Hopeless Rumantic

My horse plods slowly through the endless expanse of night. I take occasional sips from my flask, a drifter in a sea of souls. Each splash of rum stings at my ever-parched throat, but ignites the world in flames of regret—the lamentations of those who have gone before me.

A tired old man, grieving that his estranged son never knew that he loved him. A child who lived and died alone on the streets, uncared for. A woman who…

A woman who has utterly captivated me.

She holds out her hands, my horse coming to a sudden halt as they grasp my face. She stares deeply into my eyes. Such beauty. Such ferocity. Such hatred.

I see four men.

No, not men—four lascivious beasts, cornering their prey like a pack of feral hyenas eager for an easy meal. Four disgusting animals who should never be suffered to exist.

As her hands release from my face, I look up to the blackened sky, a brilliant swirl of aether stretching out into the distance. In my mind, the rightmost figure is clear, and I understand what my lady wants of me. I grab the reins of my steed and whip hard, galloping without restraint into the badlands. I will bring my lady peace at any cost.

The Sintered of Infernal Ossuary

Our pace is steady as the desert sands disappear behind us, giving way to a field of ash. Great shapes line the horizon, familiar yet macabre: a mesa formed from a ribcage—a spire made of spine. As my horse gallops on, I look down to see its hoofprints leaving a trail of glowing embers in our wake, the heat in the air seeming to increase with every step. It matters not; the aether stretches ever forward, and so we continue on.

Curiously, the shapes on the horizon seem not to be moving as they should; those on our sides race ahead rather than fall behind, and those ahead never get closer. As I wipe my brow with my bandana, the sweat streaming from my face, I see the end of the trail—a great swirl of aether in the sky; and below it, I see the landscape finally converge into a single, towering figure.

What may have once been human is now nothing more than a monstrous imitation. All flesh has burned away from the skeletal behemoth, its bones now held together by sinews of flame. It looks down at me, the raging inferno in its skull erupting from its eye sockets, and laughs.

I pull the reins hard to the right as the monster swings its fist at me, ash erupting from the ground from the force of its impact. I pull my bandana over my mouth and nose, desperate not to breathe in the cloud of death as I guide my horse between the monster’s legs.

Retrieving my rifle from my back, we do a quick about-face, the burning air stinging at my eyes as we gallop. I look the monster over as it turns, eager to strike at me again. Although its parts seem cleanly fused, some of its joints give off a molten glow, as though they have yet to settle.

As it lifts its arm for another swing, I see one of these molten spots on its elbow. Knowing that there is little chance it will miss again, I quickly raise my rifle, aiming for what I pray is a point of failure, and fire.

With a blast of heat, the monster’s elbow explodes into glowing shards, its fist and forearm crashing to the ground with another eruption of ash. The monster howls—from rage or from pain, I care not—and begins stomping towards us as we gallop away.

I look back as it gains on us, each step sending ash flying through the air, and see another molten spot on its left knee. Although steering my horse towards it will bring us into range of its remaining arm, I can see no other options, so I grab the reins again and tug hard.

In a mere moment, the monster is upon us again, but I ignore its impending attack and aim carefully. I squeeze hard, the rifle round impacting with another explosion of heat and molten bone shards. Letting out another howl, the monster loses its balance as its leg comes apart. I feel a rush of air and a cascade of ash as its ribcage collides with the ground, my horse barely managing to outrun it.

Even with the monster momentarily incapacitated, I know I cannot relent, as I cannot risk it reforming itself. Guiding my horse up its pelvis and onto its spine, I sling my rifle onto my back and draw my pistol. As we gallop towards the monster’s skull, I flick the cylinder open and reach into my ammo pouch, pulling out a Frostbitten Round and pushing it into the top chamber. I flick the cylinder shut again as we gallop up and over the monstrous skull, vaulting through the air.

I turn, pistol at the ready, and look the creature in its hateful, burning eye. It howls one final time, flames erupting from its mouth, as I squeeze the trigger.

