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Sigmund’s hands gently rested on the frame of the window as he gazed out over the temple city of Amygdala and into the night, mesmerised by the sight. The sky itself seemed to ripple like waves in the ocean, the stars flowing back and forth between the auroras in a hypnotic dance. Though he was but a boy, the young scion couldn’t help but feel the weight of the world on his shoulders, knowing that one day the fate of the entire Mindbreaker Order would lay with him. When he gazed out into the cosmos, however, he felt his worries fade away, allowing his mind to drift off into the infinite.
Abruptly, the youth’s attention was drawn away from the sight as the light of a torch shone around the nearest corner. The watch already? How long had he been staring? He briefly considered making a break for his room, knowing full-well that he wasn’t meant to be up this late, but quickly dismissed the thought. As long as it was anyone besides his father, there was little they could do beyond a brief chastising. And if it was Erik, the worst he would get was a stern talking too.
“...Sigmund?” A concerned voice asked as a figure rounded the corner, the long black hair and pale skin immediately familiar to the boy. Oh. Perhaps he had been a little too arrogant in his assessment.
“Hello Morgan.” The young scion said sheepishly. As the older cultist drew closer, guilt struck into Sigmund’s heart as he saw the worried look on her face. As the youngest member of the Vrell family, the future scion of the Mindbreaker order, many of the cult’s members had a hand in raising him to some degree. However, with the exception of his father, none of them were nearly as close to him as Morgan was.
“Come, step away from the window, we don’t want you catching frostbite.” The woman said softly, gently taking Sigmund's hand and leading him away. Sneaking one last glance into the night sky, the boy allowed her to lead him back to his room. “You’re up so late… are you feeling alright?”
“I’m ok. I just couldn’t sleep.” He replied. It was the simple truth, though he didn’t feel inclined to share the reason for his insomnia. Morgan pursed her lips and furrowed her brow, sending another pang of guilt through the youth, but proved no further.
“Well, we can't have you staying up all night.” The senior cultist said quietly, kneeling down to Sigmund’s height as they reached his door. “Here, I know what’ll help you get to sleep. Go get into bed, I’ll be back in just a moment.”
The young scion gave a somewhat sheepish nod to the older cultist. Smiling warmly, Morgan gave him a pat on the head before ushering him inside. The future high priest gave a little sigh as he climbed into bed, pulling the fur blankets tight around him. A short while later, the door creaked open and the elder Mindbreaker stepped inside, raising a book bound in red leather with an excited grin.
“What’s that?” The boy asked, peering curiously at the tome as Morgan sat on the edge of his bed.
“It’s a book of stories.” She replied, her voice quiet but eager. “They’re all Mindbreaker tales. I’ve wanted to read some to you for a while but you’re always so busy with Erik...”
Sigmund visibly perked up at this. He had always been intrigued by the stories of the cult but had only heard the most basic, those of the world’s creation and of Aster Vrell, the first scion of Gal’skap. Morgan’s smile grew when she noticed the young scion’s interest, but she quickly cleared her throat and did her best to put on a stern look.
“Now, I’m happy to read to you whenever you want on one condition. No more staying up so late, ok?”
With a hint of reluctance, Sigmund nodded to the older cultist. He wasn’t convinced that his insomnia would suddenly come to a halt, but the promise of stories in exchange for her peace of mind was a deal that the boy was willing to take. “Ok, I promise.”
“Ah, I was expecting more of a fight. I’m glad you’re so cooperative, though. Now, let’s see here…” She replied, visibly relieved as she began flipping through her book. “Alright, I think I have just the story for you. How would you like to hear one about a lost scion?”
Sigmund raised an eyebrow at this. It was certainly relevant to his current situation. Perhaps a little too relevant. He knew that Morgan would never read his mind without asking permission, so it was either a bizarre coincidence or he must have been far easier to read than he expected. Slightly embarrassed, the future priest gave the older cultist a shy nod.
“Great.” She said happily, clearing her throat. “Once, in the land of Ranvier, there was a lone scion of Gal’skap, lost in the woods. This scion had heard that there were mages in the woods, and went to vanquish this evil, but had found themselves outnumbered and fled.”
The future priest couldn’t help but wonder just how truthful this story was, but already felt a sense of worry for the one that could very well be his spiritual ancestor.
