Chapter eight: beginning
Darkness.
Not the gentle darkness that had sheltered me before.
This darkness was cold.
Weightless.
Empty.
Then—
A heartbeat.
Small. Frantic.
Not mine.
Something pulled at my consciousness.
My awareness lurched forward, dragged through the void by an unseen force. Shapes slowly emerged beneath me: a windowless chamber drained of color, its stone walls gray beneath the weak flame of a solitary lamp.
Strange instruments lay arranged across a nearby desk.
Hooks.
Needles.
Thin blades polished until they caught the trembling light.
And suspended in the center of the room—
A child.
A newborn hung from the ceiling, wrapped from the neck down in layers of white bindings. The cords held its tiny body upright like butchered meat displayed from a hook. Paper talismans covered the restraints, each marked with symbols that shifted faintly beneath the dim light.
For a moment, I merely stared.
Then one of the child's fingers twitched.
I felt it.
The realization came slowly.
Horribly.
That was not another child.
That was me.
Is this the real world?
The room offered no answer.
It looked real enough. I could see dust floating above the lamp. Dark stains had seeped between the stones beneath the hanging body. The air appeared heavy, almost diseased.
But appearances had deceived me before.
This could be another false world.
Another layer of Hell.
Perhaps I had never escaped at all. Perhaps I was truly dead, and this chamber was merely a different form of the afterlife—one designed to let hope return before crushing it again.
There was no way to know.
Not yet.
I pushed the questions aside and reached toward the infant body.
The moment my consciousness touched it, something seized me.
The room stretched.
The bindings rushed closer.
Then my mind was forced through flesh that did not yet recognize me.
For one disorienting instant, I existed in two places at once: watching the infant from above while feeling its weak heart hammer inside my chest.
Then the distance between us collapsed.
I became the child.
My thoughts clouded immediately. The body's undeveloped senses pressed against my mind in broken fragments—faint pressure, distant sound, shapeless discomfort. I could not tell where my consciousness ended and the infant's instincts began.
I closed my eyes.
Or perhaps they had never opened.
I steadied the shallow rhythm of my breathing and reached inward, searching for the silence I had left behind.
For the darkness.
For something familiar.
When I opened my eyes again—
Regret washed over me.
The darkness had been kinder.
The world assaulted me all at once.
Light carved itself into my skull. Every sound became a blade scraping against exposed thought. The stale air clawed into my newborn lungs, carrying the stench of old blood, antiseptic herbs, and a sharp metallic odor I did not recognize.
My heart stumbled inside my chest.
Somewhere nearby... metal struck metal.
And beneath it—
I heard the talismans begin to hum.
I should have remained in the void.
My body convulsed involuntarily. A violent seizure tore through me with such force that it could have fractured the bones of an ordinary infant. Every muscle contracted beyond its limits, twisting my tiny frame against invisible restraints.
I was immobilized.
No…
I was forbidden from moving.
White bindings cocooned my body from the neck down. Now trapped inside the body, I understood how tightly the bindings held me. Each cord was thinner than silk and harder than forged steel. Countless talismans had been stitched into the cords, each adorned with symbols that seemed to writhe whenever I gazed directly at them.
A restraint formation.
Whoever had placed me here was not attempting to protect a child. They were imprisoning something—me.
The instant my body resisted the bindings, the talismans awakened. The symbols flared with blinding white light, and a sound like splitting heaven echoed through the room. Then, the electricity surged through me. It did not strike me; it invaded me.
The current raced beneath my skin, threading itself through nerves, muscles, and bones, as if searching every inch of my body for something to destroy. Every heartbeat became another explosion of agony.
My back arched as far as the restraints permitted, and the cords bit deeper into my flesh. I heard tiny cracks, the sound of bones, mine. Any sane person would have screamed. I couldn't.
The first surge stole my breath.
The current seized my jaw before I could even open my mouth. My tongue scraped helplessly against torn gums until the taste of blood filled my mouth.
The second stole my thoughts.
Again, another surge. Every muscle in my body screamed in terror and locked up instantly. It felt as though invisible hooks had been driven beneath my skin, pulling in opposite directions until my flesh threatened to split apart. Heat flooded my veins. No, heat wasn't the right word. It was as though molten iron had replaced my blood.
This is different from Hell. The energy being released isn't enough to kill me.
My thoughts were interrupted.
My stomach convulsed violently, and my tiny ribs groaned beneath the strain. Something warm trickled from my nose before evaporating against my burning skin. The smell reached me a heartbeat later—burning flesh, my flesh. How nostalgic. Hell had smelled much the same. The thought almost made me laugh.
Almost.
By the third, I no longer knew whether I was screaming or only remembering what screaming felt like.
White light consumed the room. Whether my eyes were open or closed made no difference anymore. Every pulse erased reality itself, replacing it with endless brilliance and unbearable pain.
My lungs refused to expand, and I tried to inhale, but nothing happened. The electricity decided when I breathed, and the bindings decided whether I moved. This body… it wasn't mine. It was merely the prison I had been reborn into.
Is this something every baby must endure in this world? How cruel.
