novelraw Chapter 283: The Funeral Pyre
Chapter 283: The Funeral Pyre
Chapter 283: The Funeral Pyre The white flames crackled as they danced beneath the ashen timber, flickering wildly to the excited rhythm. Men and women adorned in white burial robes spun around the radiant pyre, singing a forgotten song.
“Oh, the shore! The shore, shore, shore! Ever so distant and ever so near!
“We dance on the waves of their false tears!
“We light torches from loss and ash, to free the shadows of
“Our Carcosa!”
They danced and danced. Ever so joyful, frozen in the moment. But while the rest of the choir held their eyes upon the mighty flame, there was one who seemed lost. He sang along in sync with the others, but his mind had been whisked away, watching the mist stir beyond light’s edge.
What. . . What is happening?
Why are we singing?
Why are we dancing?
He didn’t know anything. It felt as if his mind was an empty vessel—a shell that had nothing to protect. Nothing to understand. . .
The nameless boy could only dance. And dance. And dance. . . It felt as if they were frozen in a repeating script—one that didn’t seem to possess an end. Any attempt at resistance would vanish instantly from his mind. As if he was acutely aware of his purpose. There was nothing more to his existence than this simple dance, and his mind could only accept that reality.
Why? Why must I accept it? Who dictated such an outcome?
His own mind replied back instantly, It was you. You dictated this outcome.
Why? He asked himself and once again, it replied:
I don’t know.
The dance around the flaming pillar repeated in a cycle—each loop more monotonous than the last. No matter what he thought or what logic he presented, his mind would simply overrule it all, forcing him to continue this demented waltz.
“The Hyades sing and the Hyades dance!
“We await our Monarch, who may yet have a chance!
“So let the bright conqueror rest within broken graves,
“For the queen’s dreary song shields no one in
“Their Carcosa!”
By now, the nameless boy had already grown numb to it all. He couldn’t even remember when his questioning of this twisted reality began. Time itself seemed to no longer possess any meaning.
But a sudden thought struck him. The flame, he thought. What is it? Why are we dancing around it? Curiosity got the best of him. There was no resisting the light’s allure.
But what he saw within that light. . . sent a dozen chills down his spine.
A person. . .
They were burning a person!
His pupils dilated as the burning figure responded to his gaze. They were charred to the bone. No, it would be more accurate to say no flesh remained at all. Only a skeleton tied to a burning stake—their expression frozen in agony.
This wasn’t just a funeral pyre. This was a murder dressed in mourning.
“My. . . song. . .” He heard it call to him. The burning figure’s voice echoed louder than the crackle of the flame. . .
The nameless boy wanted to reply. He wanted to ask why this was happening. Why were they burning this person? But his lips moved on their own, forced to sing with the jubilant choir. He stared blankly at the burning figure—his twisted expression saying it all.
“Song. . .
“Song of my soul. . .”
Their throat burned with every syllable. And yet they persisted, melting in the agony of a song none could remember:
“The throne of a King and the sword of a knight!
“They wait for us here at the edge of His light!
“The black stars watch us from above the shadowed sky,
“For the mist laughs at the weeping lake in
“Found Carcosa!”
The group of men and women jumped with their arms high, ending the song once more, only for it to begin again moments later. Over and over again, it repeated, despair settling in the boy’s chest with every word he sang.
Until finally, the monotony of it all ended with the rattle of chains.
Somewhere behind them, he sensed an approaching presence. Their steps thumped loudly as they arrived closer to the ritual dance.
While spinning around the flaming pyre, the boy caught a glimpse of the approaching visitor. His eyes widened as he recited the lyrics again.
An amalgamation of dark bones strung together into a colossal beast passed through the mist, entering the forgotten plaza. After a few more cycles of the dance, he was able to grasp its other details as well. The darkness surrounding it took a solid shape, covering the hybrid skeleton creature like thick fur.
On its back rested a dark coffin that clung tightly to the shadows. The chains that once sealed whatever slept inside dragged freely from its sides, rattling with every step the beast took.
“Do you wish to remember?”
A cold breeze brushed past his ear, carrying the whispers of someone unfamiliar. But before he could ponder over its origins, the person in question revealed themselves!
A young man in his twenties manifested before the raging flame—his white burial robes danced amongst its flickering shadows. He held his arms behind his back, staring into the nameless boy’s eyes with a tinge of madness tinkling in his. Strange violet colored butterflies swirled around his figure as he smiled brightly in his direction.
