The echoes of that terrible voice still hadn't faded from Nico's ears before even more unnatural thoughts were stitched into his head.
'I'm tired. I need rest. I need to sleep…'
And he would sleep; there was no other path, for he was going to listen to Lord Asterion's every word, conquer his Nightmare, and return back home alive — ripe for the picking.
It was that final, blissful thought that allowed him to release his stranglehold over consciousness. The Nightmare Spell collected his spirit, and instead of rest…
…Nico dreamt of a snowstorm.
Ancient and eternal, it rolled forward like the maw of an enraged deity. Harsh winds shrieked from every direction. There was no end to its cloud, and if there was land beneath the frost, it had been swallowed eons ago, the remaining surface of icy ground worn flat by the constant erosion and deposition of snow. Even the celestial heavens, with its sun, tapestry of stars, and blessed moon, failed to break the veil.
In the very center, where the temperature was marginally warmer and the blizzard subtly less harsh, several trails of footprints — distinctly human — marred the snow's uniform carpet.
Nico regained thought then, his imaginary eyes viewing the scene from a perspective far above anything else. He watched as a small procession of humans followed their own trail backwards. The snow rose from the ground, reuniting with the veil in the sky. Time unwound for an unspeakable amount of time, flowing backwards so fast that he could only make out two things — the humans constantly fought, and no matter how far they walked, the storm's eye always trailed after them.
In what felt like a second, a pack of monsters lunged out from the depths of the storm. They pounced on the humans. A bloody battle, the details of which were merely blurs of movement, was waged between the two kinds until the Nightmare Creatures were slain. Then the humans continued on, and it happened again. And again. Again, again, and again.
Blue blood spilled from festered wounds. The human procession lost countless numbers in exchange, but in the next blink they were whole — populous and reborn.
It seemed like a cycle that could go on forever.
Perhaps it had, but as Nico watched the conclusion of yet another massacre, he felt time slow, stop, and then resume its normal pace.
[Aspirant! Welcome to the Nightmare Spell! Prepare for your First Trial…]
'…'
His body wasn't breathing. His blood wasn't flowing, and his heart wasn't beating.
'Wh-What?'
Before he could panic, all those automated processes restarted at once. Nico wheezed, gulping for air like a fish out of water, and rolled onto his side. Something white-hot and burning kindled in his chest. He let out a silent scream as its power washed over him, pulsing in tandem with his strained heart. His limbs curled inward, and he bit down on his tongue until the searing sensation faded.
When it did, he sighed and drew himself up onto his knees. Through blurry vision he made out the long, thin shapes that constituted his arms, hands, and fingers. Then came the definition; he saw pale white skin, drawn taut over unhealthily bare bones.
His vision narrowed as the wisps of unfamiliar thought faded.
'I'll kill him… One day, I'll do it.'
The onset of his First Nightmare had dampened his emotions, but now that he was somehow able to think freely — away from that abomination's control — he felt such boundless fury. Teeth clenched and breaths shallow, he resisted the twist in his stomach and shakily rose to his feet.
'I can't get distracted. This is the First Nightmare. I've been waiting for this… waiting for forever.' He shivered. Only now did he realize his skin was completely bare, numb from the cold.
"Ah, you're cognizant…"
Nico's body snapped towards the foreign voice behind him. His hands clenched into fists, and his legs carried him a half-step back. He noticed then that there were strange sparks of blue light in the air — everywhere, lighting the surroundings despite the absent sun.
Through the blue shading he saw an old man. His hair was long, shaggy, and a light shade of brown. His eyes were a deep, sparkling blue. He was naked, and his skin was…
'Wait, naked?'
Nico did a double take, and he realized that, oddly, the man — if he could even be called that anymore — also had no sort of genitalia at all.
Suddenly, Nico didn't know what to do. Often times, people appeared in their Nightmares in positions they could easily assume. They could be a knight, where they were told exactly what to do. They could be a farmer, with a family and appropriate role. They could be anything… except naked, in a snowstorm, with strange anatomical changes that made no sense.
"Who are you?" Nico warily asked. Then, he dared to look down at himself — just to check — and winced.
The old stranger watched him skeptically, then attempted a warm smile. He reached his hand out. Nico noticed just how pale and thin it was, but shook it regardless.
"My name is Aldric," the stranger said, then tried to cup Nico's face — he stepped back before he could, and Aldric winced. "You are?"
The winds around them whistled quietly, carrying with them flakes of snow that struck Nico's skin. He was surprised to realize it wasn't that cold anymore. Looking into Aldric's eyes, he noticed — and somehow felt — that the old man was feeling desperate.
"I'm…" he dragged out the word, unsure if he should say his actual name or not. Would it be wise to say something unfamiliar? Or, would it be more suspicious if he said he didn't know his name at all? He'd already asked "who are you" without thinking, so perhaps—
Aldric released him and laughed miserably. He whispered, "You are Kalan. That is your name."
