How long had it been? How long had one of the most infamous criminals within Earthland been trapped in this underwater prison? For most of the denizen of the Hellsea Bastille time became a trivial concept. Most of them were going to spend the rest of their existence here anywhere. But could the same be said for Erebus?

Trapped in the Hellsea Bastille most thought that at long last the world would be safe from the threat Erebus represented. And yet... For Erebus it all begun during one of the few moments he could rest, a somber opportunity to spare and restore some of his strength, after all life in Hellsea Bastille was a constant struggle, even for him. Criminals who saw an opportunity to rise in reputation were plenty, and as a result even Erebus frequently had to deal with the encroaching threat of assassinations.

But during this moment, he was safe, or at least as safe as he could be in a place like this. His current 'accommodation' came in the form of a large cell, an isolation chamber maybe? Who was it again that put him there? Was it one of the secret manipulators of the game he was trapped by? Or perhaps the fact that to avoid some conflict they had put him away from the other inmates.

Then again, did it truly matter who gave him this gift? Thinking too much on it would just distract him from his rest. Yet it was this moment of solitude that also brought him an opportunity.

"Erebus..." A voice whispered, a soft feminine voice, clearly out of place in a prison like this. Should the man have tried to open his eyes he would see the isolation cell was still empty. A trick of the mind perhaps? Or...

"No, you shouldn't look to the outside, gaze within... deeper~ yes much deeper..."

As if a spell had been cast upon the mercenary a feeling of drowsiness would overcome him, just enough to make him close his eyes again. It was at that moment it happened: The prison seemed to dissolve around him, turning into a sea of grass that stretched as far as his eyes could see.

It was there, upon a small hill a lone table stood, a parasol stood over the small table, shielding them from the sunlight that had become almost a foreign experience for him, in front of him was a cup, filled with some sort of tea and a collection of pastries at display, while at the other side 'she' was seated.



A young woman was gently sipping from her tea, her eyes gazing calmly at the mercenary. "There we go~ It's been a while since I formed a dreamscape like this." A soft hum was followed by the woman as she continued. "It is a pleasure to meet you 'Erebus', or perhaps the phrase: It is lovely to see you again. Might be more appropriate.

When he first heard Emilia’s voice he had ignored it. Then it began to penetrate and hush his own focus, as that was essentially the magic power that was working against his psyche. Instead he threw his arms in a lateral movement to shadow box and stay working his nerve, occasionally punching his bloodied knuckles against the walls that choked the air all around him. The tiny viewing hole on the window showed only black water. Depths that were too deep to give anything back to the inhabitants. To look deeper, Erebus needed the consciousness for it.

Was he conscious?

It was always dark and decrypt here, and so Erebus couldn’t tell when it was day and if it was always night, that drowsiness took a hold onto him, and constrained his person. When the voice returned, he found himself lured and lulled in by the spell. He was under it in no time, the last thing he saw was his body falling through the floor of his cell, drowned by the apnea that flooded over his body; a rush of black water he imagined had gotten him from outside, that departing cleansed his mind, but it could not silence his raging heart.

The divine spark which the gnostics believed in, that little piece of divinity. If it were true that each human had that gift, and some had more of it than others, and some had different parts of divinity in its essence. If that were true. The body of Erebus, a human vessel, must be trapping and caging that piece of God. The source for whatever he was. It screamed with frustration and was depraved of rest— as the wicked cannot… Then, he awoke in the field, he was there and his vision scanned the event horizon. The dreamscape which Emilia had pulled him into— upon stepping forward, the meadows wilted and dyed a brown-orange tint, the sky itself becoming the faintest green shade in it’s backdrop, around his metal boots the decay of life seemed to spread. It shown of rot and tragedy with which whatever had absolved this creature, mortified nature itself. His insatiable chase for ruin and scorn, age old and ancient by design. The man walking the path of the incarnation death, the gatekeeper of dark dealings.

His eyes, stared forward at the pale lady. The ghost on her parasol. A white horse — Erebus could see clearly, if this were hallucination, he accepted seeing something else aside from his chamber walls. However, his eyes were windowless black orbs, one could not see the soul on the other side of them anymore. When he spoke to her, it was clear that a being of chaos was in front of her, this was no normal human. If that were true, how would he have gotten this far?