For a moment, the air is still, as though the world itself has frozen—but as we land and I pull my horse to a stop, a shock wave rips through what remains of the monster’s body, each of its bones exploding into ash.

As the ash settles and the blighted air begins to cool, I lower my bandana with a heavy sigh—as much from relief as from exhaustion. However, knowing that I have no time for rest, I reach for my flask and take a draft.

Once more, the world erupts in ethereal light, and I see my lady standing before me. She reaches out her hands, and her vision once more arrests me, only not as I remember it: the rightmost figure has vanished, and now the one beside it draws my attention.

Releasing my face, my lady steps back, and I look up to the sky again. The aether trail appears once more, reaching far into the distance. I nod my head and begin riding, eager to put these ashen lands behind me. I know not what waits ahead, but it does not matter; I will bring my lady peace at any cost.

The Umbral of Winterlight Wood

Far from the wasteland of desiccated ash, I find myself riding upon its total inverse: dense woodland, seemingly unending, blanketed in snow. The ground crunches softly beneath my horse’s hooves as I carefully navigate us between the trees, searching for our next target. Though the canopy above obscures my sight of the aether, I spotted its end before entering the forest, so I rely on my memory to guide us.

I rely also on a string of fairy lights glittering among the upper branches—droplets of water frozen both literally and temporally, hanging suspended in the air and shimmering with an otherworldly light. As the light reflects off the snow, the whole of the forest’s understory becomes a patchwork of bright pools of light demarcated by sharp, oppressive shadows.

Crossing one of these boundary lines—from shadow to the next pocket of light—I feel a sudden sting as the flesh of my left arm is torn, and a remarkable force that sends me toppling to the ground. My horse squeals in alarm and quickly runs to a dark area behind one of the trees. I look around frantically, trying to ascertain the position and nature of my assailant, but I see nothing except the unsettling light from above.

Moving slowly, winded from my fall, I back up against a tree and assess my injury, still wary. Although my canvas duster helped to mitigate some of the damage, the cut is still deep enough to bleed, so I remove my bandana from my neck and do my best to tie it around my arm.

With my wound satisfactorily dressed, given the circumstances, I once more look around for any hint as to where the attack may have come from, but see nothing. I can hear my horse snorting and stamping its hoof nearby, but its resignation to the darkness makes it hard to locate precisely.

Yet I find this fact itself to be of interest: it was as we were moving from shadow to light that I was attacked; yet now, as I sit fully in the light and my horse holds fast in the darkness, no additional attacks have been made. Thinking that there must be something to this, I slowly stretch my leg towards the shadow beside me.

A sudden slice leaves a deep impression in my boot as my foot crosses the boundary, and the force nearly twists my entire body before I manage to pull my leg back. Thankfully, the leather is tough enough to prevent significant injury, but I note, unhappily, that there is skin visible through the cut. Were this monster to land a clean hit on an unprotected body part, it could very well be the death of me.

Another look around confirms that there is nothing visible nearby, which itself confirms my suspicion that the monster is a dweller of darkness—perhaps darkness itself. Yet its attacks come not from the darkness, but from the boundary between darkness and light. With that in mind, I lean forward and pull my rifle from my back. Although my injury makes it difficult to aim, I point it up and fire, shattering the fairy light above me.

Most of my surroundings are quickly engulfed in darkness, but another nearby light casts a sudden shadow across my face. I do my best to throw myself fully into the dark, but I cannot possibly hope to outpace darkness itself, and blood spatters against the tree behind me as I lose a piece of my ear.

Though the pain is intense, I know it is not life-threatening, so I quickly do my best to aim at the offending light, firing another round. However, as I squeeze the trigger, I note that there is another light behind me that will cast a shadow veritably splitting me in half, so I quickly roll to the side as the round erupts from the barrel.