“Lost and alone, the scion wandered through the woods. They didn’t know how to handle this, they didn’t know what to do. But Gal’skap wouldn’t just let one of Their children wander alone. The lost scion came across another child of the mad one. It watched them with many eyes, grinned at them with many maws, and greeted them with many voices. ‘My name is Du’radia,’ they said, whispering with many voices while screaming with one. ‘What troubles you, little madness?’”
Sigmund said nothing, simply sitting and listening intently, deeply intrigued by what he was hearing.
“‘I am lost and alone, great one.’ The scion replied. ‘I came to defeat the heretics, but instead I was outnumbered and chased into these woods.’ And Du’radia laughed, carrying mania on the wind. ‘Whatever do you mean, little madness?’ They asked. ‘Gal’skap is always with you.’ ‘And what if I make the wrong choice? What if I disappoint Him?’”
The young scion froze up at this, hanging off of Morgan’s every word.
“And Du’radia laughed again. ‘Why, little madness, you are the scion of Gal’skap! As long as you hold your faith, you can never disappoint your patron. There will never be a wrong choice. Do you still hold faith in the Madness Within?’ And the scion stood proudly. ‘Of course I still hold my faith!’ ‘Then I will help you. Together, beneath Gal’skap, we will cleanse these woods.’”
“And so, the two children of madness confronted the magi, holding their patron in their hearts. ‘Why have you returned, cultist?’ The leader of the magi asked. ‘Have we not already proven that you cannot beat all of us alone?’ But the scion was no longer afraid. You magi may be many,’ the scion said, ‘but I am never alone.’”
Sigmund felt a little chill down his spine at this, a tiny tingle in his mind as he felt the latent spark of Gal’skap in his soul stir for just a moment. The young cultist, so invested in the story, had forgotten his worries and was beginning to drift off, the late night catching up with him.
“The magi laughed at first, and then they screamed as Du’radia opened their greatest maw and devoured their leader. Together, with joy and terror, the children of madness freed those woods of the magi until only they two remained. ‘Thank you, great one.’ The scion said. ‘The day would be lost without your wisdom.’ ‘Do not thank me, little madness. Gal’skap would never abandon one of Their children.’ Du’radia replied. ‘If you ever feel lost or scared again, simply call for me and remember: you are never alone.’”
Her story finished, Morgan glanced up at Sigmund to gauge his reaction. To her pleasant surprise, the youth was fast asleep. “Guess you liked it, then.” She said, quietly easing herself off the bed before wiping a lock of hair off of his face.
“Goodnight, my little madness.”
Abruptly, the youth’s attention was drawn away from the sight as the light of a torch shone around the nearest corner. The watch already? How long had he been staring? He briefly considered making a break for his room, knowing full-well that he wasn’t meant to be up this late, but quickly dismissed the thought. As long as it was anyone besides his father, there was little they could do beyond a brief chastising. And if it was Erik, the worst he would get was a stern talking too.
“...Sigmund?” A concerned voice asked as a figure rounded the corner, the long black hair and pale skin immediately familiar to the boy. Oh. Perhaps he had been a little too arrogant in his assessment.
“Hello Morgan.” The young scion said sheepishly. As the older cultist drew closer, guilt struck into Sigmund’s heart as he saw the worried look on her face. As the youngest member of the Vrell family, the future scion of the Mindbreaker order, many of the cult’s members had a hand in raising him to some degree. However, with the exception of his father, none of them were nearly as close to him as Morgan was.
“Come, step away from the window, we don’t want you catching frostbite.” The woman said softly, gently taking Sigmund's hand and leading him away. Sneaking one last glance into the night sky, the boy allowed her to lead him back to his room. “You’re up so late… are you feeling alright?”
“I’m ok. I just couldn’t sleep.” He replied. It was the simple truth, though he didn’t feel inclined to share the reason for his insomnia. Morgan pursed her lips and furrowed her brow, sending another pang of guilt through the youth, but proved no further.
“Well, we can't have you staying up all night.” The senior cultist said quietly, kneeling down to Sigmund’s height as they reached his door. “Here, I know what’ll help you get to sleep. Go get into bed, I’ll be back in just a moment.”
The young scion gave a somewhat sheepish nod to the older cultist. Smiling warmly, Morgan gave him a pat on the head before ushering him inside. The future high priest gave a little sigh as he climbed into bed, pulling the fur blankets tight around him. A short while later, the door creaked open and the elder Mindbreaker stepped inside, raising a book bound in red leather with an excited grin.