“A dreamscape you say...” He managed. Visible burns and scarred tissue littered his body and face, he was gnarled beyond a regular person— not quite ugly but certainly changed by the violence he’d experienced in life, with his face unveiled and clad merely by his robe. One would see that adventure had been more than this adventurer bargained for, and perhaps a telling perspective of how loss and grief could create a criminal. “You haunt me in my last days spirit, what have I done to ire your wrath I must wonder,” He inquired. The lands around him were… much too peaceful for whatever Erebus deserved, so he must not be dead, he thought for a longer moment about what this could be about. Was it just hallucination? It felt possible, he looked upon the spirit, inching closer to her table, pouring the hot tea out of its kettle into the coffee cup at her side. Clearly pouring her glass, whilst he left his empty and put the kettle back against its place against her wooden table.

“They plan for my execution, they’ll make an example of the King’s enemies. The world awaits my penalty.” he stood stock still— motionless before the white-robed lady. “I believe I will see you there Angel of Death… However, my legacy is intact,” he suggested an optimistic take on his turn of events, as if he were aware his time had come and went, and yet— he had let it lingered even so.

“What information have you come in search of,” He said— accepting what he had believed to be— the end of his life.

"Indeed~ After all it is the easiest method to commune without the concern of interruptions. Another dimension can be breached, memories can be read like a book, but when it comes to dreams? That is an entirely different story." She smiled briefly as she watched the spreading corruption of the agent of chaos being reflected in the state of their environment. "Ah~ That won't do at all Erebus. Your words, your very presence seem to have given up already, which is tragic, truly tragic. Perhaps it was that which led to your very first mistake: 'Allowing' yourself to be captured."

She watched with a hint of fascination as Erebus refilled her cup, and after bringing it back to her lips she paused for a moment, her eyes returning their focus onto the vessel. "Is your legacy still truly there? You see, time can erase even the grandest of tales, and in due time even your accomplishments will pass away. You know this, and yet you are fine with accepting such an epilogue to your tale... Is it because you gave up the day 'his' story ended?"

Gently she lowered her cup back onto its holder onto the table and resumed speaking. "When Odin Morningstar was killed the consequences of that event rippled through society. But it affected you much more than you acknowledged before, didn't it? When was it? That you lost the one thing that was perhaps the very embodiment of your legacy? The thing that made you alive?"

Despite her cryptic message she rose from her seat and stepped in front of Erebus. While most would have looked at him with disgust, distrust or perhaps even fear the expression on this woman's face was different, entirely different: She smiled kindly at him, a gentle smile that one would easily link to the expression of the most benevolent of angels, and as she raised both of her hands in an attempt to gently hold his cheeks she whispered softly.

"Perhaps all you need is a little 'reminder'." She whispered softly as all of a sudden the dreamscape seemed to stir. No, this wasn't just Erebus's dream anymore, it was as if something from deep within him stirred. Memories of a familiar town, Baska? vivid images spread across the sky, of a man filled with ambition and dreams. Nothing could stop him, not just from expressing his gratitude to one who had been such an important part of his life, but back then he was a driving force that had a desire that could change- nay shape the very future of the world, right?

It was in that moment the battered and scarred agent of chaos seemingly had regressed back to these days, if at least physically. "You are correct: They plan to execute you, to make a example of these who oppose the crown. And yet wasn't it you who once said that the very concept of good and evil is flawed? That all it takes for a villain to become a savior is a change in perspective?"

She gently dropped her hands back to her side. "I will indeed be seeing you again during that moment should it come to that. But before it comes I would like to find something."

With a light snap of her fingers, the dream-like illusion cast over his own body seemed to falter and with a hint of curiosity in her eyes she inquired: "Tell me Erebus: Deep within that battered and worn-down shell. After all you experienced and did, are you truly content to end your tale here? Or... does it still burn within you? These small embers that were once a raging fire that could consume even the heavens and hells? Do you still possess an ambition, a desire to pursue? Or... did you and your legacy truly die?"

