Garden Of The Abyss

"...Well, might as well check it out, right?..." He looked at her.

"Right…"

Slowly, he lifted the veil of tattered, black cloth from the thick tome, uncovering the even more peculiar covering that laid beneath.

Etched onto its cover, a sable, wood design bore some resemblance to a shrouded maiden, though it was difficult to tell with how aged it clearly was.

The moment his fingertips grazed the unveiled cover of the seemingly ancient book, a cold, tangible chill ran through his body.

...What is this feeling? It's like there was a slumbering mana residing within it--the moment I touched it, it connected with my aura…? I can taste it in my mouth; it's damp, salty...and there's a layer of horror to it. What the hell is this? He thought.

--It was something only visible to him, as if time itself stagnated while an air of darkness surrounded him in that still moment. The essence of that terrifying darkness interlaced itself with him, sliding into his pores, beneath his skin, and caressing his heart with its sable reach.

Embedded into him, a seed rested.

[...Reunited at last, betrothed of depravity. The geass is formed…]

It wasn't something he heard, but the meaning was understood as if the words were already ingrained into his soul.

I don't understand...what's going on? He thought.

As quick as it came, it left--snapping him out of his trance as reality returned to normalcy around him.

"Ren?" Iris worryingly called his name.

"Huh?" He lifted his gaze to her.

Sweat clung to his pores as his breathing had shifted; rapidly inhaling and exhaling.

...It's weird. Unnerving. I didn't see or hear it, yet I know it. I understand it perfectly, it's natural to my mind...this magecraft, it's so foreign to me...yet I know it? Did the book give it to me? I can't tell her.

A dreadful sense of powerlessness clung to his body as he trembled silently for a moment, parting his lips as nothing could come out.

I want to tell her, I know I do. But...there's this fear that's lacing my heart--if I open my mouth, only fits of air come out instead of what I intend to say, he thought.

"Ren?" She asked again.

"...It's nothing. I'm fine," he answered.

As his fist quivered, he clenched it tightly, looking down at the enigmatic book with a new outlook.

"Ars"...I swear I've heard it before. I won't use it for now...I can't risk something like this, he decided.

"Should we look at it another time? You don't look like you're feeling well," Iris suggested.

She followed her words by placing her hand against his forehead, bringing herself within close proximity as they both blushed.

"I'm not sick," he muttered.

"It doesn't hurt to check."

As she checked his temperature, he had no choice but to meet eye-to-eye with her, a hard task as her sublime, azure jewels felt overpowering to be on the other end of--especially when being close enough to feel the warmth of their breaths intertwine.

After what felt like a heart-thumping eternity, she removed her hand from his head.

"So…?" He asked.

"...You're cold. You should get some rest, Ren. You've been running on small spurts of sleep for a while now...that's probably why you spaced out like that," Iris told him.

There was really no arguing with the words that came from her lips like a doting mother; this much he knew well. As curious as he was to the contents of the book, he veiled it once more before slipping it under the mattress.

It'd probably be bad if someone found this, right…? I don't want anyone else experiencing that...he thought.

"I hope the others are settling in well," he commented as he pulled the scarlet blanket over his body.

"Don't worry; I'm sure they are," she smiled.

They laid with their backs facing one another; it was simply the only way for them to coexist without setting off into a crimson-cheeked fluster.

Even still, he could feel his heart thumping against his chest like a wild beast as he listened to her faint, but soothing breaths.

"Goodnight, Ren," she spoke softly.

"Night," he replied.

Closing his eyes, he blushfully set off into the hardest quest of sleep he's endured throughout his twenty-years alive and conscious.

It wasn't as if he opened his eyes or even really felt himself be transported, but sometime after he initially set off to sleep--he found himself standing in an enigmatic, abyssal plane.

Beneath the soles of his feet, he stood on a gravelly, chalky ground that felt unstable to stand upon. Above him, the sky, if it could be called that, existed as an ominous, ever-moving stride of darkness that hummed with enigma.

