Curselock

Chapter 263: Tears

Mason woke to a blue sky with drifting clouds. He groaned a bit, stretching his legs in that special way that made his spine shiver and his brain melt. He smiled, smacking his lips. He loved the sun on his face, the wind in his hair, the soft bed he laid on. Releasing breath after breath, he contemplated his life up to this point.

A soldier from the age he could join the military, a Legacy of the Garrison since he was nineteen. It wasn’t the most glamorous role, but he thrived well enough. Protecting his countrymen, protecting his kingdom. His brothers and sisters. His fathers and mothers. While he didn’t see his life as meaningless, he knew that if he had to give it up for the good of his people, it would be a life well spent.

And it seemed like that time had come.

Memories were a strange thing. He knew he had died, but even here, staring at the blue sky just watching the clouds go by, he couldn’t bring himself to think about his death.

He remembered the Tear, the crack in the world that made his knees go weak. He remembered his commanding officer explaining his role in defending this new frontier. He remembered feeling proud that he could protect his kingdom from the threats of the unknown. And finally, he remembered the monsters.

“Scout section three,” his commander told him. “Find any traces of saboteurs or Witches.”

Simple orders, straight forward work. And Mason had done it. He and his team had completed the assignment. Section three was infested with Witches. They lived under the sand, hiding in fox holes like cowards as they controlled the monster above.

And while Mason had died fighting said monsters, his team had sent messages back to command. He only hoped his team made it out alive.

That thought roused him somewhat. He felt around, he curled his now dismembered arm.

What?

Gaping at his hand, the memories he didn’t want to think about came back. A blade chimera had done it, Mason remembered the sword-like tendons of the creature slicing him across the chest. He remembered his arm falling to the sand, plopping with a splattering of blood. From there he had fallen to his knees, his guts spilling from his belly only to be stopped by his armor. Darkness rolled in not long after.

“Are you awake now?” a voice called. “Can you help me with this?”

Mason turned his head to the right, finding what looked like a crag spider nest. Long before his nineteenth birthday, he remembered he and his friends exploring the nearby wood and running upon a nest. He chuckled at the thought, crag spiders were harmless if you didn’t get caught in their webs, but he sure remembered sprinting through the trees to alert the guards.

The best part was that the guards already knew about the nest. A listing for adventurers to take care of it had even been posted in the local guild.

His smile faded when he realized he was hundreds of miles from home… and more importantly, he wasn’t dead.

The realization made his heart jump into his throat. Not a moment later, an ability of his Legacy activated. Calm in the Face of Danger was an interesting ability, but it was one of the few he knew of that activated automatically without his input. Simply put, if he was shocked, the ability made him calm.

Sometimes a soldier’s job was like that.

A cold, muted sheen of gray washed over the landscape, turning the black sand he sat on into a more hideous color. His mind instantly went to the crag spider nest. Finding it wasn’t a nest or web surprised him, but his ability kept that hidden.

Glancing around, monsters littered the area, the same ones he and his team were fighting. He found his team, all up and moving around. Most conversed with some individuals he didn’t know, each looking dower and broken. It was then he noticed the arm.

His arm.

It sat a few steps away from him, the sand dyed with a trail of blood in a way that easily identified that he was the rightful owner. But… he…

Mason stared at his arm then his arm. He had both arms, but there, sitting casually on the sand, was another. His mind spun, pushing his hands to his belly. His armor was sundered, lacerated in a way metal bent into his skin… his unwounded, perfectly healthy skin.

He grunted, releasing the straps to his chest piece.

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“Hello?” the voice called again. “You with me here?”

Mason reacted in a way akin to a baby playing with toy blocks. He fidgeted with his armor, staring at the broken metal, at the blood that had dried across it. He had died. He remembered the color of his stomach.

A shadow filled his view, then a young man. The man crouched before him, locking eyes with Mason. A halo of misting purple hung over his head, and a quizzical look sat level across his lips. Eyes like an amethyst on fire, the man gave him a once over before sticking his hand out and poking him.

There was no build up. No gathering of mana or magic. No warning.

There was nothing, until there was everything.

Color, emotion, warmth, resolve. Calm in the Face of Danger fell apart like a broken glass chalice, only to be resurrected into shining royal crystal. Mason felt his veins kindle, his blood warming to the point that his muscles danced and jittered. Streaks of web-like mana grew from him, sticking to anywhere and everywhere.