She gently folded her hands in front of her, a graceful motion as she spoke. "That is the information I came in search of~"

Erebus listened to the spirit, one he hadn’t discerned well. He figured he was dreaming so the questions drawn before him brought insight back. However, his clarity was always in the forefront of his mind. “You act as though the wicked have the conscious to grieve. Very well, if all you want is to know why— then I can give you your broken answers.” He started after a soft pause with his tone calm. “I learned from the dark mages who came before me. It is a phenomena that corrupts, and chooses its champions, and it has existed before me and will so after— the dark’s champion before me, was certainly the better. Unfortunately— the flaw for some of us, is that we do miss our friends.” Erebus allowed himself another short pause, as he brought a hand to his face where the girl pulled herself from. In this place his own movements were slow and so he couldn’t quite budge or control the flow-state, even if he was lucid and aware of the world and it’s magic. He opened his palm as he brought it before his eyes and rotated his wrist, his fingers shifted and then he squeezed— he could feel the blood in his veins and the warmth of the stream, as if to remind himself he couldn’t feel it at all and that things were as simple as forgetting— and yet he couldn’t. There was a mage who must have repeated this same movement many times, only— they truly couldn’t feel that blood, and the thought pained him somewhere in the void where his heart should be.

“If I am to be executed, I will smile at death. I will watch her walk away, and I will be there to catch the door when it slams.” He hadn’t concluded on that note— as he spoke again, clearly giving thought to message. “I can fear no evil, for I hath became him. I can fear no devil, because I am… For others, being a savior is plenty enough satisfaction and their roles will always carry their importance— I respect these souls even if I am not like them, not even remotely. But without the struggle and threat they experience by my hands or the next, their strong will grow weak and their peaceful times will mean for so much less.”

Images and scenery would change and liken them back to a point earlier and Erebus would see his efforts to ward off rune knights from Baska— in a time where they would let anyone be a knight and the repercussions hurt towns like Oak and Baska, perhaps one of the few things he did that was truly heroic by nature. In reality, Erebus had to clear that area out, as it was within Eternal Nightmare’s territory, and the country was being led by its guilds in the city-states during King Reign’s first year.

“Perspective has changed for me since I said those things, I suppose I am not the same Erebus as I was then— I do not believe in good and evil being one in the same anymore. There are two types of people, surely— the good who try to be bad, and bad which tries to be good. An honest person, knows the difference. Darkness doesn’t have to be evil, but it is the contrast of light and warmth, there is comfort in the sanctity there, in the peace of its proverb. I was named in the likenenss of that darkness. I protect the realm which has protected me. This path is not meant for the faint-hearted, but for some... It is the only path they will ever know.” Erebus, who was now talking more than he expected too— would go on a little more, hopefully— the information was enough for this spirit, and he could return to his isolation, the captivity of his concrete jungle; which was his home in these days— a just reward for his efforts, he thought.

“Whenever I met a mage— if they were impressionable and many were, I would always ask for their name… I would think to myself, this one would make a great rival for me.” The sound of wind echoing and chimes seemed to drift off the farmlands, a distortion of the reality as they knew it, a light flickered and the sun pushed against the aforementioned landscape, and showed the time of dusk to the two.

“I am the one who learns their names, and remembers them. My true ambition, I lived it.” Erebus finalized.

The spirit nodded her head attentively, judging from the slight smile on her lips she was glad he decided to answer her. As he spoke the mentioning of corruption and a champion made her lips curve up slightly. "Ah chaos~" It was indeed a force that corrupted, it could twist the minds, bodies and ambitions of even the greatest of mortals. "I wouldn't say he was the better. Some might claim that having friends, allies is a sign of weakness. That your reliance on them makes it seem like you'd lack the strength to function on your own. But surely you know better."

Indeed, there were many who had come before that claimed bonds, relationships were all detrimental to their ambitions. Friends could betray, a lover could be captured and used as bait. Yet... "But at the same time having someone on your side elevates the potential routes immensely, doesn't it? It all simply depends on the ally in question, of how useful they are, of how loyal they are, and finally: how easy you can dispose of them should they prove to be a threat."

