an answer, as though the question carried a great significance in itself. How she answered could've very well determined the rest of her venture, but then again she could've very well stalled by conversing with the girl.




He placed it's lid down from where he picked the box up and placed the box onto the lid, the content inside then taken out as he looked to it with complete dismay. "Fucking really?!" He chimed as he held up a candle stick with aggravation.

"Use. Your. Imagination." She insisted of him more when he looked to her sharply. Patrick couldn't help but release an aggravated sigh, already irritated with how much effort this was taking. He focused on the wick of the candle and stared at it hard, picturing in his mind what it would look like if it were alight. Normally something physical was used to make such a thing happen, but clearly in whatever place they wound up in; the physical wasn't absolutely necessary to make it happen. He concentrated and tried to mentally force some magical flame to be conjured, but that only resulted in a brief headache on his own behalf.

"Pff. This isn't working."

"Stop trying so hard! For once just stop, and rule out all reasoning or logic! Whatever you're doing, just stop and allow what's inside to take over!" Ri'ku sounded pissed all of a sudden, it honestly startled Patrick at how a little thing could have such a lofty tone. Was he really trying too hard? He didn't really understand it at all, nothing here made any sense to him and he clearly remained too frustrated to listen before. But now? "Sorry..."

He couldn't help but smile a little at how quickly she apologized. "About time you started yelling at me over something." He commended as in a way of accepting her apology, sure enough their spent moment led him to briefly look at the candlestick again. The wick suddenly burned with a soft flame at it's tip, as if the moment of clarity between them helped give the push he needed to achieve the goal. "Guess it's not as hard as I thought." Ri'ku sighed at that but a brief chuckle followed afterwards.

With the candlestick tipped so the flame went into the brazier; the inside caught fire in nearly an instant as once more, a golden flame burned brightly before Patrick and Ri'ku. The Rharnian narrowed his eyes a little and backed away, as he noticed the mechanism above came to life suddenly. The weird circular frames started rotating on their own, with the sound of metal groaning away as gears started to churn against one another.

"Pat", "Ri", "Dom", "NPC"

[Sybil Malach]

Sibyl was confused, at the new child making an approach and claiming to be found. A slow tilt of the head. To Sybil, this simply made very little sense. This was an entirely different person altogether than the person the dreamer was looking for. Sibyl offered a slow shake of the head, kneading at the side as they chuckle, "I fear that you have me confused for someone else." Comes the reply, with a slow shake of the head. A soft breath is taken, simply taking in the strange smell of the pollen lingering in the air. Sibyl was used to getting nosebleeds at this point. The prospect of actual, genuinely humid air was another miracle entirely to the dreamer. Perhaps, even a far deeper hint that there was a lack of control in this dream. Completely, and utterly, at a loss of control.

The one thing you care about more than anything else.

The question catches Sibyl off guard. The question itself was something rather rough to answer. Those lips part, as though to say something, but pause. Something churns in the back of that mind. Something that causes the dreamer to simply say whatever comes to mind, "Humanity." Comes the answer. Easy enough. Sibyl was known for being a poor liar anyway. And while the dreamer's absolute lack of a faith was not publicly known... This was as safe as an answer as what could be given, considering who Sibyl is even talking to.

This was a stranger's child, after all. Not only not someone who Sibyl trusted fully, but someone who likely would not understand certain aspects of what was being said. There is something to be said about keeping to truth, but also sparing the details of anything that is far too wordy to be understood properly. The dreamer taps the ice frozen upon its leg, in some sort of idle gesture, as its boots sink to the dirt, gaining a more stable footing, "It is very easy to lack such a basic thing. It's like a locket made of gold. There is only a very few ways to obtain it, yet so many endless ways to lose it." The student tries to explain, as marble green eyes rest on the child. A slow tilt of the head in mild consideration is given, "And when it is lost, grabbing it back is far harder."

[Patrick]

The girl's hard stare remained as she waited to absorb the answer, to hear what the dreamer before her had to determine. Sure enough the very thing she needed to say, came out in the form of a single word but only at first. The girl watched Sybil still curious but somehow, understanding of where the dreamer came from. Her answer spoke volumes to the girl, and was clearly a well thought out one from the start.

