Music is nc17 from the Zankyou no Terror OST, composed by Yoko Kanno. Play it!

******

The air around us seems to distill the shadows for a moment, drawing out their essence and suffocating the atmosphere with darkness. For that one moment, I lose control of my shadows. They shriek free of my grip, like beasts being released into the wild.

Then they return themselves to me. I suck in a deep breath, recovering myself from the brief panic that seized my heart. It's almost as though I've lost a limb, losing my shadows.

"You mean my siblings are all necromancers?" My voice is barely audible, even amongst the echoes.

"Well, they may be. They may be not," Alvina replies unhelpfully. "Potential necromancers would have to go through quite an ordeal in order to awaken their magic. And even so, most of them wouldn't manage it."

"I don't recall an ordeal of any sort to awaken my brand of necromancy," I say.

"Ah, but that's because you are the Deathslayer. Your magic works differently from the usual bunch."

Silence permeates my bones. I think about my siblings: Eric, Isolde, William and Ronald. If they are found out to have necromancy... Seven Hells, I don't know what I can do. Give myself up in their place? No. The Perinians would demand that more of us be executed, in return. However, one question tickles my mind. "So if they never awaken their necromancy, they can't be accused as necromancers?"

"That's the idea, yes." I sense Alvina casting me a side-glance in the darkness. "So long as you make sure that they don't go through trauma of any sort."

I carefully rifle through my memories, determining if there had been any incidents in the past which could have triggered my siblings' necromancy. Only one comes to mind—the one where Isolde had went straight to Diomedes in my stead. She'd seemed to be fine after that, if not a little shaken, but one can never assume. 

Then again, I wouldn't know if any of my siblings have gone through ordeals of any sort, since I'm not by their sides all the time.

Still, all is quiet so far. Even if one of them has had their necromancy awakened, he—or she—is doing a good job of hiding it.

"I'll make sure of that," I say quietly, more to myself than Alvina. Yes, I have to make sure of that—by taking care of this infection before it spreads.

I must.

To my surprise and slight irritation, Alvina chuckles. "Now you see why I have no desire to have children? Just the idea of them having necromancy, no matter how slim the chances are...I cannot live with this burden for the rest of my life," she says. "It was why Kendra didn't marry either. Only Marcella was foolish enough to fall into society's expectations of an intrinsic woman."

"Or perhaps she merely wanted to carry on her legacy," I suggest.

Alvina shakes her head. "Our cousins—your uncles and aunts—can fulfil that role as well. The Deathslayer abilities do not thin out with blood, unlike our magic." She sounds almost accusatory of my mother; I bristle as retaliation. We may not be as close as mother and daughter should be, but she is the one who gave me flesh and blood. "If she had managed to control her wild streak, she would have still been here."

My bristling dies down for a bit. Beneath the accusatory tone, I detect a hint of bitterness—but at what? For my mother, who'd abandoned her in this village? Forcing her to take up the mantle as the head of the Seers, a role she'd never expected? Or...for something else?

"If she had managed to control her wild streak," I say softly, "I wouldn't be here."

"Hmph. I suppose so." To my surprise, Alvina abruptly latches her hand onto my elbow. "Apologies, but I shall require your assistance to go through here. It's my first time traversing this path."

"Your first time?" I snort, incredulous. "You've lived here all your life."

"Believe it or not, it is my first time." I swear that Alvina's grin glimmers through the darkness. "The only path open to us is the one we were in before, you see?"

"I don't see."

"Then perhaps later you'll see—we'll both see."

What does that mean? I ask Abner.

He's been treading lightly on the surface of my mind for a while. His smugness rumbles throughout me. I roll my eyes, aware that no one can see it. Like Alvina just said, you'll see.

Aren't you a helpful guide?

As always.

We tread along without words for a while, Alvina and I, she leaning onto me for guidance, I finding it harder and harder to probe my way through shadows due to the discrepancy in my magic. It feels like something is grinding against the pit of my belly—my source of power. No, it's not trying to dampen my magic—it's simply because the unseen source of energy is so vast and overwhelming that my shadows are reduced by comparison. Eventually, I find myself dragging my feet through imaginary mud. Each step I take sends a jolt of resistance up my spine, and Alvina's weight is a thousand mountains crushing my lungs.