"Huh? Am I dreaming?...That's weird, I feel...conscious?" He spoke.

Looking at his hands, there wasn't the usual, fuzzy blur that came with vision within the world of dreams.

...That was easier than I expected. Guess I was more tired than I thought, he surmised.

"You're partially correct," a masculine voice answered.

It came from directly behind him; so clear and suave that he found himself immediately spinning around to meet its source.

But, there was nobody standing at his back--only the dreadful scenery of the unknown, unrendered lands swallowed by shadows.

It was not meeting with his eyes whatever the words belonged to that sent a stiffening anxiety through his body as he fell still for a moment.

As if taking advantage of this anxiety, a simple, light tap to his shoulder was accompanied by the same, elegant voice, "Boo."

"Gah!"

He jumped, turning around this time to actually meet face-to-face with the unknown entity existing in the dreamlike world with him.

To put it simply, he was towered over. It wasn't a matter of simply being outclassed in height--he found himself having to arch his neck to look up at the tall-standing man.

Staring back down at him were eyes of utmost elegant and exuberance, but at the same time--power and authority; unlike any he had met with before, they were black pearls imbued with a veil of the shifting cosmos, meeting his gaze with sharp, but gentle, golden pupils.

...Who is this guy? He's unlike anyone I've seen, he thought.

Clad in a refined suit that without question had to be tailored specifically for a man of his size, it was decorated with a wrinkle-free mantle that exhibited violet stripes on its underside, accented with hints of crimson and violet.

It was clearly not just some dream, he knew this by the painful throbbing of his heart that was all too real.

"Who are you? Where the hell am I?!" Ren asked.

Looking down at him still, the man who looked to be in his mid-twenties stayed silent for a few moments as his neatly-kempt, jet-black locks gently moved with a passing wind.

"I've been waiting quite a long while," the man spoke with a silver smoothness.

His question was seemingly ignored, but the man leaned down, bringing his face closer to the young man's--uncomfortably so as he naturally tried to lean back.

"Don't be so afraid. I don't bite," the man smiled.

"...Yeah, well, I don't know you--so don't mind me, but I'd like to keep our breaths from mingling!" Ren stepped back with a huff.

Smiling, the mysterious, towering man dressed with his tailcoat suit stood up straight, placing the heels of his dress shoes together as he laid his right hand, clad in a white, silken glove over his chest.

"A name is what you want, is it?" He asked with a smile.

"It'd be a good start."

The black-haired man took delight in his cheeky attitude, smiling mysteriously as he bowed slightly.

--Though his smile soon faded, "...I'm afraid a name is something I lack," the man told.

It became clear as day once the man bowed that he wasn't human, at least not entirely; a sable tail extended from his back, bearing crimson stripes to match his suit.

"Huh? You're telling me you don't have a name?" Ren asked.

With a gentle somberness about him, the man softly shook his head in confirmation, taking to a knee as if showing utmost respect for the young man.

What's up with him? I don't get it…? Why's he acting like this with me? He thought.

"To be quite honest, my name was never important to me. In all of my time spent here in solitude, I worked earnestly to remember you. I lost count of the days, months, years...decades, and centuries. All that matters is that we've reunited, master. Even in my forgetful heart, I never forgot why it was I waited here, or who it was I was waiting for," the nameless man spoke.

By all means, he didn't see any reason to believe the words that should be nonsensical--but the genuine air that guided his words felt nothing less than truthful.

"We've met here because you've received your authority...or rather, it was returned to you. It would seem the foolish Marquis failed to return it to you themselves...but they planted it in that tome. How conniving...even if it was for a good cause, their deception with you is a grievous mistake, my master. Nonetheless...you should read that book, when you get the chance."

Even though the man spoke, his words hardly met Ren as he was experiencing a debilitating spectrum of emotions flowing through his mind.