Yet the girl didn't change much less react, just as soon as Sybil finished the logic of reasoning; the girl simply vanished right before the dreamer's eyes. Yet again she was alone for the moment, before a blink of the eyes transitioned her back inside the glade once more. The path she'd come from no longer remained traversable, and the air here felt even more warmer than before as the sun shone bright as day.

Sybil might not have known it but meeting the girl had a much deeper effect than one could imagine, and his answer would sink deeper than any other dreamer would think possible. Until then two more paths remained for him to explore, he could either go straight or take a turn to the right. He was after all still playing hide and seek with the boy, all while Patrick kept busy trying to relocate to Sybil.

So which way would the dreamer venture to next?




At the center of the mechanism he felt the air shift, as though he had managed to open something reminiscent to a Rupturer's portal. Strange though... he no longer possessed the Spark, so what exactly did he feel opening at the center of the spherical thingy?

Right as he watched the reaction of lighting the brazier, he felt something like a ping deep within his core. It only lasted for a moment but nonetheless, it's manifestation created a brief amount of discomfort; as though somewhere in his heart lurked another being. "What's wrong?" Ri'ku checked as he groaned a little from the pain, the fixation suddenly gone as fast as it's sudden manifestation.

"Not sure..." He answered. "Something weird honestly." The comment created another short laugh from the pixie. "So if this is like... my own mind scape as you call it, then does that thing take me back into the dream?" He asked since she seemed to know so much about this place.

"Uuuuuuuuum." Suddenly he couldn't help but grin at her uncertainty. "Find out and see?"

He needn't bother saying anything. Clearly she wanted him to find out for himself, most likely because she wasn't entirely sure either. Patrick focused on the contraption above, more importantly the shifting space in it's center, and thought back on where he was before he got here. This place was somewhere in his own mind, so if he could access it by dream then could he also do it in the waking world? There was a lot of questions to ask with this new power of his, but first he needed to see if he could jump back into the dream he'd left behind. The Rharnian gazed hard into the center of activity only to see pitch black within the core, that is until color slowly started to fill within the boundaries of the mechanism above. Colors took shape and as shapes took a solidified form, Patrick could finally see the dreamscape he'd fallen out of.

Pure white ice and snow blanketed the pillar he had been on, which looked now to be abandoned as the figure no longer stood there. "What?"

"Uuuuh, I think they've altered the state of things there."

"No kidding." Was his only response as he closed his eyes and focused on the setting of that place. Patrick allowed his mind to wander back to that spot he'd vanished from, his senses accompanied with a mixture of fire and ice since he still stood close to the brazier. The more he meditated on the feeling of that place, the more he felt his mind tugged back towards the spot he tried to warp back to. The mechanism above hummed as it's rings spun around faster and faster, until the very fabric of reality around it shifted and slowly became the very dream he sought to return to. The cold blew into the room as snow and ice pelted his form, until finally when Patrick opened his eyes to see that he no longer stood in the room.

But atop the pillar once more.

"Pat", "Ri", "Dom", "NPC"

[Sybil Malach]

Humanity, to Sibyl, was an almost Thetras follower's doctrine taken to a strange level. Magic was a vile art that harvested one's entire being for the purposes of power. Allowing in a parasite that would, eventually, reap what remained of the soul, a game based entirely upon human suffering and greed. The Immortals, while Sibyl did not understand much about them, was held to very low regards. Who were beings of power to demand sacrifice in behavior for the sake of what, worship? Utter and complete devotion, with nothing in return aside from gifts that made them more dependent on the object of worship. And these scraps of humanity sacrificed, in the name of the lust for power? There was utterly no repair to the soul, once it had come to this sort of damage. Sibyl had seen the derelict patients within the Academy, the ones that the students took care of and learned from. The ones that enforced the Academy's monopoly on arcane studies were a good thing, in Viden.