Yet I force myself to move on. Instincts tell me that I'm almost at the end. I have to keep walking—otherwise all this effort would be for naught. My mind is cloudy. Keep going, I grit my teeth and tell myself. I cling onto that one thought and take another step forward. Keep going.

I suddenly slam into a wall of fire.

At least, it feels like it. Before me, there is nothing but a yawning chasm of darkness, spiralling towards eternity. But my senses are on fire—they're being seared, being reduced into bits of charcoal and ash. I try to breathe, reach for my shadows, block the fire out. No effect.

The pain is obliterating. Even though by all logic, I shouldn't see anything down here, stars dance before my eyes. Don't faint! I scream internally, somehow clinging onto the last remnants of my consciousness. I'm vaguely aware that Alvina is no longer holding onto me. I can't summon the energy to find her. All of that is spent on trying to form a protective barrier around my own magic—the invading energy is trying to swallow my own, and in my mind, I picture shadows closing around fire.

No. I can't allow that to happen. I push against the foreign magic. It's ancient; I can taste it as how one's palate tastes fine wine. And it's frightening to see how ridiculously limitless the magic is—a swirl of stars disappearing into depths of the night sky. My power is miniscule by contrast. I know that fighting the magic is futile, yet I keep fighting.

In the end, I can't maintain the barrier anymore—it plummets.

The foreign magic rushes into me.

And the pain drops.

I gasp, my mind regaining clarity. My body feels so...light. Without the foreign magic pressing me down, my limbs are as buoyant as ducks upon water. My shadows gradually trickle back to me, and I instinctively wrap them around myself, taking solace in their rippling, pulsing presence. I stay like that for a while, trying to comprehend the situation.

"Well, wasn't that spectacular?" Alvina's voice pierces the darkness.

I release my shadows, allowing them to scout the area for me. Towards my back, the length of rocks where we had come from; towards my front, a strange blockage—my shadows can't go inside; towards my left, Alvina, calming leaning against the wall of the tunnel.

"What did you do?" I growl.

"No need to be so quick to jump to conclusions," she huffs indignantly. "I saw you literally flare up for a moment there. So I stepped aside and let the magic do its work."

"You— I could have died!"

"But you didn't, did you?" She sounds so infuriatingly complacent. Her tone carries secrets that I don't know—or have yet to know. "Now, shall we proceed?"

"Fine," I snap, marching my way further down.

"Ah, ah. I know you can find your footing very well. Unfortunately, I can't, since my magic's scope is quite limited." She extends an arm towards my general direction.

I resist the urge to slap her hand and keep moving on without her. But she has so much more knowledge to share with me—I can feel it in my bones. So I wheel around, link my arm with hers, and proceed down the path.

"Perhaps Lord Rutherland has trained you well, after all," she remarks out of the blue. Her words reek of cynicism.

"As pompous as he may seem to you," I say drily, "he is still a lord through and through. Naturally he wouldn't allow his children to suffer from bad mannerisms."

"Naturally."

We leave it at that. There's no hiding that Alvina holds a grudge against my father—and to a lesser extent, my mother as well. There must be another reason...

A brilliant blue light explodes before my eyes.

I throw my hands up to shield my vision, releasing Alvina in the process. She does the same, yet something about her is so composed—so calm in the face of a storm. It's as though she's experienced this somewhere before.

The jarring blast of light ebbs away; I dare myself to take a peek at the scene before me.

Where there was nothingness, now there is a glowing pool of light.

No, not light—water. Save for the fact that this pool glows a light blue, everything about it is similar to the cavern from just now. The crooks carved into the walls, the dancing sparkles of a swarm of gemstones, the alluring beauty of it all...

Then there is Abner.

Abner? I call out to him in my mind.