Despite my best efforts, I feel a horrible stinging in my side as the second light is extinguished and the shadow slices across my body before I can evade it. I take a moment to gently palpate the injury as I lie in the darkness, my breathing labored, trying to determine if I have lost the fight.

Thankfully, though the laceration strains my movements and jars my concentration, it seems shallow enough to ignore for the time being. The more pressing matter at hand is how to eliminate the remaining light giving this monster power. Although I can tell where it is simply by the angle of the shadows being cast against the tree currently acting as my shield, I cannot see the light directly, and consequently cannot fire at it.

Suddenly, a thought occurs to me. If this monster attacks only from the shadows formed from cast light, it must be with me here in the darkness. In fact, by eliminating all but one light, I may have inadvertently pinned it down. All I need now is to know where to fire, and I can eliminate it for good.

I take my flask from the pocket of my duster and raise it to my lips. Although I cannot see this particular monstrosity, I suspect that my lady can. Sure enough, as the flames of regret once more engulf the world, I see her pointing into the wood, not far from where I know my horse is.

Setting my rifle on the ground, I draw my pistol and reach into my ammo pouch, retrieving a Photonic Round and loading it into the top chamber of the cylinder. Although I know not where the monster is precisely, it should make little difference. I aim in the direction that my lady is pointing and squeeze the trigger.

For a single moment, it seems the entire wood is set ablaze with purifying light. Before I am temporarily blinded by the round’s effect, I see the silhouette of a man standing before me, its baleful eyes staring down at me in abhorrence. And yet, a moment later, it is gone; as my vision slowly returns, I see only my lady, kneeling down and reaching out her hands.

Once more, the vision has changed: the second figure has disappeared, and the one beside it calls out to me. As she releases her hands, I stagger to my feet and carefully feel my way to my horse, following its distressed whines. After patting it a few times to calm it, I hold its reins and carefully guide it out of the forest, following the slight smattering of aether I can see through the canopy.

When we finally exit that accursed place and the world once again opens up, I hook my boot into a stirrup and once more mount my companion, glad that it emerged from the encounter unscathed. However, as I follow the trail of aether with my eyes, I see it stretch out into a great sea—not one deep below, but one far above—and wonder what horrors yet await us.

Nevertheless, I have no intention of turning back. I have seen my lady’s pain, and I will bring my lady peace at any cost.

The Abyssal of Inverted Basin

With the aether filtering and diffusing through the rippling waves above, the salt-encrusted seafloor shimmers with a soft, golden light that dances like liquid shadow. Although I cannot discern the path of the aether directly, I know that I will find its terminus so long as I do not stray from that glow. Following my previous encounter, that is something I am loath to do, regardless.

I briefly think I have erred as I ride into shadow, but quickly realize that I have not strayed from the light—the light has strayed from me. Looking up, I see the silhouette of an enormous ray, its fins flapping like wings as it courses through the impossible sea.

Just as I have spotted it, it, too, seems to have spotted me, as the silhouette inverts and rapidly begins to grow. I whip hard at the reins as the creature breaches the surface above, narrowly avoiding the gnashing of its spike-filled jaws as it arcs through the air and plunges back into the water.

As my horse gallops around hills made of sand and salt, I grab my rifle from my back and fire upward. Although my aim is true, the bullet loses all inertia as soon as it enters the water, leaving the monster unscathed. With a click of my tongue, I hold the rifle steady and wait for its silhouette to twist vertically again; despite the danger, if I have any hope of injuring it, I will have to wait for it to breach.

I see the silhouette turn and grip my rifle hard, my finger poised on the trigger. However, the monster seems to be holding fast, as if it intends not to breach again. I wonder at this development for a moment, but a moment is all I have before an enormous barb erupts from the surface and whizzes past my head, taking a chunk of my ear with it.

It seems as though the initial breach was intended only as an ambush; failing at that, the monster intends to snipe me from above, equipped with projectiles that travel as easily through water as they do through air. With this revelation, I sling my rifle onto my back again, as it will not be of any use to me, and pull my pistol from its holster instead.