But now, Sibyl was faced with the familiar glade, once again. The aberrant chroma to the dreamer's eyes started to induce a mild headache. Sibyl takes a breath, slowly. Something hadn't made sense here. Teleportation? What was happening? Why was this affecting Sibyl in such a strange way? This place didn't feel right. It was comforting, but something about it to Sibyl told the dreamer of something that wasn't all to together. Perhaps it was the dreamer itself. Perhaps it was the very ground it walked upon. A deep breath is taken. The thoughts were beginning to hurt. Coming in too fast. The fragment of the dreamer was only able to handle so much thoughts racing through its mind. This was the fragment that contained Sibyl's personality. A true, genuine reflection of the mind. It was, however, not the whole. Bereft of instinct, and societal values, it existed as it wanted to exist. Looking higher, as its basic needs were simply not met. Perhaps the only way the dreamer was able to withstand so many questions having to be waived away. They simply were not thought of for long.

Now two unexplored branches remained in front of the dreamer. The dizzying smell of pollen was upon the air. Perhaps comforting to those from these sorts of lands, it confused Sibyl's nose. The dreamer having to swipe with a sleeve, every so often due to the sheer issue the mucosa within the nose was having with it all. But it was not entirely unpleasant. On the contrary, it was a small price to pay, for an area as comforting as this.

With a shake of the head, Sibyl moved to the path to the right.

With a crunch of grass underfoot, the dreamer truly seemed to consider the surroundings. This place, in all of its noises and intent. It didn't truly, entirely, make much sense. But it made enough that it still offered its calming effect upon the dreamer. This was like a long stroll through a park, to a person who had never been to a park. Because this is exactly what it is. Sibyl didn't have the imagination for such greenery. It was only through the fact that it inhabited someone else's dream, that this would even be believable.

"... Was I... Looking for someone?" The fragment's memory begins to slip, as it forces itself into ignorance once again, to remain whole. Walking down the path based on the sheer want, now that the reason is slowly being entirely forgotten.

[Patrick]

Sybil's choice had been the right this time and much like before, he traversed the path before him until yet again he warped away. This time to a sort of cavernous spot on the side of some mountain, with the wind gusting into him while he needed to gain his bearings. From the looks of it the ground had been a long ways down, even then the trees would've make the fall much more pain. Where this place was seemed uncertain but from where Sybil stood, he could see quite far out across the plains.

There was a lake with what appeared to be a town nearby, as well as the forest with another town in the distance. Inbetween near the farmlands however she could see it, the ever so tiny grove he'd been whisked away from once more. It became evident that this wasn't just a simple dream, but a reflection of a place dear to the person Sybil sought. Entering the cave he'd found himself standing at, Sybil wouldn't hear any sounds of laughter like before. Instead there existed a consistent grinding of stone against stone, which became clearer when she entered the hidden grotto found within.

A small water spring existed at the heart of this tucked away place, and over by the walls of the cave there stood another boy; a pointed rock in hand as he carved into the wall with it's edge. Had the wayward dreamer found the boy after all? He looked fairly similar from behind to be sure, but when he noticed that he wasn't alone the face of the child didn't quite match up. "Huh?" Brown eyes looked upon the visitor as he watched her plainly, a hint of curiosity in his eyes now that he knew Sybil was there.

"You found me too then." He remarked a little lowly and with a deeper tone, which hinted at the slight difference in age from the other boy. "What are you so afraid of?" The boy suddenly asked as his eyes remained locked on Sybil, the significance somehow lofty with importance just like before.



Snow and frost chilled his skin as Patrick held his arms close to his chest, his hands used to brush warmth into them as he looked all around. The frigid air felt denser now and after a minute passed, the pillar of stone he stood on seemed to rattle from way down below. Was it going to fall? Had the ice damaged the earth enough to cause a fracture? He didn't like the sound of that...

When he looked back the brazier had gone away from the looks of it, which meant that if he wanted to find the figure from before; he needed to do it through some other means. Just as he turned back to look out into the swirling blizzard in the air, Patrick noticed how dark it had become since his previous visit. Had night fallen in this place by chance? It was impossible to tell without any means of-

Shadows moved.

Black figures swirled atop the surface of the snow, taking the form of blobs that slowly grew into creatures. Shadow beings that matched the ones from the event back in Vhalar 716! He'd thought that to be the last time he'd ever see monsters like those again, yet here they were ready to swarm him on this isolated rock! "Patrick!"

"Right!" He already knew what she was going to tell him to do. He needn't not think but just let his intuition... no... his imagination do what it needed. With a flick of the arm away from his body he pictured a weapon of some kind to appear, and sure enough with a minor flash of luminescence something appeared in his hand. A broadsword! The same one he'd used to fight away the shadows that day in fact, how ironic given he hadn't any real experience at that time. But now? He'd seen plenty of the world and lived through many scuffles along the way, and while he still wasn't the best sword fighter out there... he could at least do a better job against these things.