Another surge ripped through me, and my vision burst into countless black spots dancing within the sea of white. I felt blood vessels rupture inside my eyes, and warm blood pooled beneath my eyelids, yet the relentless flashes refused to fade. Interesting. Even blindness couldn't hide the light. I remembered demons in Hell who delighted in torment.
They would peel souls apart piece by piece, their laughter echoing as eternity stretched before them. Compared to them, whoever had built these restraints was an artist. Every pulse was meticulously measured, enough to break me but never enough to kill me. They wanted me conscious. They wanted fear to break me. Hell had already consumed that part of me, replacing panic with a curiosity that refused to die.
I need to focus my energy!
I attempted to gather my focus before the next surge hit.
Unfortunately, I wasn't fast enough.
The white bindings tightened with every convulsion, refusing to grant even the smallest movement. My tiny body strained against them, but each desperate attempt only awakened another pulse. The talismans carved into the cords ignited one after another, bathing the room in a cold white glow.
It was curiosity that kept me conscious.
Who was I important enough to imprison before I could even crawl? The thought had barely formed before another pulse shattered it, tearing something deep within me. I felt it—not skin or muscle, but something spiritual.
The pain vanished not because it had ended, but because my mind could no longer comprehend it. A hollow vibration replaced the agony, humming through every bone in my body. It was worse than the pain. Pain reminded me of my existence.
This… this made me wonder if I had already died again.
Through the pain, I realized that I had not completely merged with this body, or perhaps my soul was being forced out.
I'm failing before I even start…
There was no room left for fear.
No room left for thought.
Only the next pulse...
and the certainty that it was coming.
My thoughts faded. The crackling of the talismans grew distant, the white light dimmed, and darkness reached out once more. This time, I welcomed it.
***
"So this is the Empire's secret base?"
The massive man let out a disappointed grunt as he stared at the dilapidated shack before him. Its weathered roof sagged beneath decades of neglect, while warped wooden walls leaned as though they had long since surrendered to time. Surrounded by an endless marsh, the lonely structure looked more like an abandoned fisherman's hut than the entrance to one of the Empire's greatest secrets.
He jabbed a thick finger toward it.
"They're really hiding it... here?"
With a snort, Sebastian stepped off the ancient cobblestone path.
The swamp immediately claimed him.
His boot sank almost to the ankle with a sickening schlop. The green sludge wasn't ordinary mud. It clung to the leather like living mucus, stretching into long, sticky strands before snapping back against his leg.
"...Ugh."
He frowned, yanking his foot free with enough force to send a spray of slime across his trousers.
The second step was worse.
Each stride became a battle against the marsh itself. The sludge resisted every movement, refusing to release him without a struggle, as though countless unseen hands lurked beneath the surface, pulling him deeper with every step.
"I mean, look at this place, Hans!"
Sebastian threw his arms into the air, nearly losing his balance.
"No self-respecting noble would willingly come somewhere this disgusting."
The word noble dripped with enough contempt to sour the air itself.
Another step.
Another splash.
A thick glob of green slime slapped directly across his face.
"...Seriously?"
Grimacing, he scraped at it with the back of his hand.
The slime only spread farther.
It clung stubbornly to his skin, stretching between his fingers in sticky threads before snapping back into place, refusing to let go like a spider's web wrapped around trapped prey.
Behind him...
Hans never moved.
Despite standing nearly half a head shorter than Sebastian, there was something undeniably heavier about his presence. He remained atop the weathered stone platform with his hands folded behind his back, his expression unreadable.
Sharp gray eyes drifted across the marsh.
Not once did they linger on the shack.
He was studying the swamp.
Listening.
Watching.
Waiting.
A faint ripple disturbed the stagnant surface.
Then another.
Hans' gaze narrowed.
"Sebastian."
Too late.
The swamp erupted.
A deafening roar shattered the silence as an enormous mass exploded from beneath the sludge. Rotten water rained across the marsh while a grotesque beast—well over six meters tall—dragged its swollen body into the open. Thick strands of green mucus poured from its hide, and countless milky-white eyes rolled wildly beneath layers of scarred flesh. Its ribs jutted through paper-thin skin, giving it the appearance of something that had been starving for years.
The creature inhaled sharply.
The sound alone carried the desperation of a predator driven beyond hunger into madness.
Sebastian's face lit up.
"Finally!"
The frustration vanished from his expression, replaced by the grin of a man who had been hoping for exactly this.
He planted one foot forward, the swamp exploding beneath the force.
"Hans! Get me unstuck first!"
His massive fist tightened until the surrounding air trembled.
"I'll crush this ugly bastard in one punch!"
Hans sighed.
"...No."
Sebastian blinked.
"No?"
What is he scheming this time?
"It can still walk."
Hans stepped from the platform with measured precision, stopping just short of the creature's reach.
"If it's this emaciated..."
A pale barrier unfolded around the two men like sheets of transparent crystal.
"...then it has likely spent years wandering these tunnels."
His eyes remained fixed on the monster.
"It knows the way."
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"So instead of killing it..."
"...we'll let it guide us."