—Atlantis Magic School, Subterranean Cellar, the Night After Elbert's Ritual—
Year 12118, Era Elyndris
The tempest roared overhead, each heavy raindrop beating against the windows, a cacophony that felt almost alive in its fury. Below, in the dim recesses of the cellar, the faint remnants of forbidden incantations lingered like a relentless fog, refusing to lift. Rinoa sensed it gnawing at her awareness—an unyielding throbbing behind her eyes and a low, ominous hum resonating through the Spiral.
"What is this feeling?" she murmured to herself, the confining walls weighing heavily on her heart. The air was thick with an unmistakable dread as she threaded her way through locked doors and concealed passageways. With every hastened breath, an unseen force beckoned her onward, until she found herself at the threshold of the forbidden cellar. The entrance gaped wide, and the metallic tang of iron filled her nostrils.
Throwing a fleeting glance around in a haze of trepidation, she muttered, "Key of the Forgotten." Instinct urged her forward as she stepped inside, an exhilarating blend of excitement and terror surging through her veins.
Inside, the air was oppressive, thick with the acrid smell of burnt iron merging with a deep sorrow that seemed to ooze from the very stones. Rinoa's shoes squelched in a pool of diluted crimson, remnants of dark sorcery smearing the ground beneath her. Shadows flickered under the feeble lamplight, and there, she found Elbert, crumpled against the earth, trembling as if the weight of some unseen burden pressed down upon him. His palm was pressed against the runes of a failed circle, while beside him lay Elise, her form a haunting reminder of the terrible ritual that had taken place.
"Elbert!" Rinoa's voice emerged as a choked gasp, disbelief stealing the breath from her lungs. "What have you done? It can't be… Elise?" A thread of anger wove through her words, fear and disbelief swirling within her like a brewing storm.
Elbert looked up, his eyes wide with dread, sweat pooling on his brow. "Rinoa! You mustn't be here," he gasped, panic clawing at his throat. "You need to leave, now!"
"No! I refuse to abandon you," Rinoa declared, stepping closer, her heart pounding as she took in the horrifying scene before her. "What could drive you to wield such dark magic? Those runes—Elise—she's…"
"I never wished for this to happen!" Elbert rasped, a jagged laugh escaping him, full of despair. "Desperation consumed me, Rinoa." He trembled violently, fingers twitching against the cold slate floor, grasping for the right words. "You, above all, should understand. We cannot control life or death, yet in my folly, I attempted to!"
"But what if this is not the end?" Rinoa insisted, her voice shaking with a blend of worry and fury. "What awaits us?"
"I… I thought I could fix it all," he murmured, his gaze lost in the shadows, as if searching for a glimmer of hope. "Yet I was ensnared by my own fear. She was my only beacon of hope."
She edged closer, her heart racing as her gaze flitted between Elise's lifeless body and the unsettling necrotech array. "That's—Elise?" Her voice hardly broke through the oppressive silence. "Professor, this magic—these runes are forbidden. What were you thinking?"
Elbert's laughter struck her like shattered glass, jagged and steeped in despair. "Thinking?" he scoffed, disbelief marred his features. "I was not. I am... desperate, Rinoa. Surely, you of all people can grasp this." He fixed his eyes on hers, searching for a flicker of understanding amid her horror. "I have read your essays. I have seen the longing in your gaze as you comb through the archives—do not pretend ignorance toward those dark revelations you secretly crave."
"I seek the truth, not this abominable mockery of life," she retorted, her voice cutting and unwavering. "You have defiled the very essence of the Root. You have summoned necrotech—Gaia's edicts are explicit, Elbert! No soul may return. Not in such a manner."
Elbert's shoulders sagged, his hope unraveling like a frayed thread. "Then why does the Spiral beckon us?" he implored, gesturing toward the intricate array with trembling hands. "What purpose do our memories serve if not to reclaim what we have lost? Should it not follow that the soul is merely a pattern?" He leaned closer, his voice thick with desperation, haunting as a specter's song. "I was so close—"
But a chilling voice sliced through the air from the stairwell above. "Step away from the body, both of you."
Rinoa spun around, her heart plunging into an abyss of dread. Faculty magi clad in black and green cloaks fanned out, their movements precise and deliberate, led by Vice-Headmistress Sivenna. Her eyes, sharp and discerning like shards of obsidian, swept over the disturbing scene: the spent glyphs, the lingering remnants of necrotech, and the haunted expression carved into Elbert's face.
"Professor Elbert," Sivenna proclaimed, her voice rich with authority, "you are hereby suspended from all duties, effective immediately. Miss Alfrenzo, you shall answer our inquiries as a witness." Her gaze drifted to the still form of Elise. "None shall disturb the scene—none, not even the dead."