The nameless boy continued to sing along, letting the other dancing performers carry him around the pyre. His eyes, however, remained fixed on the mysterious figure.
“You don’t have to answer me verbally. If you want to remember everything, simply look at the burning woman and I will take that as a ‘yes’ to my question. I will give you ten seconds.
“Ten,
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“Nine,
“Eight. . .”
Hearing the countdown, the boy’s eyes raced toward the funeral pyre. He stared closely at each of the charred body’s features, imprinting its horrific expression within his mind.
“Good choice.” The mysterious young man said with an approving nod. Then, he glanced behind him toward the skeletal beast while smiling even more cynically:
“You heard the boy, Albert. Bon appétit.”
A strange illusory sword flew from the depths of the mist toward the skeletal chimera, slamming into the dirt before it. Punctured through it was a strange creature made of darkness. Its size was relatively small, but its features were terrifying anyway.
The boy observed it keenly, feeling a strong connection to the horrific shadow. Aside from its six arms which it used to try and desperately escape the sword pinning it to the ground, its face seemed to resemble that of a spider’s but with twisted humanoid features. It stared back at him with its colossal, cellular white eyes—he couldn’t read its expression at all.
But before he could scrutinize it further, the oversized skeleton named Albert leaned forward with its massive skull, taking a bite out of the living shadow. The creature pinned by the illusory sword squirmed in agony, clawing its way through Carcosa’s dark sands, hoping for any way of escape.
But it was too late.
The nameless boy watched in horror as the cannibalistic feast continued. No one reacted to the shadow’s screams of agony—he and his fellow dancers continued to sing and move in unison around the flickering flame.
Albert tore the shadow to pieces, consuming it all until only the invisible sword remained.
“Why! Why did you—” The boy shouted at the Traveler only to realize what he had done a second later.
“I. . . I spoke?” He froze, taking a step back instinctively. Without realizing it, the nameless boy had already left the circle of dancers. No, he wasn’t a nameless boy anymore either.
He had finally remembered who he was.
“Alis!
“I Am Alis of Albion! The third son of Andred!”
Soren clapped softly, “You remember your death as well, right?”
“Death. . .” The boy stared deeply at his own ashen hands, watching them tremble beneath the flame’s flickering light. He smiled softly.
“Yes, I do. I remember everything. To think our wish of returning to dear Carcosa would cost us a price this heavy.” He glanced toward the dancers, recalling each of their faces. The one who he held hands with during the dance caught his eye. “But if you were to ask my father, he would likely say that this is all His will.”
His smile widened as he shook his head. Then, he crossed his arms over his chest, recreating an old religious gesture he had only just remembered.
“May Oblivion cover the skies!” His shout echoed beyond the dark mist. The eyes watching from above the shadowed heavens turned toward him, observing his actions keenly.
Seeing their response, Alis nodded in satisfaction. This was all he could ask for in his final moments. Soren stood still, watching as his body began to form noticeable cracks.
“By the way,” the Traveler smiled, “we wish to use your Remembrance for a little prank. WIll you allow it?”
The boy chuckled. “Does that question really require an answer?”
Soren shook his head. “Very well. I will be sure to use it wisely.”
As he said this, the last remaining pieces of Alis the young knight crumbled like sand, blown freely in the wind. And his final words were carried as well:
“I wish you well on your journey, Butterfly Mage.”
The Traveler could only stand still, letting the boy’s words echo in his mind. Nothing remained of him, except for a strange mask that mirrored his final expression.
Butterfly Mage, huh. . .
He sighed and walked forward, picking up the Remembrance. Without wasting a second, Soren expanded his Soul Realm and forged another Fairy Blade. This time, he was going to attach Alis’ mask to it.
“Go. . . toward the lake of darkness.”
The sword flew instantly following the command, piercing through the thick dark mist. All he needed to do was help deliver the mask to the lake’s periphery and escape quickly back to the village plaza without being noticed! For a second, his own figure also flickered slightly—the illusion that made up his form had crumbled due to him traveling outside the range only for it to regain its features upon his return. All that was left was a trail of violet butterflies that would vanish moments later.
Glancing at the dark coffin sitting atop the monstrous shadowy skeleton, Soren decided to confirm his actions:
“That will do, right?”