He doesn't respond. I panic. What am I to do without Abner? Wait—there. His entire presence is sluggish. No wonder I couldn't sense him at first. I reach into the back of my mind, probing him. He stirs, but still doesn't respond. That's when I sense a thread, binding itself to him, leading towards the outside of the boundaries of my mind. I follow that thread, determined to find the cause of my guide's stupor. Then I realise that he is somehow...connected to the pool. Abner is being attracted to it as how flies are attracted to fire.

Abner! I shriek. No good. Looks like I can't disturb him while he's tying himself to whatever lying within the pool.

I walk towards the water. Alvina doesn't stop me—doesn't even question me. I suspect that she brought me here knowing what my next moves would be.

She's cunning. I resent her for that; a small part of me submits to the cunning in admiration.

As I draw closer to the pool, a song begins to sing in my head. A quiet one, barely there—enough to be dismissed as a phantom of the mind. But I never sing. So I know that it's not of my own volition.

Yet I'm not afraid of it. It feels so familiar, yet oddly distant. I understand it, yet I don't. It's a series of contradictions, haphazard chords and unstructured phrases. I want to know it desperately—yet I feel that I should have known it a long time ago.

I kneel before the pool, watching my reflection staring back at me in its rippling waters. A boy, brows drawn and lips pressed, his face as delicate as a woman's. And beyond that, more. More things waiting to be discovered within the skin of a boy—more potential waiting to be untapped.

Cautiously, I dip my hands into the water. I almost sink in relief in its comforting coolness.

Then my mind explodes.

It feels like pieces of my mind are slowly being re-joined. Shattered fragments of a porcelain piece trying to put themselves back together. The process is arduous, yet it manages, piece by piece, slowly building itself again.

Images flash by. A man brandishing a longsword atop a dragon. Another poring over maps and figurines, expression deeply fixed in thoughts. Another stands tall amidst a field of corpses, while yet another charges into enemy lines with a lion by his side.

Abner...

That name. It speaks of a thousand lives, and so much more. It carries the weight of the world, certain to carry this burden till the ends of forever. But it doesn't so much as balk under this weight. It just keeps moving on, finding new ways to deal with new people, gaining knowledge and experience as time passes.

The scattered pieces of my mind fully re-join themselves. The result is something that was even better than what preceded it. All of the knowledge and experience Abner has flows into me. It's overwhelming.

I open my eyes.

I double over, gasping for air. My hands are already withdrawn from the pool. I hold them to my torso; they automatically scrunch up my cloak.

Abner. My guide's name rings in my head, over and over. I'm not calling out to him. But his name keeps echoing within the crevices of my mind, like a warning bell that never ceases to ring during a siege.

What in the Seven Hells was that?

That's when I realise that Abner is gone.

Abner? I cry out for him this time. Silence. A chill settles over me. I dig deep into the trenches of my mind, searching desperately for him. I don't sense his presence anywhere. Abner? Abner!

No wait. There's a faint thread of Abner in me—like a string of cobweb being strung across a corner of the wall, nearly invisible. If I'd panicked anymore I wouldn't have been able to pick up on it. I follow that thread, carefully, fearfully. If I plough after it I'm scared that I may destroy that connection. Eventually, I figure out where it's leading to.

Into the pool. Again.

I release my hold on the thread, opening my eyes. Automatically, my attention flicks towards Alvina. She's still standing there, like a pillar of strength in the middle of a storm. There's a faint smile on her face. Anger lashes in me.

"What did you do?" I hiss. It takes all of my will to not scream at her: "I want Abner back!"

"Me?" She dares widen her eyes in mock surprise. "I did nothing. But you, my dear, have just unlocked the memories of your past lives."

"What on—I have no time to play games!" That anger rises and rages and rolls inside me; I barely manage to pull it back. Abner—I need him. There's an emptiness in my mind—an emptiness where he used to fill up. I need my guide. I need him. I need him. "Tell me what happened!"

Alvina's expression darkens. "I do not play games either, child." At that last word, I snap. I leap at her with a roar, arm pulled back into a fist.

She holds my gaze steadily, unafraid.