My horse quickly gallops behind a large hill as another barb erupts from the surface, his sharp instincts no doubt saving my life. With my speculation confirmed, I reach into my ammo pouch and pull out an Implosion Round. If I have any hope of destroying this monster, I will need to strike it directly; however, this time the water works against me in a different way: if I simply fire into it, the pressure differential will cause it to detonate instantly, missing the monster entirely.

Fortunately, not all hope is lost; unfortunately, using the round effectively will require me to put both myself and my horse in imminent peril. However, I am once again left with no other options, so I guide my horse to a position of safety and pull us to a stop as I scout the horizon, looking for an adequately tall hill.

Having spotted one, I spur my horse into a gallop as the monster’s shadow falls over us again. Knowing it will take at least a few moments to reorient itself for another shot, I press my horse as hard as I can up the hill, its hooves thankfully maintaining traction despite the cascade of particles we leave in our wake.

Once we reach the top, I waste no time pulling my feet from the stirrups, poising myself on my horse’s back, and leaping upward, arms outstretched. My momentum is thankfully sufficient for me to plunge into the briny depths, but the sudden change in pressure crushes down on my chest, threatening to expel all of the air from my lungs.

It matters not. As I struggle to keep my eyes open—my pistol either pointing directly above or below me, I cannot tell anymore—I see the monster bearing down on me, its mouth agape and its eyes burning with hatred. I do not have time to consider any alternatives, so I summon the last of my strength and fire.

The round flies through the water as if it were air, but as it enters the monster’s gaping maw, it pierces through the soft flesh of its interior and enters a low-pressure cavity within its body.

In an instant, the monster—as well as much of the surrounding water—is gone. I feel a violent tug as the implosion pulls me towards it, but then feel a gentle current pull me down, or perhaps up, to the surface again. As I breach it, gravity abruptly takes control of me, and I fall hard onto my back beside my horse.

With the wind knocked out of me and my vision blurred, I lie still and quiet as the sea above me falls back to the earth as a thunderous rain. There is no telling how long I remain motionless, as most of my senses have been dulled, but as the rain eventually stops, I begin to breathe again.

Sitting up, I see that my horse—as sodden and soggy as myself—is still at my side. Around us, the sea is as it should be, and a narrow land bridge stretches out to the shore.

I remove my flask from the safety of my duster and raise it to my lips. Although I truly fear for the first time that I may not survive the ordeal, I know that there is but one foe remaining—one final obstacle before I can prove my devotion to my lady—and I cannot stand the thought of abandoning her.

She kneels down at my side and extends her hands. With the three rightmost figures gone, only the face on the far left remains. Something about this one seems different, however; while it is no less cruel and sadistic than the other three, there is a frightful intelligence—a sense of deliberation—behind the eyes.

There is no doubt that this will be the most dangerous of the four, but I clench my hand into a fist and use it to prop myself up. As I stand beside my horse, stroking it to reassure myself as much as it, I look up at the aether and know that I cannot afford to fail. With some effort, I hoist myself onto the saddle and begin to trot away from this vile sea.

I will bring my lady peace at any cost.

The Resonant of Crystal Babylon

My horse plods slowly as I attempt to dress my wounds. Above us, the aether stretches ever onward; beneath us, the terrain has leveled out, and small crystals litter the landscape, crunching underhoof.

Once I feel that I have managed to stop most of the bleeding, I goad my horse into a faster gait. Before long, I espy what seems to be some sort of obelisk in the distance. As we approach, I see that it is a crystal much like the ones around us, only significantly greater in size.

Curiously, I also see something I could not have anticipated: a fork in the aether. As we arrive at the crystal spire, I strain my eyes in both directions, but see nothing except more crystals. With no other guidance, I blindly choose the right path and urge my horse along.

We pass many more spires as we follow the aether, the trail seeming to zigzag from one to the next, until we again arrive at a fork; however, from the trampled crystals, I see that it is the same fork we initially found. While I had hoped we were progressing towards something, it seems we were merely circumnavigating some sort of significant space.

