Pandora unchained 2 a cu.., p.11
Pandora Unchained 2: A Cultivation Progression Fantasy, page 11
“You know those things cause mutations, right?” said Daphne, nodding to the cigarette she lit up on the stick-like holder. “It’s been scientifically proven, and there are loads of studies supporting an outright banning of such narcotics.”
Astley ignored Daphne and lit up a cigarette before taking a long puff. For a Bone-Forging cultivator and a one-star Hero, she was on the younger end of things. Probably only two or three years older than them at most.
“We only live once,” Astley finally said to Daphne. “And besides, these things are the fashion in Delphi, along with slim ball gowns and high heels. Even high-ranking mages smoke from time to time. I therefore doubt that any attempts to impose a ban will manage to pull through. How’s that for logic, young lady?”
“Let’s not get back into circular arguments,” said Stephan. “You’re also not much older than we are, Astley, so don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“I just defended myself against your teammate’s aggression,” said Astley. “Now, where were we? You said you had questions for me, Archer? And do you have official mission papers I can review?”
“Of course,” said Stephan, taking out the stamped papers from Jigolath Ridge. “I take it everything is in order?”
“It is,” said Astley. “Ask your questions.”
“Please call me Gareth, Miss Chaser,” said Gareth, taking out his notebook. “Perhaps you can start by introducing yourself and briefing me on this order my companions spoke of?”
“Astley Chaser,” said Astley. “From Chesterville, a large city roughly two weeks north of here. My parents are Geoffrey and Noella Chaser. I am a graduate of the Chesterville College of Art and Literature, which I attended in lieu of traditional career shadowing between the ages of thirteen and seventeen.
“As for the order Miss Philips mentioned, it’s a somewhat reclusive organization called the Order of Phantasia. We are a scholarly order that seeks to discover ancient truths by investigating historical vestiges. We use ritualistic magics to cross-examine key historical witnesses and build a more reliable historical account.”
Gareth raised an eyebrow. “Can someone translate for me?”
“They’re archaeologists and grave robbers,” said Daphne. “As for the ritual magic she speaks of, it’s mostly esoteric forms of divination and spirit channeling.”
“And by spirit channeling, you mean…” said Gareth.
“I summon the soul of the deceased from the River Styx,” answered Astley. “I ask them questions until the ritual runs its course.”
“That’s… sort of creepy,” said Lawrence.
“Says the one who peeps on ladies in his spare time,” said Sorin. “Pardon me for interjecting, Miss Chaser, but I sensed a great deal of corruption in that book of yours. But when I examine you, I sense no such traces of corruption. Could you please explain this?”
“I was also wondering about this,” said Gareth. “It might be a good idea to get it out of the way before we continue with a different line of questioning.”
“This old thing?” said Astley, taking the book in question out of her belt pouch. “This is my grimoire. The order offers many paths to their members, which many would see as non-conventional. My path is that of the Myth Binder, which functions in similar ways to summoners. Instead of striking bargains with extradimensional entities, I bind creatures I’ve defeated to my grimoire and use them in battle until they eventually succumb.
“In the rare cases, I can also feed it records of mythical entities, or better yet, face them in battle. By producing an image of these Myths, I can bind them to my grimoire and make use of them in various ways. Does that answer your question, Gareth?”
“It does,” said Gareth. “Is there any risk of these creatures breaking free?”
“There is no risk at all,” said Astley. “They are bound to my grimoire, which is in turn bound to my soul. Should I perish in battle, any bound entities, be they in their summoned forms or bound forms, will lose their link to this world and will quickly fade from existence.”
“Does that align with what you two know?” asked Gareth. Both nodded their heads in confirmation. “Very good. That leads us to my next question. What have you been doing here? How long have you been here? What do you hope to accomplish?”
“I’ve been here for around a month,” said Astley. “In that time, I’ve mostly looked through history books and taken notes about local traditions. I’ve also investigated the remains of old buildings; the scope of my investigation includes the extensive cave network in the Chelsea Mines.
“I’m sure you’ve heard of bright flashes of light people have seen coming out of abandoned mine shafts. Those lights are given off by certain investigation rituals I’ve been carrying out. As for what I hope to accomplish here, it’s simple: I’m looking for source material to support a few papers I intend to write in collaboration with my supervisor at the college.”
“The topic?” asked Gareth.
“Pandora’s Historical Amnesia and Culture Dissonance,” answered Astley. “We’ll be approaching the subject from an anthropological perspective. We’ll evaluate the cultures in isolated locations and compare them to the more homogeneous human settlements, such as Olympia, the Twelve Cities, and any other locations with major temples to Hope.”
Daphne groaned. “Great. You’re one of those.”
Astley took a long puff from her cigarette before responding. “I find your prejudice both hurtful and childish, Miss Philips. Though I suppose I can’t expect any better, given your cultural conditioning.”
“Once again, let’s tone things down,” said Stephan. “I’m talking to you, Daphne. And for the rest of us, can you please translate what you said into non-academic terms?”
“A non-academic explanation…” muttered Astley. “All right, let me put it this way. You are all aware of the ancient gods, yes?”
