[Open] The Mark of the Herald

[thewatchers]

Mark of the Herald Part I
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Despite certain disruptive events and ominous visions in the preceding month, August is seemingly still free of any problems.

That’s quick to change, however. Starting from the third of the month, strange, circular marks begin to appear on human students around the school - and, indeed, humans around the world. Those affected begin to feel incurably drowsy, something that no magical or mundane solution can seem to cure or relieve; eventually, they’ll fall asleep entirely, whether they want to or not, and enter a state of magical stasis. Not even nonhumans are immune, though whether they’re marked seems to be much more erratic.

Those who remain awake or are otherwise spared by the mark are free to do as they wish - the Academy won’t ask them to do more than keep themselves safe. But where each marked person falls in slumber, a portal will form; a strange tear in reality, offering glimpses of a surreal, nightmarish plane that differs vastly from individual to individual. One thing is certain; the cause of a victim’s seemingly endless sleep and these portals are linked somehow, and the only way to find out exactly how is to go through...and the only ones capable of doing so are those who are still awake.

This log can be used as a catch-all for event-related threads. The information for this event is here.

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[emergensirations]

[The spear drives in. It pierces through fabric and into Frankenstein flesh, a corpse made of corpses. The creature lets out a chorus of a scream akin to claws raking down walls. Its body slams glass, bringing forth blood on the other side.

It pants. And then it laughs. If not removed already, it reaches back and rips the spear out itself. And then, there in that spot it seems to glow. It is a golden orange light that sparkles into dust. It's familiar, though impossible to say why, even as that portion of the body dissolves to bone, stops, then reforms again good as new.

The monster's voices weave together in a tired but gleeful hiss.]

You're right. We were so close to memories of you. They were so close to such brilliant power. But they just couldn't hold on long enough for even the slightest merge. They lost. And the stupid brat chose a colorful pattern over what might actually be useful keep. If they were brighter, I would think they did it on purpose to thwart me by proxy.

But they're not. The question is whether or not you have any wisdom to you. Would you heed my advice if I gave it...?

[The girl in the far mirror rises unsteadly. There is fear in her face as she whispers a faint no. One of the creature's twisting tails rises and smashes the mirror, leaving nothing but a dark space.]

Well?

[spelleton]

[ His armor dissolves as the beast speaks, making him just himself again; his glance flicks over to the girl in the mirror just before it's smashed.

He steps close, within range, like he's ready to listen, and the spear seemingly dissolves. His expression is impassive.

(This patchwork creature makes the memories of those Sira has taken into themselves cower in fear. They are stronger and more powerful, seemingly wiser and more knowing than Sira themselves.

He doesn't know who or what this is. But he can guess, well enough, who this spectre might be a shadow of.

Not every parent is suited to the responsibility of a child. And daemons, just like any other creature, are born.) ]

I want nothing from someone like you.

[ Metal flashes like a mirror's shard as he drives the knife into the monster's face. As soon as his hand empties, another one is there; in a dream, the weapon most familiar to him is always ready and waiting in his grasp.

That might not kill it; he doesn't know the anatomy of this creature. But he'll always have more knives. ]

[emergensirations]

[The beast doesn't shriek. The knife cracks bone and all seven eyes are flared with pain and shock. The chorus of voices keen, then narrow down. This time the voices are of a smaller, more familiar set, one single note on top stronger than the others but young.]

You fool. They will die. You didn't have to bring everyone down with them.

[And then the keening is back, the snarling, and the creature is tearing at the knife, trying to back its way into the mirrorscape, removing itself from Ekkehardt's reach.

Or perhaps into the trap. Ekkehardt will have seconds, but only that, to smash the mirror or leave it be.]

[spelleton]

[ Has he made the right decision? It's not something he can take back, either way. He glances at the mirror, remembering what it holds, that kaleidoscope of memories. Remembers what this creature was doing, before he came.

Wounded creatures are dangerous to anything that approaches them. (He himself had been proof of that.)

He yanks the knife out, only to shatter the mirror it's trying to back into, the blade flying true. After that, he turns his head, to see what's become of the rest of this dream while he wasn't looking at it. He's wary of any movement from the enemy, but he's curious to see how this has affected everything else. ]

[emergensirations]

[The mirror shatters. The creature is gone. There seems to be nothing changed at all in the dream except for the fact that now all is deathly quiet.

Perhaps it wasn't the dream that the creature was referring to.

It's no matter now. There is still that path that Ekkehardt was directed to take, waiting where it was. Or he could continue elsewhere.]

[spelleton]

[ Sira is still here, somewhere, so onward he goes. He seems to have changed things just by exploring, so he strays back onto the path he was directed to.

He has plenty of time to think, at least, now that everything is quiet. He begins to hum, quietly, as a way of filling the silence.

All the songs he knows best are the ones that children love, or funereal. Perhaps not the best choice, either way, but he'll commit regardless. ]

[emergensirations]

[Off the walls and mirror panes, the songs echo. It takes time but eventually a hushed voice can be heard. The voice seems to be speaking only to itself. It breaks off conversation to hum along with the song that's heard, but once close enough, the voice is back to whispers.]

There he is...! He's coming...! Shh!

[And then, at last, Ekkehardt will find the source. Or rather, the sources.

They are perfect twins, two young girls in prim upper-class school attire. They look up at the very same moment, one girl inside the mirror, the other, outside it and settled on the path. Both girls extend a hand out to meet in the middle of them, where the glass divides.]

... Hello.

[They greet him together.]

You're looking for the exit?

[spelleton]

Well, I'm looking for someone, if that counts as the exit.

[ He looks between them, his voice and demeanor polite. ] They're asleep right now, and I was hoping to wake them. And I'd rather not intrude on their dreams more than I have already.

[ He might have stabbed something he shouldn't have but OH WELL. ]

[emergensirations]

[The girls look at one another. Their palms press harder on either side, like they want to curl their fingers around each other's but can't. They look back up.]

Sira doesn't want to leave. Not yet. They want to stay here. With...

[Both girls bear a trembling lip each. They both blink hard as they look away.

Then with their free hands, they point. The girl outside points in front, to the mirror before her. The girl inside points behind.]

The exit's here. Sira is too. But only one of us can go with you. And you can choose only one path.

Please choose.

[spelleton]

[ He looks between them with a slight frown. ]

Is there a reason why I can choose only one of you? [ He'll follow the rules of the dream - he doesn't think he has any other choice - but, still, he feels he has to ask. ]

[emergensirations]

[The girls break their synchronicity yet again when the girl outside turns a grieving, agonized look on the one in the mirror. The one in the mirror closes her eyes with a quiet resignation, then both look up once more.]

If you choose my exit, she cannot follow through the mirror.

[So says the one inside.]

If you choose to take mine, she can't leave her place.

[So says the one outside.]

A path ahead and a reflection back, but not both. It's not a choice of morality on your part. Neither of us will die. It's simply a choice.