Patrick didn't wait to charge forward with sword swung over from his right, the blow angled down to smash into the first of several shadows he smited. The others reacted and moved in for the attack, and left him with almost no time to react when he saw the first one lunge. Patrick held the sword up before him with the edge aimed at the shadow, it's claws several inches away from his face just before he pushed the blade up to hack the creature away. Another jumped at him from behind, in which Ri'ku forewarned him of the occurrence in time for him to rotate his form and strike from the left.

Three shadows dispatched... still quite a few around him, and the cold wasn't making this fight any easier. He needed to find a way out of here, to meet back with that stranger. If only he'd have the chance though, with all these shadow creatures lurking about trying to attack; Patrick found that his concentration was more spent on the fight. Rather than on seeking out that tangible connection he believed he felt between him and the visitor from earlier.

"Pat", "Ri", "Dom", "NPC"

[Sybil Malach]

"The end of all things." Sibyl says.

The fragment of Sibyl seemed to be unable to fully lie. The words that left its mouth were the brutal truth of anything it was asked. Even though its memories were shattered and distorted, it was offering a truth. A truth that was primal, and deeply seated behind Sibyl's mind. Sibyl was afraid of many things. Silence, Magic, Gods. There was a reason so far deeply rooted within the dreamer's mind, that only through this dream, could the root of the fear be addressed. Even now, the child's apparition could see Sibyl shudder, and spasm, just admitting this. It was something that shook the dreamer to its core, and perhaps the only reason why it was even able to confront this without waking up, is the fact that this dream is not outright playing upon the fear directly. A child was asking this. A child in a strange place, sure, but children were the least threatening thing.

"We are quick to dispose of the golden locket of humanity." Sibyl's eyes slowly turn to the distance, glancing upwards, in the grotto. Ice was slowly begin to sink within the place. It curved along the lip of the opening of the cave to the sky, and slowly spread, swarming like small maggots, or spreading veins. A slow shake of the head is given, before returning to the child, "We think that doing that can preserve others. ... But all it truly does, is convince others to cast it aside. And soon, eventually, we will be left with only a precious few. Despised for their weakness. Despised for their freedom, given unto them, for clutching the locket."

Truly, it was the root of all things. The Spark eroded at one's very being. One's very soul. Marks were similar. Sibyl wasn't an expert on it, but the prospect of it was something that horrified the dreamer. It was the excuse given for the person that left Sibyl's grandfather a lump of squirming flesh. That the graft spark was something that twisted people into disgusting curiosity. Sibyl still remembers the family meeting surrounding that. The damage was irreparable. Cyril had to be put out of his misery. No amount of healing, let alone counselling would have repaired the elderly man from the trauma he had endured. It was something that Sibyl wasn't even able to send off the grandfather over. It was an event that had to be relayed through letter. And then spoken of a year later, when Sibyl could finally see the family once more.

A breath is taken, as the memory flickers. The reality of fear, and the events starting to grind against the current reality of the dreams. It was inconvenient. The ice upon Sibyl's leg began to spread upwards, in its slow, steady march. It didn't affect movement, but it was choking the warmth of the dreamer, bringing it ever closer to wakefulness.

"In losing it, there is nothing worth fighting for. Nothing worth learning. We face true entropy."

[Patrick]

The young boy Sybil had answered said nothing more, much like the girl before him, and only stared in reciprocation to the answer given. Humanity. A genuine philosophy could be seen out of Sybil, a rather considerable and reflective outlook that was maintained all throughout the response. Indeed many lost bits and pieces of their humanity, though through more than just the afflictions brought on by an embedded Spark. Such entities merely carried out the influence in their own sort of way, until the frequencies of their nature became more intune with the host they fed from.

But what of the Immortals?

Those blessed by these higher powers typically retained their humanity in some way, only when that individual was cursed did one find it waning as Sybil feared. And now? The dreamer had no means of being aware of it but the dream he traversed was different, it's very nature tied to the remnants of humanity within another. So what did these questions mean to that individual? How were they important for regaining what pieces were lost? There resided only one more path for Sybil to tread now, which became obvious when the boy in the cave faded from existence.