The mist stirred slightly—an echo answering from within. “Indeed. Hyades Castle’s gate will not open unless those pests are taken care of.”
“Pests. . .” Soren couldn’t help but chuckle. “No wonder they hated Avalon so much.”
“I meant their living shadows! Not the people of Hyades themselves!”
He smiled and shook his head. Their plan had managed to succeed somehow. At least, for now. . .
According to Ynixia, this village was once home to the Hyades. A foreign race of people that were assimilated into Arthur’s empire. They were the first to fall against his continental conquest, sparking countless conflicts during his reign. Within the Avalon Empire, they were known to be the most rebellious.
But even stranger than their history of endless revolts, had to be their religious beliefs. They were known to worship a deity outside the “Holy Trinity,” as Ynixia likes to call it.
A deity known as the Origin of Secrets. . . The Nameless Monarch.
This was a deity he had heard of once before. The strange entity possessing Julie’s body mentioned how He was that deity’s servant.
Carcosa, Earth, Yarian. . . He pondered. What exactly is the connection between the three? No, a better question would be: What was the connection between Carcosa and those two linked realms. . .
The Nameless Mist itself seemed to have originated from these lands, or perhaps Aelyne—the Holy Maiden—had brought its powers to Yarian and Earth for some unknown hidden agenda. He did, after all, know that both Her and Guntharion were not originally a part of Arthur’s band of knights. Their arrival during the Age of Mythologies was a completely separate matter.
Could the Hyades also be of the same origin as Guntharion then? They were all originally inhabitants of Carcosa who traveled to Yarian during that ancient age?
There was no way for him to confirm anything. . . Not yet, at least. He stared blankly at the dark coffin and frowned.
“What are you looking at?” She said rather plainly. The annoyance coursing through the dark mist was rather obvious.
Soren sighed. “Nothing. I just didn’t think your dreams would give us such a major clue. My expectations for this plan were relatively low.”
“Hmph. Just say it plainly—you had no trust in me. I knew for a fact this plan would work. After all, living shadows are a reflection of the fragmented inhabitants. They will always possess similar traits to their counterparts.
“Since the living shadows that reside in that strange nest are connected to the Hyades people, discovering one of their kin disappearing in that. . . lake. . . will immediately send them into a frenzy.
“After all, that lake holds the living shadow of the person they hated more than any other.”
Soren glanced at the burning stake—the charred skeletal figure within the flames refused to disappear, despite it all. Sighing, he turned once again to face the coffin.
“So when will you tell who it is? I want to know how you’re connected to these people—to these lands.”
There was a sudden pause before he heard her answer:
“You will know when the time is right.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “Fine,” Soren shrugged. “Let's get going then—before those strange shadows notice who the real culprit is.”
They were likely still going to face them in battle eventually. A distraction like this will only work for so long. But that was the point—their goal was never to defeat the shadows. Their true aim was entering Hyades Castle to find the woman Ynixia saw in her dreams. . . And there was no way of doing that when the strange nest still remained in the way.
Whatever consequences all of this will cause couldn’t be predicted, so Soren would much rather leave it to his future self to deal with!
Seeing the rest of the dancers continuing their song, Soren could only shake his head in pity. They were blissfully unaware of the reality they were forced to participate in.
Don’t worry. Alis likely trusted me to free all of you as well. I will honor that trust.
But for now, he needed them to continue doing what they were doing. Their existence was an anchor to the living shadows within that nest—causing a disturbance with them will only destroy the distraction they had just carefully crafted.
It was a good thing I selected Alis’ shadow for the ‘bait.’ He thought inwardly. Unlike the others, he didn’t seem keen on participating in their. . . rituals. It would have been bad if he refused to remember his past.
There were many cases in the past few months where the fragmented inhabitants would reject their offer of helping them remember. No matter what they said, nothing would convince them at all.
Fortunately, it didn’t happen this time. . . He was grateful to Alis for accepting their offer—freeing his relatives was the best way to repay him.
The Traveler walked past the raging flame, leading the skeletal chimera through the dark mist. But just then, a charred voice louder than the singing Hyades reached him.
“Stranger. . .
“Do you also possess. . . a mask?”
Soren paused, turning to face the eternally burning skeleton. He couldn’t see her expression, but he could tell there was a subtle longing in her voice.
He smiled softly. “No, I don’t.”
With that said, he took a step forward, vanishing once again within Carcosa’s ancient shadows.