Elbert sprang to his feet, desperation igniting his gaze. "You would have us obliterate everything," he shouted, his voice rising with agitation. "Yet you are all hypocrites—were your own kin upon that table, you would take the same risk!"
Sivenna's jaw tensed, her eyes narrowing as she examined Elbert. "Perhaps," she replied, her tone steady amid the chaos surrounding them. "But I will not tempt the Spiral's wrath for the sake of an untested theory. You shall explain yourself now."
Elbert's hands trembled as he gestured wildly at his scattered notes, the array of tools spread across the table, and the still form of Elise. "The theory holds, I assure you," he implored, his breaths coming in sharp gasps. "Vlad's necrotech—though forbidden—remains the only method validated to interact with the Spiral's memory layer. The viral serum creates a binding pattern—think of it as a bridge or a net—linking the remnants of bioelectricity in cadaverous tissue to the mnemonic echoes stored within the Spiral. If the pattern aligns precisely…" He paused, his words heavy with gravity, "the essence may be summoned back. Or even… reconstructed."
Rinoa's eyes widened, disbelief threading through her voice. "Reconstructed? You are saying… you do not restore a soul—you assemble them from fragments?"
"Indeed!" Elbert exclaimed, frustration tinging his tone. "It is all a matter of probability and resonance. Memories leave a mark—a specter—upon the Spiral. The necrotech is designed to detect those patterns and draw them back into their vessel. But heed this," he added, urgency lacing his words, "the vessel must possess compatibility. The stronger the resonance, the slimmer the chance that the outcome is… something monstrous."
Sivenna's voice cut through the fervent explanation, sharp and authoritative. "Yet what we observe is not a soul returned. It is but a marionette, animated through viral sorcery. The ancient Atlanteans forbade such practices for good reason, Professor." Her gaze fixed upon him, the weight of ages pressing heavily in the air.
Elbert's breath quickened, the corners of his mouth twitching with barely contained fury. "They feared that which they could not comprehend," he retorted, his voice thick with conviction. "And you would allow fear to dictate your decisions? Would you truly bury the hope of life simply because it stirs beneath a veil of uncertainty?" He stepped forward, a wild gleam of madness flickering in his eyes. "I can bring them back; I know I possess the power!"
Sivenna crossed her arms, her expression resolute and disapproving. "You tread upon forces far beyond your comprehension, Elbert. The Spiral is a fickle entity, and you are wedging yourself into its unyielding embrace."
Another magus emerged from the shadows—an elderly figure, his face lined with the weariness of countless struggles both mental and spiritual. "Is it true, as they say?" he croaked, his voice a gravelly whisper tinged with skepticism. "That the viral serum is indeed Vlad's original creation? From where did you acquire such a perilous artifact?"
Elbert hunched his shoulders, as if attempting to shield himself from the burden of his own tainted past. "During the war, Fitran and I—we raided Vlad's hidden laboratories," he confessed, the tremor in his voice revealing his unease. "We salvaged what we could find. I… I hoarded it all. I thought it would aid our research, deepen our understanding. I never intended for any of this to happen—" His voice faltered, caught in the choking grasp of his own conscience.
Sivenna's unwavering gaze pierced through the dimly lit chamber. "And what of these notes?" she demanded, lifting the battered satchel with the grace of a stalking predator. "Should you even think to utter a word regarding justice, I shall see to it that you stand trial for high treason."
Rinoa stepped forward, her voice quivering like a leaf caught in a tempest. "But those notes could be of great value. Not in the pursuit of resurrecting the dead, but to understand—to unravel how the Spiral intertwines with memory, and what genuinely hinders the soul's passage. Is that knowledge not worth risking everything?"
The elder magus shook his head slowly, each measured gesture laden with conviction. "Knowledge, Miss Alfrenzo, is never acquired without sacrifice. That is the first tenet of the Spiral."
Elbert felt the weight of despair drape over him like a leaden shroud. "Then bind me," he murmured, his voice fracturing beneath the strain of his emotions. "Destroy the notes, if that is your wish. Just… grant me a fleeting chance to speak with her. One last time."
Sivenna regarded him with a mix of sternness and unspoken compassion. "Do not misinterpret my mercy as approval, Elbert. You have crossed a threshold that cannot be undone." She signaled, and two magi stepped forward to restrain him, their faces reflecting both duty and discomfort. "Miss Alfrenzo, since fate has brought you to this moment, perhaps you should witness the toll that forbidden magic has exacted upon our world?"
Rinoa felt her throat constrict; a dry dread filled her mouth as anticipation coursed through her veins. With a nod, she gathered her resolve, steeling herself for the unfolding events.
The magi activated a containment field—a prism of azure light that enveloped Elise's form and the necrotech circle in a warm glow. As the radiance pulsed, strange runes ignited, swirling in the air to capture the psychic residue for careful examination. Rinoa's heart quickened, the weight of the moment feeling like an unseen force pressing upon her.