Reality slaps me cold. I hastily shift the direction of my punch; the rocks behind Alvina's left shatter, a suspiciously human-like dent left in them.

I stagger backwards, looking at my handiwork in horror. Thank Pst. Bronicus that I managed to pull back most of the momentum. Otherwise I might have brought down the whole cavern upon our heads.

"I—" I don't know what to say. I don't know how to explain the sudden blank rage that overtook me. I just know that without Abner, my control over my own mind has decreased. He was always there, leashing my sense of self to his, becoming my anchor point. Now that he's barely there...

"Hush, child. No need for apologies." Alvina takes a step closer to me, sincere acceptance written all over face. How could she be so calm after I've nearly killed her? "I understand. Maya didn't experience this because she already has her past lives imbued into her, but in your case, I understand that the absence of one's guide is disconcerting."

How did you know about guides? I think, my head in a whorl. Instead, I say out loud: "Disconcerting is putting it mildly."

"Perhaps. But your guide is still there. It's just that his being has been transferred into the pool."

This conversation is making less and less sense by the moment. I grit my teeth, ignoring the throbbing headache building up in my temples. "Alvina, if you could so kindly explain everything that just happened?"

"Aunt Alvina."

Pietists Above, this woman will not let up with the proper titles. "Aunt Alvina," I say, rolling my eyes.

"Much better. Anyway, like I've said, you have unlocked the memories of your past lives," she says placidly. "The Cave of Three Souls is the birthplace of three Champions, after all. And it is only here where they can tap into their predecessors' memories. I imagine that your guide is currently residing within that pool—he's merely awaiting you to seek him out."

"Hold on. You're telling me that three Champions were appointed here," I say, trying to put the puzzle pieces together. "Pst. Zorah. Pst. Bronicus. One more...that would be—"

I cut myself off, an image of Gilbert suddenly popping into my mind.

"Pst. Ailith," Alvina quietly confirms my speculations.

I stay silent, thinking. Theoretically speaking, in terms of raw power, these three Champions would be the strongest. And Battein is a gathering point of magic, or so Alvina had mentioned. So that means whatever powers that were meant to be ours, we will claim them here.

But the Champions of War aren't supposed to possess any magic. Yes, we may have superhuman abilities, but those abilities aren't remotely reminiscent of any spells or hexes. Those are just traits given to us by our patrons.

So why here? How are the two Champions of War linked to this place?

"Our abilities aren't magical in any way, save for the Champion of Pst. Zorah," I say, surmising my thoughts. "Yet you said that these Champions are linked to these caves. Why is that so? Our abilities are merely enhanced versions of whatever humans already have, in mine and the Champion of Pst. Ailith's case. We can't conjure balls of light or see the future. So strictly speaking, we aren't mages." I pause for a bit, searching Alvina's eyes; the light of the pool reflects in them, casting an eerie blue spell. "Why here? What does the case of Battein being a gathering point of magic have anything to do with...this?"

"It certainly has everything to do with it." Alvina lifts her chin. For a moment, she seems taller than me. "You truly think that your abilities are strictly non-magical? That everything you can do is a blessing of your patron?"

My brows scrunch together. "That's what we've been taught."

"And by whom? Humans?" Alvina releases an unbecoming snort. "Mere mortals can never comprehend the ebb and flow of the unseen—of what makes it go around, of what makes it unseen. They can only theorise. And yet they go on preaching those theories as though they're the truth."

I shuffle uncomfortably on my feet. Alvina hasn't pointed out any names, but I highly suspect that if she were to speak like this in front of a typical Perinian crowd, they'd have her tried and hung as a witch, for spewing such blasphemy. At the same time though, I can't deny that her words hold some sliver of validity in them.

"You're human too," I retort, in the end.

A wry smile ghosts her lips. "I suppose that's true. So am I only theorising? Perhaps that's true as well."

"Then who speaks the truth?" I wasn't expecting this conversation to take a philosophical turn; but I engage in it, all the same.

"Everyone, and no one?" Alvina laughs, shaking the matter off. "Enough of these roundabout debates. Back to business. Well, your abilities definitely have a touch of magic to them. How else do you think that you're able to use your compulsion?"