“Naturally,” said Stephan.
“And you are all aware that their temples have a certain flare, a certain architecture,” continued Astley. “The language used in those temples is different than the language we use now. The names used at the time are also very different from our current naming conventions.”
“I don’t follow you, but go on,” said Stephan.
Astley sighed as she tried to rephrase things. Her actions reminded Sorin of how an adult might behave when trying to explain common sense to a child. “Cultures don’t change quickly, Mr. York,” said Astley. “They are also very dependent on geography. This has been noted time and time again. Yet the major human settlements on Pandora seem to all share the same culture, the same language, and the same naming conventions, despite the fact that these locations used to have their own distinct cultures and traditions during the time of the gods.”
“That’s because the gods are dead, obviously,” said Daphne. “With the powers that maintained social order at the time gone, humanity changed. The many civil wars after the fall of the gods resulted in a homogenous culture. The subject’s been studied to death.”
“No, it’s been ignored to death,” countered Astley. “And my supervisor and I are convinced that there is a more logical answer for this abrupt transition, as well as the huge lack of historical documents from the Divine Era.”
“Libraries were burned down!” exclaimed Daphne.
“But was it accidental or on purpose?” Astley shot back.
“I think we’ve gone completely off-topic,” said Gareth, finally closing his notebook. “But you gave me what I asked for. You’re a scholar, and you’re here to investigate. The culture here is strange, and that’s why you’re here. Is that correct?”
“Indeed,” said Astley.
“Then that concludes my interrogation,” said Gareth. “Reciprocation is polite. Do you have any questions for us?”
“Not really,” said Astley. “Though I imagine you’ll all be staying for the Winter Vigil? It’s the last thing I wanted to see before leaving.”
“That’s our intention,” said Gareth. “Though the more I talk to people, the less this seems like corruption is behind this. These people seem like they’ve been hoodwinked for generations.”
“Worship of the Dark Lady first appeared in this area sixty-three years ago,” said Astley in agreement. “You can find confirmation in the library in a book called Chelsea: A History. There are also a few elders in the village that remember when it all started. I can give you a copy of their interview transcript if you like.”
Gareth raised an eyebrow. “That’s awfully generous of you.”
“Think of it as an offer to cooperate,” said Astley. “It’s clear that I’m no longer welcome here, so I’ll need support if I’m to witness the Winter Vigil.”
Gareth exchanged a look with Stephan, who nodded. “We can discuss the details tomorrow. I’m sure having someone with your unique skillset around will be a benefit.” He ignored Daphne’s snort and held out his hand. “To a fruitful collaboration.”
16
SOUL CHANNELING
The air smelled of blood and smoke, not a surprise given that Sorin and his companions were currently digging through the smoking remains of the Chester Family farm. Black ashes and splintered wood were scattered across a snow-covered field trampled by tens of thousands of heavy footprints that same morning.
“This is too organized for a random attack,” said Gareth as he pulled up a wooden board, revealing a smashed-up picture frame and a broken-down chair. “And far too intelligent for a two-star demon to pull off.”
“I can’t believe it’s us who are digging through here instead of the local villagers,” said Sorin, pushing a section of the wall away to reveal a mangled corpse. “This looks like it might be Mrs. Chester’s corpse. With the kids, that makes five. Can someone give me a hand?”
“I think I’ll hang back here,” said Lawrence, shying away.
“I’ll help you with that,” said Gareth. “Stephan, can you lift that beam, pinning her legs down?”
“Not a problem,” said Stephan. He walked up to the large piece of carved wood and hefted it up despite its immense weight, while Sorin and Gareth retrieved the mostly intact corpse and brought it out next to the remains they’d discovered out on the blood-covered field.
“The cause of death is likely a combination of trauma from crush injuries and asphyxiation from smoke inhalation,” said Sorin as he inspected her body with mana. “Instead of choosing to flee like Mr. Chester and the children, she remained in the house. The fire was probably her doing.
“In the end, the house collapsed before it could properly catch fire. The bruising on her body indicates that she was still alive when it came down to her. A terrible way to die, though not as terrible as what happened to her husband and children.”
Only an arm and half a torso remained of Mr. Chester. As for the children, both their legs and arms had been bitten off. It was clear that whoever did this meant to send a message. “Only a three-star demon would be intelligent enough,” said Stephan, shaking his head. “Either that or a two-star humanoid demon. A Myth.”
He shook his head as he looked toward the cultivators standing well outside the farm. They were there to keep an eye on them but hadn’t so much as lifted a finger to assist them in digging through the rubble. It was like, in their eyes, the Chesters deserved what happened to them and that indicating anything contrary to this would incur further disasters.
“Five demons and five humans,” said Sorin. “A coincidence?”
“It’s difficult to say,” said Gareth. “But I agree with Stephan. This isn’t something normal demons are capable of. Astley, do you have anything to add?”
“No,” said Astley, doing her best to keep a straight face. “But perhaps we could discover clues if you’d allow me to summon their souls from the afterlife.”