Sivenna, her brow furrowed in concentration, gestured toward the flickering runes. "Rinoa, interpret this for us. What secrets lie within these symbols?"
Rinoa hesitated for a moment, her fingers longing to trace the sigils that shimmered enticingly beneath her touch. "It's… it's the ancient Atlantean pattern," she whispered, sinking to her knees as her gaze roamed over the intricate details. "He did not merely invoke a name; he also summoned a memory-key—a signature echo reverberating throughout the Spiral. It resembles binding a living soul to a lifeless husk."
"So it is true," Elbert interjected, urgency and desperation tinting his voice. "The necrotech… it acts as a catalyst, does it not? It 'infects' the corpse with some form of mnemonic resonance." He took a few eager steps closer, his fervor spilling forth like a torrent. "But it is… incomplete."
Sivenna crossed her arms tightly, skepticism etching lines into her face. "What are you implying, Elbert?"
"It creates an echo—not a true revival! Yet, if we could stabilize the resonance—" Elbert's eyes sparkled with fervor. "Imagine a more compatible donor, a stronger key! The soul could be reformed. There exists evidence that the Atlanteans delved into the realm of living subjects, intertwining fragments of memory across various lifetimes—"
Sivenna cut into Elbert's discourse, her voice sharp as a blade. "Enough. Your obsession has cost you your career—and nearly unleashed a plague upon the Academy." She turned to the other faculty members, her expression grim. "Which safeguard has failed? How could he have obtained these materials?"
A young magus, visibly shaken, replied, "After the war, the vault… its inventory was lamentably poor. Artifacts from Vlad were meant to be destroyed. Yet—"
"Yet what?" Sivenna pressed, leaning forward, her eyes narrowing as she demanded clarity.
"There is resistance," the magus admitted, glancing nervously at Rinoa. "Some faculty members insist on pursuing research… adamant that knowledge is the only means to prepare for future threats."
Rinoa interjected, her voice trembling yet resolute. "Then we are all complicit in this. We seek to understand what has transpired, but at what cost?"
"There is resistance," the magus conceded, casting a wary glance at Rinoa as if weighing her reaction. "Some faculty members advocate for the continuation of studies—claiming that knowledge is the only means of preparing for potential threats that may arise."
"But at what cost?" Rinoa interjected, her voice trembling yet resolute. "We are all entangled in this. We yearn to uncover the past, but the fear of what it might demand from us paralyzes our resolve. Professor Elbert has crossed boundaries we had only dared to discuss in hushed tones."
Sivenna fixed her piercing gaze upon Rinoa, unwavering. "And you, Rinoa, would you not have acted in kind, should it mean sparing a soul dear to you?"
Rinoa hesitated, her heart racing within her chest as she sought the right words. "No, I would have sought another path. Yet… the desire to comprehend from whence the essence of wholeness comes still gnaws at me. What does it truly mean to possess a soul?"
Elbert's voice trembled with urgency as he strained against his constraints. "Do not allow them to erase the truths we have unearthed! The necrotech itself is not malevolent—ignorance is the true enemy! Should we abandon that which incites fear, the next Vlad may rise before we are even aware!"
The elder magus released a weary sigh, yet a steely resolve underscored his words. "There may be wisdom in your observations. However, far graver fates exist than mere ignorance. What you have conjured is not Elise; it is merely a hollow vessel, a façade brimming with long-buried memories."
Sivenna leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Is there any method by which you can extract substantial data from that circle? Can you discern a memory signature entwined within the remnants?"
Rinoa nodded, drawing from the depths of her training. "Indeed, with a Spiral attunement lens. If a pattern still remains, we might glimpse what has slipped away into the veils of time. It may illuminate the reasons behind the soul's failure to return."
She knelt beside the lifeless form, her eyes fluttering shut as she focused, her hand hovering just above the deceased woman's brow. The lens in her grasp glimmered with an otherworldly glow, and visions began to unfurl—fragments of shattered memories flickered into existence before her. She caught sight of Elbert and Elise engaged in spirited discourse, their laughter cascading among the shelves of the library, a sound that now seemed to haunt the very air. Yet, without warning, an inky darkness enveloped the fleeting images, giving rise to a monstrous tide of insatiable hunger.
"Everything feels so disjointed," Rinoa murmured, concern etched across her brow. "The necrotech may act as a bridge, yet this vessel…" She paused, casting a glance at the serene face before her. "It lacks the strength to withstand this turmoil. The viral magic thrives on suffering. It… it feeds on loss." A wave of sorrow struck her heart as she added, "That is the very reason those who have succumbed turn to violence. The one force potent enough to keep them steady is their grief."