The world coiled. The sky twisted. Mason saw the man’s violet flaming eyes briefly shift to mist, as if the young man was a beckoner of storms, of clouds, of renewal. A cycle, like rain falling from the sky only to evaporate away, that was Mason’s body. A closed circuit of life, of energy, of magic.

Who…?

The answer was obvious. This man was a L—

“I’m Leland, what’s your name?”

Mason paused, the shifting weight in his heart blindly coming to an end. The grit, the sand, all of it reappeared. Color returned, his ability ending. Expression, compassion, hatred, fear, everything came back, as well as suspicion and critical thinking.

“M-mason,” he uttered, his throat quivering.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Leland replied, cocking a crooked smile. “I know I have.”

“I thought— I thought—” The words died on Mason’s lips. He didn’t want to sound crazy now, did he?

“You thought you died?” Leland inferred. “Yeah, you were close. Luckily I got here in time. Even managed to get your arm back.” He pointed at the severed chunk of bone and flesh.

Mason forced himself to chuckle. “Yeah,” he whispered, “yeah, I thought I was dead…”

“Well, you’re not. And now that you’re awake, we’ve got to move. My familiar spotted a pack of monsters rushing toward us.”

Mason’s eyes went wide. “The Witches! They—”

Leland held up his hands, stopping him before peeling at his shirt to show off an odd chain necklace. It glowed a slight green. “I took care of them. Hiding in holes, huh? Strange. But yes, more are coming. You’d think they’d just leave, but I guess Witches are Witches for a reason.”

Patting him on the leg, Leland said, “Anyway, forget about that right now. You’ve got to help me finish packing up.” He nodded toward the others. “They’ll be ready soon as well.”

Mason looked over, finding the strangers and his teammates working together to, well, pack. They ripped out monster parts, shucked bones and fleshy bits, even skinned a few of the more soft deadly creatures. Anything of value was taken, even from the Witch’s hole in the sand.

“Where are the bodies—”

His question was answered for him. Leland was already standing beside them, eyeing them with a complicated expression.

“They don’t even have good gear,” he muttered to himself. “Why are they here?”

Mason’s eyes wandered, finding a body that did not fit with the rest. She wore gray and red armor, Palemarrow colors. Her head had been separated from her shoulders, blood and—

Mason threw up, stopping Leland’s whispers.

A beat passed. “Mia says to remind you not to drink on an empty stomach tonight.”

Begrudgingly Mason nodded, Mia was always talking to him like that— Wait. Mia was… Mia was dead. Her head separated from— He was on his feet before he realized it, his face crooked and rife with thumping veins.

“Mia is dead,” he meant the sentence to come out harsher than it actually did, but how could he? Her body was right there.

“Yeah,” was all Leland said.

The simple reply caused a rush of red and a ringing in Mason’s ears. Calm in the Face of Danger turned back on, muting everything that wasn’t important. “You are going to need to explain.”

They locked eyes, Leland looking away first. “I’m talking to her soul. I already told you I’ve seen a ghost. I was being literal.”

“Y-you what!?” Of all of the stupid replies Mason was expecting, that was not one of them.

“Think of me as having similar powers as a Legacy of Souls. I can talk to souls.” He paused a moment. “She says to stop ‘being troublesome’ and to ‘get with the program already.’”

Leland frowned, turning toward the open air and saying, “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think? He was knocked unconscious by a chimera and nearly died. Give him a moment to reorient.”

He paused again. “I’m not telling him that.”

Another pause. “Can you move on already? Somehow you are by far the most vulgar soul I’ve spoken to and one literally screamed at me until he faded away.”

“What—” Mason cut himself off when Leland started to laugh.

“That’s a good one. I might steal it. Don’t have to credit the dead!” His face grew somber, though his smile held. “Wish I could have known you, Mia, when you were alive. I’m sure we would have gotten along great. But you should move on now. The Lord of Souls is going to take great care of you, trust me.”

Mason just gawked.

Leland’s eyes slid over to him before snapping back to the open air. “I’ll tell him. Don’t worry. Just… let yourself fade away.”

He stared at open space for a few long seconds before averting his eyes to the sand and subtly wiping away a tear. “Doesn’t get any easier,” he muttered quietly to himself before taking a deep breath and facing Mason. “’Thanks for everything,’ those were Mia’s last words.”

Hot tears fell down Mason’s face.

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