Then with a flash the dreamer had returned to the meadow just as before, the only path left to travel before him under the quiet of night...



Patrick kept on his feet as he moved around in a fashion that defended all angles possible, his weapon brought around to hack at whichever shadow leapt his way. By now he'd dispatched a few more of the jittery creatures but even so, their swarm kept him far too occupied to realize what exactly took place. Snow and rain swirled all throughout the air, and the cold barely felt recognizable now that he'd danced with the darkness at his feet. Ri'ku did every little thing she could to help him, whether it was a brief warning of what attack came next or when to immediately dip to avoid harm.

No matter what he did though the swarm never relented; Patrick's struggle remained a constant until the roar of thunder was felt all around. The weather had become volatile here, as lightning struck hard all around the pillar he stood upon. He felt the earth beneath his feet quake and then slowly tilt, and just as Patrick remained diligent with keeping his footing; another painful shock pinged within him without warning. "Patrick!" The pixie's cry nearly drowned in the sound of the raging storm, all while Patrick backed away from the shadows before him with a hand clutched at his chest. Another roar rolled throughout the sky, and with a blinding flash there came another crackling sound as lightning struck at the heart of the pillar.

The devastating boom not only shook but sent Patrick reeling over, as bits and pieces of the earth were torn off from the powerful strike. And everything that broke apart toppled down, including Patrick, through the turbulence and towards the base of where the pillar should be. Except there was no land to fall upon, only a torrential sea that swallowed all that fell within. The Rharnian felt his entire form smash into the water below, and just like that he became consumed within its depths.

"Pat", "Ri", "Dom", "NPC"

[Sybil Malach]

Sybil hadn't thought much of the Immortals. Pampered by The Ice Queen's largely hands off approach to leadership. Most of Viden's current silent legal ingenuity sprouted from her inability to keep her eyes open above her hellish tests, after all. Worship was done by honest trade and research, outside of that hidden sect. One that Sybil was largely unaware of. Perhaps it would be for the best, not knowing. It is better to have one thing to fear, rather than two, after all.


Continuing to walk down the path, keeping a slow, and meandering pace, the ice slowly begins to spread up the dreaming body. Digging against the flesh, deeply embedding like veins against the inner layers of skin itself. Sybil shuddered. Blood was beginning to run cold within the dreamer. It wasn't hurting, but it was slowly being roused by some strange design. In the waking world, the dreamer was slowly beginning to wake up. This 'Sybil' was perhaps the closest thing to 'humanity' of the shattered dreamer. A complete embodiment of the personality suppressed in the waking world, in favor of a culturally acceptable one. To lie about one's own identity, to surrender it for any sort of power? For dogma, or for power? It was all blaspheme. It was a rakish lie told by flashily debonair men and women with an agenda to spread.

Sybil can't help but stagger along the last winding path. The dreamer's breath was present upon the air itself. It was starting to get harder to move the joints of the legs. Beginning at Sybil's left leg, even, one could simply look straight through the foot. It becoming so subsumed by the ice, that it had taken upon its properties, delving into utter transparency. One could audibly hear the clicking, and the dull thumps that came from the leg itself. This was the only place that this fragment of Sybil knew. And if it was to die here, it would know just where it all ended. Press on. It knew not, the answer to why, but only that this 'Sybil' must keep moving. That the ice could somehow be staved away, just a little longer, to experience all there was in this tiny world, before returning to whence it came. All it knew, was that 'death' approached for it. It sought to bring the natural order back.

The transparent ice that was beginning to melt against the dreamer's flesh was forcing Sybil's leg to terminate on a sharp edge. Wincing, it was finally starting to hurt. The glorified peg leg began to sink within the dirt. The dreamer forced to carry on this march by dragging it along like dead weight to avoid the pain. For some reason, buried within the soil, the ice only then decided to scream out in absolute sensory overload. The destination was in sight. Not quite the true destination, of course, but the thing that Sybil had been following all this time. The logic of the world, that had been instilled upon the dreamer.

At the end of the path... There'd surely be another shift. There had to be, right? A dull fear in the back of the fragment's skull lingered, that perhaps it was endless.