A moment passed in silence. Then, Aldric cleared his throat and announced:
"Everyone, gather around me! I'm sure you have many questions!"
Nico's eyes darted to the other people in the precession. They glanced towards Aldric's figure, then shuffled into a tight circle around him. There were about two dozen of them in total. Nico had only just noticed, but there were no shelters in sight. Everyone was just standing bare in the cold. As he peered between members, he noticed they all had far shorter hair than Aldric, and all shared the same strange genderless anatomy.
"First, please don't stress over forgetting your names; we all do. It's what happens when we die, and we die a lot." He paused, then shook his head. "Of course, it is not the true embrace of Shadow. We are Spirits of the World Tree. Death has no claim over our souls. When our physical bodies perish, the World Tree reconstructs them for us. The toll it takes — our memories — is a small price to pay."
Several of the surrounding people's eyes widened, and a few gasped. They must've died as well, and were only now being brought back — just like the person who Nico was inhabiting had been.
Aldric gestured to the barren landscape around them.
"This: This here is our prison, and our trial. Like all other creatures, we must reach the end of the blizzard, escaping its depths and returning to the shade of the World Tree. The cold, the Corrupted, the Noble Beasts… They will all assault us, for they hunger as we do.
And there is no hunger worse than being separated from our bountiful god."
Nico felt a suspicion form in his mind as to what this World Tree was. If he was right, it was the Heart God, who presided over souls, emotions, memories, growth, and hunger. That thought reignited his anger. A being who could control emotions… it sounded just like that man who called himself his father. What a despicable soul. It was so vile — the thought of simply forcing someone to be your willing slave.
"Kalan… I see you are very intuitive."
Nico snapped out of his thoughts. Most of the others had separated, and were talking in pairs. Aldric remained with him, his gaze worried.
"What do you mean?"
Aldric sighed.
"I can feel that you are much less lost than the rest. In fact, I can sense your clarity and anger. Why… why are you angry, brother?"
Nico's eyes widened.
"We are brothers?"
Aldric's shoulders sagged, but he nodded.
"…Yes, we are. In fact, neither of us had perished since the very beginning of our banishment. We had been following the storm for so long…" His eyes turned glassy, as if looking at something that Nico could not see. "But, in the end, it seems I couldn't save you. You have forgotten, just like the rest."
He clenched his fists.
"There is too much for me to tell you, but, first, you must remember your gift — the ability to sense emotions. Close your eyes. Search your soul. It will reveal itself."
Nico nodded tentatively, then focused, remembering that carriers of the Spell had their own sort of status.
'Status? Runes?'
Hundreds of glowing symbols appeared in his vision. Nico watched them form, amazed, then shook out of his daze and read down the list.
Name: Nico.
True Name: —
Rank: Aspirant.
Soul Core: Dormant.
Memories: —
Echoes: —
Attributes: [Empath], [Spirit].
Aspect: [Banished Disciple].
Aspect Description: [As a disciple banished from the grace of the World Tree, your last trial remains in this storm. All abilities have been stripped from your kind.]
Nico frowned, then focused on his Attributes instead.
[Empath] Attribute Description: [Winter's storm bestows no blessings, but for you, Blessed of the Heart, one. Shaped by endless cold, emotions call to you, yearning to be heard; to be understood.]
'This must be the ability Aldric was talking about.'
He focused with the thought in mind, and a veil in his head parted. A whole new sense opened up. Ethereal voices whispered like sirens, each detailing the meaning of its master's thoughts.
'T-Too much.'
The noise was deafening. Everyone here felt varying shades of despair, loss, and confusion. Without much effort, he forced everything to quiet, but couldn't quite manage to turn off the ability entirely.
'I'll… use it as needed.'
With that out of the way, Nico cracked one eye open just to make sure Aldric was still waiting, then focused on his second Attribute.
[Spirit] Attribute Description: [In the divine crucible, nothing becomes something, and all becomes one. The World Tree has claimed your spirit, and with it, your fate.]
'Fate, huh.'
The idea of it was dreadful. Nico did not know if such a force existed in the realm of gods, but if it did, that only made him fear it more. Besides that, this Attribute was probably what would keep him — and everyone else here — from truly dying.
"Are you done, Kal?"
Nico opened his eyes once more. He took a deep breath, frigid air filling his lungs.
He nodded resolutely.
Aldric looked into the distance — towards where the wind blew. He released another weary sigh.
"Then let us go. The Reborn are—" he cut himself off, and then his eyes drooped. It felt like a practiced sentence, and one that he had told his brother several times before. Only, now, Nico was one of the Reborn, and Kalan was forever lost to him.
Finally, he gritted out, "It is time to return to the grace of the World Tree."