“What’s that?” The boy asked, peering curiously at the tome as Morgan sat on the edge of his bed.
“It’s a book of stories.” She replied, her voice quiet but eager. “They’re all Mindbreaker tales. I’ve wanted to read some to you for a while but you’re always so busy with Erik...”
Sigmund visibly perked up at this. He had always been intrigued by the stories of the cult but had only heard the most basic, those of the world’s creation and of Aster Vrell, the first scion of Gal’skap. Morgan’s smile grew when she noticed the young scion’s interest, but she quickly cleared her throat and did her best to put on a stern look.
“Now, I’m happy to read to you whenever you want on one condition. No more staying up so late, ok?”
With a hint of reluctance, Sigmund nodded to the older cultist. He wasn’t convinced that his insomnia would suddenly come to a halt, but the promise of stories in exchange for her peace of mind was a deal that the boy was willing to take. “Ok, I promise.”
“Ah, I was expecting more of a fight. I’m glad you’re so cooperative, though. Now, let’s see here…” She replied, visibly relieved as she began flipping through her book. “Alright, I think I have just the story for you. How would you like to hear one about a lost scion?”
Sigmund raised an eyebrow at this. It was certainly relevant to his current situation. Perhaps a little too relevant. He knew that Morgan would never read his mind without asking permission, so it was either a bizarre coincidence or he must have been far easier to read than he expected. Slightly embarrassed, the future priest gave the older cultist a shy nod.
“Great.” She said happily, clearing her throat. “Once, in the land of Ranvier, there was a lone scion of Gal’skap, lost in the woods. This scion had heard that there were mages in the woods, and went to vanquish this evil, but had found themselves outnumbered and fled.”
The future priest couldn’t help but wonder just how truthful this story was, but already felt a sense of worry for the one that could very well be his spiritual ancestor.
“Lost and alone, the scion wandered through the woods. They didn’t know how to handle this, they didn’t know what to do. But Gal’skap wouldn’t just let one of Their children wander alone. The lost scion came across another child of the mad one. It watched them with many eyes, grinned at them with many maws, and greeted them with many voices. ‘My name is Du’radia,’ they said, whispering with many voices while screaming with one. ‘What troubles you, little madness?’”
Sigmund said nothing, simply sitting and listening intently, deeply intrigued by what he was hearing.
“‘I am lost and alone, great one.’ The scion replied. ‘I came to defeat the heretics, but instead I was outnumbered and chased into these woods.’ And Du’radia laughed, carrying mania on the wind. ‘Whatever do you mean, little madness?’ They asked. ‘Gal’skap is always with you.’ ‘And what if I make the wrong choice? What if I disappoint Him?’”
The young scion froze up at this, hanging off of Morgan’s every word.
“And Du’radia laughed again. ‘Why, little madness, you are the scion of Gal’skap! As long as you hold your faith, you can never disappoint your patron. There will never be a wrong choice. Do you still hold faith in the Madness Within?’ And the scion stood proudly. ‘Of course I still hold my faith!’ ‘Then I will help you. Together, beneath Gal’skap, we will cleanse these woods.’”
“And so, the two children of madness confronted the magi, holding their patron in their hearts. ‘Why have you returned, cultist?’ The leader of the magi asked. ‘Have we not already proven that you cannot beat all of us alone?’ But the scion was no longer afraid. You magi may be many,’ the scion said, ‘but I am never alone.’”
Sigmund felt a little chill down his spine at this, a tiny tingle in his mind as he felt the latent spark of Gal’skap in his soul stir for just a moment. The young cultist, so invested in the story, had forgotten his worries and was beginning to drift off, the late night catching up with him.
“The magi laughed at first, and then they screamed as Du’radia opened their greatest maw and devoured their leader. Together, with joy and terror, the children of madness freed those woods of the magi until only they two remained. ‘Thank you, great one.’ The scion said. ‘The day would be lost without your wisdom.’ ‘Do not thank me, little madness. Gal’skap would never abandon one of Their children.’ Du’radia replied. ‘If you ever feel lost or scared again, simply call for me and remember: you are never alone.’”
Her story finished, Morgan glanced up at Sigmund to gauge his reaction. To her pleasant surprise, the youth was fast asleep. “Guess you liked it, then.” She said, quietly easing herself off the bed before wiping a lock of hair off of his face.
“Goodnight, my little madness.”