Erebus his opinion on his execution disappointed her, even if she didn't show it. "You are correct: For the champions of men to mean something they always will need to have a struggle to overcome. Even now we see it: peace has made the champions docile, willing to just sit in their homes under the reasoning that as long as they are protecting their domain they are fine. The desire to grow stronger, the ambition to overcome the threats lurking in the shadows has become but a mere kindling."

Yet when the topic of Baska came up and Erebus his changed perspective He came to realize that good and evil were far more complex than before, notions, perspectives, opinions, So much that decided who was the hero and who became the villain.

"I see~" She brought a hand to her chin and smiled. "And yet despite learning their names you are content with watching your legacy fade away. After all surely you can expect the King and his followers to squander your legacy: force every mention of your existence to be erased from books and in time even the memories of those you met will disappear. I'm not exactly a fan of that Erebus."

Finally, she backed away, a mere step as she shook her head. "Your execution is not nearing, nay~ Your death will be by your own hand, your own choice. Deep inside I still sense that desire, that longing to see your tale continue. The awareness that your legacy is far from over."

She smiled gently, but soon corrected herself. "But as I mentioned before, you should be careful in picking your allies, and the best advice I can give you there is: don't trust me~ I am your benefactor, but that doesn't necessarily mean I'm your friend. But soon the time will come where you will be in need of help. Cornered, overwhelmed, and then, you will be given a choice: Accept the destiny forced upon you or defy it. Should you make your choice, we will meet again~"

The dreamscape started to shimmer and fade, returning them to the prison as the spirit faded away. "Ah~ You may call me Emilia. I am... an agent of Chaos if you that makes you sleep better at night~"

And then the spirit faded away entirely, leaving Erebus to ponder about the encounter he had just experienced. Yet as he was left to ponder Erebus would notice that on the back of his hand an enigmatic marking had been left. Some might think it was a tattoo of some sort, but there was clearly some sort of magic tied to it... but what remained to be seen.

"I see... Thank you for this,"

The words charged for him were calming, and the feeling of faith washed over Erebus as he'd heard them. He would not die, not really. He was more of lost, than dead-- and with the pale ghost,'s assistance, Erebus could trust that all in his path was laid out, presuming that he just need to be patient. He nodded to Emilia, as a burning feeling erupted over his palm, and he stared at three red, inverting lines. Erebus was frankly unsure what had happened, why they were drawn there. Yet, he had a feeling that they'd bestowed some power on him that wouldn't let him down when the situation was blooming for his next arrest or near death moment.

His place on the hilly, decaying, land-side started to wash away as if he were taken there through the mist. Suddenly he was surrounded again by four stone slabs, and a barrier on the opposite side of this chamber. This ascertained Erebus that he was not going anywhere, not anytime soon.

He let his back rest against the wall, lifelessly hanging him there while his vision scanned the lowlight of this chamber. He figured there may not be any words like that for awhile, and rather appreciated the company with the time he was allowed it. Now his curiosity has become his peak of center, the rogue begin to count his escape plans, his wit and wonder being the weapon he will have to rely on.

The further Erebus stored his beliefs from the light, however, the further he just seemed to be from a real escape. He thought back on the words spared to him by his angel of death, and how she ascertained her place among chaos. Something Erebus could appreciate as he was quite literally one in the same, not like the void. The reason Erebus was dark was about balance, and in this life you can only be assured of one thing.

When things are unbalanced, every fabric of life suffers as a consequence of this slight. That is why Erebus simply refused to grow closer bonds with others, the trade off for that balance, was less care for life where ever he went. Less guilt, and even the mental could resist less weakness when one's loved ones were on the line.

It seemed trivial to ruminate on that now. He was locked up for life. A deserted and forgotten champion. If there were anyone in Fiore he could rely on, it was probably, Zariya, but she couldn't be expected to storm this fortress. Erebus would need to work tooth and nail, constantly expending his energy to try and get out on his own. The disaster for him was that he was simply the most infamous criminal alive. The eyes... Were always trained and intent on him.

The fact that he was so carefully overseen, that might have alone been the issue he was facing. Maybe if he seemed... So much weaker .. he could manage to fool them all.

- Exit & End. -