The Obsidian Blade

Chapter 10: Voices of The Dark

S's fingers trembled as they stroked the spines of the large, dusty volumes. Some of the volumes had no titles engraved into the soft leather spines, but others had the simple word Subconscious painted into them. At last! This can't be happening... all of these answers in one place! Can this really be true...?

I surprisingly hesitantly take the first volume off the shelf and open it to the first page. I frown over the tiny, old-fashioned script and take out my flint and steel to light the once-white candles that lay in clusters on the desk. However, before I can even begin to strike a flame the candles spurt to life of their own accord. I shudder but open the book's yellowed pages against my better judgment.

There is no table of contents, so I open the first chapter... then the next, and the next. Eventually, a pile of finished entrees, journals, and guides containing dire warnings and endless information on entering the subconscious lay piled up on the desk. I enter the final section. And there it is, the book falls open onto an ancient page that starts with the sentence beware the voice of the subconscious. A thrill of terror courses through my veins as I continue,

This voice, despite being subconscious, is fully conscious and gains power with each vision. These visions are the imprints of warps that bring people from world to world under the subconscious domain. Often if the void is unstable, or a product of intense emotional or physical turmoil, there can be holes in the material of the void. These holes, as the author has allocated a conclusion to, can allow the subconscious voice, or the voice of the subconscious easier passage into the victim's mind.

Once inside, it will almost always be accompanied by visions, and with each vision, it will gain more voice and more power and manipulation over the recipient of the voice. While the voice dwells in the person, by the end of the possession process, the victim will be able, with some struggle, to pass into a realm between reality and imagination... subreality. The passage ended in a trail of ink, and I desperately scan the book from start to end, along with all the other books for another mention of a subconscious voice, and the possession. Not a single sentence. Until...

I take one final look through the large, dusty volume, my only evidence of a voice. The only thing that makes me sure I'm not insane, and there is something dark, evil, and subconscious about my visions. As I reach the last page and feel my right hand on the back of its leather cover, I have the sudden urge to do something rather odd.

I run my fingers up and down the back of the leather cover with an odd expression. Then, I take out my flint and steel... and set the book aflame. As the leather and paper deteriorates in my hand, I feel my expression remain blank and unfeeling. What did I just do? But as I feel my hand throwing the book onto the table, I manage to wrench something from the flames of the back of the leather book cover.

The charred but just barely readable paper was carefully concealed in between two films of leather and then sewed into the book. Suddenly I feel blank again. My head is wracked with pain and terror. What's going on!? But my body is reaching for my flint and steel again, and this time it's moving towards the stacks of books. Then the shelves... then the desk. And my hand goes into my pocket and takes out the precious paper, ready to throw it into the bonfire. Snap!

I'm finished. I will not let whatever this is consume me. It takes all my energy and strength to slowly, but surely pull the paper back again from the flames, and plunge it into the depths of my inventory. Then, I run. Back through the passage, pulling the lever behind me, through the thousands of passages and rooms of the library, down the main hallways, each step heaving effort from my body. Then, I collapse to the ground, in a dead flashback.

S, you've disobeyed me... the voice is hollow and clear. I'm back in Thaytos. I'm ten years old, and Desid and I are riding in minecarts to Ayolum. We share the small silver cart, and my hair blows behind me. The sunrise is glorious. We rarely see it, for the mobs still prowl about. But behind the protective glass screens that surround the multiple railroad tracks, I feel I can see anything. Be anything.

That's when the glass shatters, and the railroads flood. And Desid stands there holding an empty water bucket and TNT. "S, run, okay!" he yells. I'm frozen only for a second, but then I run. I ran though I never had before. Then Desid is there again, and bubbles flood my field of vision. I don't remember this. Did he give me a potion of forgetfulness? Why did he...?

I'm laying still on the ground. Then my vision clouds again, but not with bubbles. With tears. What's going on? Do my flashbacks reach beyond magic, beyond whatever Desid used on me? Then comes the rage. But I won't go into detail on that. It's rather embarrassing. Anyhow, I take out one of my spare beds and place it on the library floor, for by now it's surely night.

But I'm not worried anymore. I don't think the shakket knows this place exists. And even if the mayor did notice the dirt, if he came up here to investigate he wouldn't find anything. This place only shows itself to those who are looking for it. I collapse onto the bed, exhausted and feeling burdened beyond my experience. I take out the crumpled paper and begin to read the faded text.

My name is Shadow. When I was about twelve I entered the subconscious thinking it could allow me to change the past and bring back Rei, my older sister, who died in our war. Instead I was left with visions and a haunting voice which refused to leave me... it started out as just flashbacks, then occasional dire warnings, then its whispers invaded my everyday thoughts. Soon my visions were not my own, but the voice's manipulations, which I learned at my cost.

When I finally realized it was the subconscious's conscience speaking, I used all manner of ways to try to get rid of it, but it only grew stronger. I began to enter the subreality just after my body became not my own. I would feel blank, and would do things with no reason. For the subconscious's reasons. Today marks the day before the full possession when I shall enter the subconscious for the last time. Then I will be fully sacrificed so that the subconscious may grow stronger...

It is too late for me, but for those who still have time I shall leave my findings, know that the only thing that can save you is the Sword of Grief, hidden beneath the ruins of the world once mirrored. The closest place I can get you is the village of Spots. From there let your search begin. Beware the subconscious, for it will stop you at all costs.

If you have friends, or helpers they will be able to help you fight against the spells of blankness, and keep your mind less warped, especially if they have known you since you were young. The older the people the better. Once you have found whatever it is and have a part of it with you must enter the final possession, where I think I will soon hear its voice in clarity for the first and last time. Good luck, and remember your victory will come at a cost.

All I can think is that I am going to be possessed. And even if I somehow decrypt a creepy warning-riddle thing there will still be an unknown cost. Well this is great. Maybe I can kill myself before I get all possessed and blah. Denial is for the weak. Terror strikes me. I'm onto the next stage! Real or not I have to do something, or there won't be any me left to do anything! I stop, sigh and my mind clears, oddly. I have to find the Sword of Grief. Or... or die trying.

Author's Note

Okay... just one day late! C'mon, every author does it - but still super duper sorry!

Broke the fourth wall again.

Over 60 views, wow! Thanks, God! Thank you everybody!

Just Be!