"I—" I give Alvina a pointed stare. "You know about the compulsion? And the guides, for that matter?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Alvina looks slightly perplexed. "It's blatantly written in the Manuscript, no?"

"What on— No, it isn't!"

"This is confusing." Alvina's expression perfectly mirrors mine, I imagine. A few seconds later though, and the muddled look is gone, as opposed to me. "Ah, yes. I forgot. We Lorelays continue to use the Ancient Cambirians' version of the Manuscript. You Perinians, meanwhile, took the liberty of editing certain bits and pieces. For what purpose, I do not know."

"It was an order of King Brom the Magnificent," I say, recalling history books. "As one of the acts to establish his new kingdom as a separate entity from the one he had brought down."

"Hmph. Perinians."

"Technically speaking, you're Perinian too."

Alvina snorts again, but doesn't comment any further on the matter. "Anyway, your form of magic may not be blatantly calling upon the earth to serve your wishes, but you are able to enhance your own self. Through what methods, I can't say. However, I can say for sure that the three Champions of the Cave of Three Souls are linked together through their abilities."

I grow quiet, thinking. Maya, Gilbert and I. What connection do we have, really? Gilbert and I are obviously Champions of War, so that's one mystery solved. Then where does Maya fit into the puzzle? Why is she here?

I grit my teeth, trying not to drown in the tangle of questions. I instinctively reach out to Abner, only to feel a gaping hole at where he once was.

Talking might help elevate the emptiness. "All right. So let me summarise everything from the beginning." Alvina nods at me. I take a deep breath and continue: "The Cave of Three Souls is where these three Champions were first chosen. And this place also happens to be a gathering point of magic, where the three Champions are...able to access their past lives?"

It sounds ridiculous, coming out of my mouth. Alvina only bobs her head in reassurance. "Go on," she encourages me.

"There are three separate caverns," I resume slowly, the cogwheels in my mind automatically turning themselves, clicking together. "One for each Champion. And the cavern can only be opened once the current respective Champion enters it." my attention snaps towards Alvina. "May I assume that you wanted to bring me here just to open this cavern?"

She smiles. Her lips don't part to speak. That's the only answer I need.

"All right. So this cavern belongs to the Champion of Pst. Bronicus. But why was it sealed off in the first place? To prevent unwanted outsiders? Maybe. But then..." I eye my maternal aunt. "How can you come in?"

"I am a Seer. One of the people appointed to protect this holy place. My blood grants me access—after the cavern has been opened, that is."

"So that's one mystery solved." I look at the pool. Its glowing waters ripple across my vision, somehow enticing me to dive back into them. I tear my eyes away from it. The purpose of the Cave of Three Souls—it must be centred around these pools. "This place... It's not only for us to access our past lives, is it?" Alvina and I lock eyes with each other; her gaze holds a sparkle within them—and it isn't just because of the light of the pool. "It's for us to access our past lives, and learn more about our abilities. How to control them. Something our guides cannot accomplish on their own. But collectively..."

Pietists Above.

"I'm surprised that you're able to deduce so many things from observations alone, Constantine." Alvina begins to stroll about, circling the pool aimlessly. Yet she seems to gravitate towards it, as though there were some invisible string keeping her tethered to the waters. "Yes, you will be able to gain the knowledge you need to harness your abilities here—if you can use them wisely."

No wonder Abner was so insistent on my coming here. And to think, it was all because of Sir Kendrick.

Sir Kendrick... How could a knight—Bane he may be—so far removed from the Champions be the one leading to all this?

I cast my head upwards. Although I see nothing but heavy stone walls bricking me in from all sides, I have the vague sensation that my patron is seeing me very clearly. All these events falling in line so perfectly...

My head splits. The back of my eyes throb. I'm tired—been tired ever since I've passed through that invisible wall of fire to get here. And with Abner no longer here to support me.

No. Abner is still here. He's just lying deep within that pool, slumbering, waiting for me to call upon him.