Elbert's voice cut through the heavy silence, filled with determination yet tinged with despair. "Then it is not entirely hopeless. If only we could uncover a way—"
Sivenna's voice pierced the air with sharp clarity, interrupting Elbert mid-sentence. "Should you continue down this reckless path, the Council will not look kindly upon your defiance." Her tone bore an ominous weight, a stark reminder of the consequences that lingered just beyond her words.
An uneasy stillness enveloped them, as thick and oppressive as the dust motes that drifted in the waning light. After a moment of tense silence, the elder magus finally spoke, her commanding presence palpable in the room. "We must seal this site. It is imperative that we cleanse the Spiral's taint before it seeps into the very soil beneath our feet. Miss Alfrenzo, your task will be to examine the residue—under strict supervision, of course."
Rinoa inclined her head, accepting the command with a blend of resignation and quiet determination. "Yes, sir."
Sivenna stepped back, her gaze shifting to Elbert, whose indignation still crackled in the air like a brewing storm. "You will be taken to the Tower. The Queen shall determine your fate from there."
Elbert's fists clenched tightly, a fierce light igniting in his eyes. "You are all cowards! Do you believe this ends with my banishment? The Spiral never forgets! When the next war descends upon us, you'll regret ignoring my warnings!" His voice resonated, a mixture of desperation and rage echoing against the cold, unyielding stone walls.
The magi began to traverse the chamber, their voices intertwining in a melodic chant as they invoked spells of purification. Blue flames erupted from their fingertips, a chaotic dance sweeping across the sigils etched into the ancient stone, consuming the last remnants of the necrotech's sinister grip, leaving behind a haunting stillness.
As Rinoa lingered beside Elise's lifeless form, a heavy sorrow enveloped her like a shroud. "Was it truly worth it, Professor?" she murmured, her voice barely audible, quaking with doubt and vulnerability.
Elbert turned to her, his eyes shadowy yet intensely bright, locking onto her gaze with an urgency that sent her heart racing. "You must contemplate this, Rinoa," he said, an urgent edge to his tone. "When that fateful moment arrives, when someone dear to you is lost to the abyss, will you let their memory fade… or will you dare to do whatever is necessary to reclaim them?"
She held his gaze, the weight of his question wrapping around her like a cloak. As he stepped away, the echo of his words lingered in the air, following her as she ascended the cellar stairs. The flickering light of the containment field drew her attention, casting ghostly shadows along the stone walls. Within it, the ethereal figure of a woman with hollow eyes turned towards her, as if straining to grasp a name, a name that might unlock the door to redemption.
[The next day, faculty round-table—brief coda:]
Sivenna perched at the head of a lengthy, intricately carved table, her hands entwined as her gaze swept over the assembly of scholars. "Let us commence by facing the repercussions of our deeds," she declared, her voice steady yet commanding. "Memory virus, necrotech, and that dismal failed resurrection. What say you?"
The elder magus leaned in, his brow furrowed with contemplation. "The evidence is indubitable," he replied, a somber weight in his tone. "The forbidden arts serve a purpose. Even with the precision of Atlantean craftsmanship, one cannot summon a soul from mere memory alone."
Rinoa, present by decree yet burdened by her own struggles, spoke softly, "Yet the data suggests otherwise. The Spiral retains all it encounters. If the vessel is suitable—if the conditions are right… perhaps there exists a path yet unexplored."
With a low, gravelly tone, the elder magus leaned further forward, a deep frown marking his features. "The pattern reveals itself to those bold enough to acknowledge it. The forbidden arts remain so for a reason. Even with the finest Atlantean ingenuity, the soul cannot be reshaped from mere fragments of memory."
Rinoa, striving to keep her composure despite the mounting strain, interjected, "Yet the evidence tells a differing tale. The Spiral absorbs each essence it encounters. If the vessel proves fitting—if we could but stabilize the memory-key—" Her voice faded, the potential lingering in the air like a summoning unbidden.
A junior magus, precariously balanced at the edge of the table, let out a loud scoff, his disbelief palpable. "And what then? Shall we reach for the threads of immortality like foolish children? Do we invite upon ourselves a relentless war against the very fabric of our reality?" His voice dripped with contempt, echoing the unspoken fears that coursed through the assembly.
With a swift, cutting glance, Sivenna quelled the rising tempest of voices. "Enough," he commanded, his presence crackling with undeniable authority. "We shall study the residue. We will seal the vault. And we must remain ever watchful. The Spiral, as Professor Elbert has warned us time and again, never forgets." He placed heavy emphasis on the final word, his gaze piercing through the dimly lit room, a beacon of resolve.
As they prepared to disperse, a profound silence enveloped them, broken only by the soft rustle of robes against the stone floor. Rinoa lingered, her thoughts ensnared by a singular question: How far would she venture for memory if love demanded such a price?