“Are you serious?” scolded Daphne. “After all the trouble you caused, you’re going to further desecrate their bodies?”
“It’s not desecration when the only gods that ever opposed such a practice are long dead,” countered Astley. “Further, they’re already dead, while five hundred or so villagers still live. Even assuming summoning their souls would be a great disservice to them, I argue that protecting the living comes first and foremost.”
“You’re not seriously considering this, are you, Stephan?” asked Daphne.
“Honestly? Yes,” said Stephan. “But it’s Gareth’s call to make.”
The archer looked long and hard at the corpses before turning to Astley and nodding. “Do you need anything from us or the village?”
“No,” said Astley. “I carry everything needed in my Hero Medal.”
Astley proceeded to unpack a small altar that appeared to be a miniature version of the ones found in temples to Hope. She proceeded to light three candles on the altar before talking up to the mangled corpses and placing coins on their eyes, or, in the case of Mr. Chester, where his eyes would have been.
She then took out a rune-covered knife and slashed the air in four directions before calling out in a steady and authoritative voice, “I!
“Summon in my name!
“A spirit recently deceased!
“A disincarnate soul forever trapped in the river of the dead!
“The remnant consciousness of Frederick Samuel Chester!”
A strange magical signature rippled out from the ritual circle, where mana crystals had been laid out. A wind brushed past the crystals and reduced them to dust.
Then, as silent as the wind had been, a spiritual fluctuation reeking of death and decay emerged from the air behind the altar. It bore an image that might have resembled the corpse on the ground had it not been so badly mangled.
“You called, summoner?” said the spirit in an eerie voice.
“I have questions to ask,” said Astley.
“And I shall answer,” replied the spirit in turn.
“What happened here before the demons attacked?” asked Astley. “What happened during the attack?”
The spirit looked from her to the five corpses on the ground before answering. “We were preparing for the Winter Vigil by roasting chestnuts that were to be offered to the Dark Lady. It is a meager offering, but it is the only thing we have to offer.
“Then demons came. They attacked us. My wife grew frantic while I led the children out into the pasture. Better a quick death at the claws and teeth of those demons than a death by burning or trampling.”
“Did you expect the attack?” asked Aster.
“Of course I did,” answered the spirit. “There were whispers on the wind of a grave offense. Someone had to pay the price, and in the end, it is we who were chosen.”
“Who chose you?” Astley asked the spirit. “A human, a demon, or something else?” The spirit merely looked at her for a few seconds before fading out of existence.
“What happened?” asked Gareth.
“The spirit suddenly turned uncooperative,” said Astley. “Normally, they have no agency in the afterlife. Regardless of their motives, they should answer questions when asked. But in this case, there seems to be a strange energy interfering with the essence of the ritual.”
“That’s what happens when you rely on poorly understood witchcraft,” said Daphne.
“Then why don’t you come down and help me?” asked Astley. “Oh, wait. You’re too good for that, aren’t you? A pity. A mage lending a hand would reinforce the ritual and improve the quality of any answers we get. After all, a soul can only be summoned once.”
Daphne’s eye twitched. “Fine. I’ll play along. But no changing any of the words in the ritual, save their names and ours, or any of the actions. We’ll pay the same price and burn the same candles.”
“Agreed,” said Astley. “Is that acceptable, Stephan?”
“If Daphne wants to contribute, then by all means,” said Stephan. “Would Sorin be of assistance?”
“Not a chance,” answered Sorin. “I have no idea what’s going on here. I also have the distinct feeling that my participation might result in adverse effects.” He was naturally referring to the corruption in his blood and mana.
A few minutes later, it was Mrs. Chester who was summoned. “What happened here before the demons attacked?” asked Astley.
“We were preparing for the winter vigil,” said Mrs. Chester. “We were roasting chestnuts for our offering, as we do every year.”
“Was there anything different about your preparations this year?” asked Daphne before Astley could continue. The spirit frowned before shaking her head. “There was nothing different this year compared to previous years. We have no regrets. Our souls will return to the night’s embrace.”
Then, as Mr. Chester’s spirit had, her spirit faded. “Interference again?” asked Gareth.
“Indeed,” said Astley. “Moreover, I feel like these answers were forced instead of natural. As though the spirits expected to be questioned. That is not normal behavior.” She hesitated. “I think… I think we’ll need to ask the children. Though the odds of succeeding are much lower, as human spirituality doesn’t solidify until thirteen years of age.”
“Statistically, we’re likely to succeed on one of them,” said Daphne.
Astley raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you know so much about the ritual.”
“Not approving and not understanding it as a whole doesn’t mean I’m not well-read,” answered Daphne. “I think it’s worth a try.”
“We’ve got nothing to lose,” said Stephan. “Though I suggest you hurry. One of the cultivators watching us went back to town to report. I expect company any minute now.”
“Then we’ll make it quick,” said Astley.
“We!
“Summon in our name!
“A spirit recently deceased!
“A disincarnate soul forever trapped in the river of the dead!
“The remnant consciousness of Ashley Agnes Chester!”
There was no response from the altar, so they moved on to the second body.