He'll have to wait for a bit longer. I'm too mentally exhausted to proceed any further with this. My heart is burning with a desire for answers, but my brain is telling me enough—to stop for today, and return with a clearer perspective.

"Alvina"—she stops circling the pool, her robes fluttering into stillness after her—"I – I'd like to return to the mansion, if I may." I'm aware of how my voice is reflecting my inner weariness.

"Of course. This must all be very overwhelming for you." She walks to my side, slipping her arm through mine. "Come."

We exit the cavern without another word. The emptiness inside me yawns noticeably the further I walk away from the pool. I feel like thousands of daggers are stabbing through my chest. I'm sorry, Abner, I think, hoping that someway, somehow, my words can reach him. I will come back. I promise.

Alvina seems to have memorised the rough layout of the tunnel as she came in—she walks with a definite confidence in her steps, no longer completely dependent on my guidance. Well, she definitely has the sense of direction that I'm lacking.

An image of Mother rises in my mind. Of course, I can't really see Alvina's colouring, so I can't really compare their appearances. However, they strike me as complete contrasts so far. Sisters not in personality, that's for sure.

Isolde. I wonder how she's doing. She'd be busy making wedding preparations, if her last letter is anything to go by. I silently pray that her future husband will be kind to her, even if he is Baron Samareal.

Stop thinking. You're exerting yourself unnecessarily, a small voice tells me.

I listen to it, blanking out my thoughts.

"Here." Alvina's voice rings out; I snap to attention. We're back at the crossroads, where the path diverges into three separate tunnels, leading to three separate caverns. "This is as far as I go. I have to return to my duties."

"Will you come to the mansion?" I ask, genuinely curious if the Seers ever stick their necks out of the Cave of Three Souls. They give the impression of being permanently glued to Pst. Zorah's cavern, for whatever reasons.

A faint smile, one strangely resembling my mother's—the one she gives when she tells me something painful, yet true. "I most certainly will. Fret not."

"I still have so many questions." I cast a look down the tunnel we'd just emerged from. Abner is still in there. My past lives could be the key to controlling my recent bouts of rage. I resign myself with a heavy sigh. "I suppose they'll have to wait for another day."

"The Cave of Three Souls will not run away." Alvina places a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it gently. "Whatever you seek, you shall find here. But first, get some rest. I'm sure it's been a long day for you."

"It has." Gilbert; the ritual; the return of my shadows; the Cave of Three Souls; and now Abner's all-too-painful absence.

"Go now. I'll be able to find my way back just fine."

I sweep myself into a bow. It belatedly occurs to me that she can't see it. So I settle for a: "Goodbye, Aunt Alvina."

"Goodbye for now."

I sense her wheeling around and heading back into the tunnel on the far right, the one leading into Pst. Zorah's cavern. I take it as my cue to walk out of the Cave of Three Souls.

Eventually, I emerge into a cold sting filling my lungs and waning sunlight. I take in a deep breath, savouring the atmosphere, allowing my boots to sink deep into snow. Instantly, I feel refreshed.

It should be mid-afternoon already, judging by the setting sun. The others would start to question why a cave-exploration would take such a long time, compared to their current assignments.

So I follow the posts leading back into the town.

With no Abner.

Tears spill from my eyes.

******

A/N: No Abner now. Constantine has been using him as a crutch lately. Any guesses on how she'll cope without him? On the bright side, this recent series of incidents also mean that she can possibly find the root of the sickness. Doesn't mean that she'll find the cure though, unfortunately!

Okay, so a few updates: My laptop's pretty busted, and I'm doing all I can to write on my phone, but I don't know if I'll be able to keep up with the weekly updates. I do have plenty of chapters, yes. So no fear--this won't go on hold. However, I might change it to fortnightly updates.

Update number two: Recently I have this story idea tickling my head. Actually, it's taking over my head. Now I need your opinion--write Legacy and this at the same time, or focus on Legacy first? In case you're curious, it's a mishmash of cyberpunk and magic, featuring a female samurai teaming up with a rookie detective to investigate a series of murders.

Whew, that was long. Don't forget to vote, comment, share and recommend!