Assuming that our foe lies somewhere beyond this crystalline boundary, I turn my horse and begin to ride away from the aether. Unsure of what we might find, I unsling my rifle, my eyes scanning the horizon carefully.

Without warning, I feel a sharp pain in my left side, as if a solid object has just struck me at high speed. There is no cover within the boundary of the spires, so there is little point in trying to hide; instead, I turn my horse in the direction of the attack. I may not be able to hide, but the same should be true of my assailant.

Another shock wave of pain shoots through me—this time on my right side, and much stronger than before. I frantically scan the horizon as I turn my horse again, finally seeing something in the distance. Unsure of what it is, but assuming that it is the source of the assault, I aim my rifle and fire.

In a mere moment, my horse is decapitated and my left hand is severed, along with the forestock and barrel of my rifle. As my horse stumbles and falls lifelessly to the ground, I slide through the dirt and crystals, lacerations appearing all over my face and body until friction mercifully brings me to a stop.

The urge to scream in pain is overwhelming, but a thought holds me back: whatever this monster is, it seems to operate by sound—the galloping of my horse, the explosion from the barrel of my rifle, and even the sound of my body tumbling and scraping across the ground.

Furthermore, once the sound stopped, the attacks stopped. That would suggest that the monster is not merely echolocating, otherwise it would continue to attack the last spot it heard me.

I see, now—the aether trail never ended because my foe is not a singular entity: it is this entire space.

Any hope of returning to the boundary is gone; however, I still have a chance of defeating this monster. If my hypothesis is correct, it is likely that the positioning of the crystal spires is not random, but a carefully distributed grid to form a resonator. In that case, the interior of this oppressive space would form a standing wave, and there must be nodes within this space where the amplitude of the wave bottoms out.

Although it would be impossible to calculate precisely, the center of this space should be one such node. If I can simply move to the spot where all of the spires are visible at once, I should be able to destroy the resonator in one fell swoop—and the monster along with it.

I try to restrain my groans as I begin to crawl towards the object I fired at before, which I can now see was one of the spires in the distance. Lacerations continue to form across my body as I crawl, but as more of the spires come into view, the intensity of the attacks diminishes before ceasing entirely.

Looking around, I see all sixteen of the spires. Although the blood running down my face has blurred my vision, the eight outer spires seem to be equidistant, as do the eight interior ones. Assuming that I have reached the center, I carefully pull my pistol from its holster and flick the cylinder open, my hand trembling. I place it gently on the ground and reach into my ammo pouch, pulling out an Amplifying Round and loading it into the top chamber.

I press the gun against my chest to close the cylinder as I roll onto my back. Assuming I am correct about the nature of my foe, I need only fire this one round—and if I am wrong, I will likely die too quickly to notice. Pointing the pistol at the sky, I focus the last of my strength into my trembling hand and fire.

There is no sound—the resonance frequency of the crystals is beyond my ability to hear. However, as the round takes effect, the crystals in the distance begin to shudder until they all fracture and collapse simultaneously. The air above me compresses briefly from the intensity of the shock wave into a nearly human form, but I care not to look into its hateful gaze before it vanishes once more.

I drop my arm to the ground and release my pistol, then slowly draw my flask from my duster. With great difficulty, I manage to open it and splash some rum into my mouth. I am eagerly awaiting my lady’s peaceful smile, but that is not what I see.

As my lady places her hands on my face, I see that the four figures have vanished; yet behind them, in the distance, is one I had not seen before. As I look at it, I see a face of indifference—a face of cowardice. It is a face that I know all too well.

When the vision fades, so does my lady. All I can see now, as I stare into the starless sky, is a single swirl of aether.

An ironic chuckle escapes my lips as I close my eyes and reach into my ammo pouch. A single normal round is all I need this time.

I will bring my lady peace.

At any cost.