This was the place known as Morgate. To think that a place such as this was once a town. Its destruction had been perfect, with nothing left save the ruins of buildings to attest to the fact that sometime in the past, people lived here. People has said that the former inhabitants were good people, but then a dark guild had blasted them off the face of the map with experimental weaponry. The graveyard of a place was naturally shunned by almost everyone, save looters with either an eye for money that overruled their common sense, or a death wish disguised as a sense of bravery. It was a natural environment of poison and death, but here, the Pestilence Devil Slayer could get some well needed respite from the rest of the world and all its noise.
Belladonna avoided any sign of human presence like the plague, keeping to the shadows and meandering through the town-wide wasteland. As she expected, there were only a handful of scattered scavengers about, and staying undetected was quite easy for her, even without the use of her magic. Ultimately, she found herself at what was once an important building, due to its size and structure. Perhaps she could find a comfortable spot therein to meditate. Therefore, picking her way through its ruins, she proceeded in. It had lost most of its roof, and not many walls stood tall, but something that piqued her interest was a cellar door, mostly destroyed, but still guarding the passage into a below-ground room. Perhaps it was borne purely out of the desire to explore a forgotten subterranean vault (okay, perhaps not that deep to be termed such), or it offered a better chance of being protected from external intrusions, Belladonna could not say. All she knew was that the thought appealed to her, and she crossed the threshold and descended the stairs.
The cellar was deeper down than she had expected. Maybe it doubled as a panic room, which one could hide in from the elements. Whether it had faithfully carried out its duty or not did not matter, anyway. The occupants of this place were long gone. That thought brought Belladonna back to thinking about dark guilds and just how far they went to get what they wanted. It was no wonder that people feared and hated them vehemently. After all, nobody liked to be the prey. It was also common belief that every member of a dark guild was a rotten soul to the core, who killed, and raped, and destroyed without caring about the implications or the rights of others. Belladonna did not believe she fell into that category, even if she was part of a dark guild. And no matter what people thought about her, she cared not, as long as her conscience was in the right place.
There was no way she would do such an evil thing as the Basilisk Fang guild had done...
”Do you really think so?” a voice suddenly asked in the darkness, a challenge to her unspoken thoughts.
Belladonna whirled round, then stopped short. There in the gloom, sitting on a barrel, was an elderly man in a black hooded robe. He had a pale spectral glow emanating from his body, and as she peered more closely at him, she noticed that he was translucent; she could see some of barrels that were on the other side of his body. ”Some people would have attacked instinctively. I’m actually pleased to see that you haven’t gone bloodthirsty, despite the company you keep.”
He looked very familiar, and that voice... it belonged to someone she knew. Someone who had died.
”Gethin?” she asked, even though she knew the answer.
”And you have not forgotten me,” the ghost said with a smile. ”That is very heartwarming.”
Belladonna did not return the smile. ”Why are you here?” she asked.
”Hmph, you’ve become a lot more sullen, I see...” Gethin’s apparition replied with a mock scowl. ”And you haven’t changed since the last time I saw you up in Hakobe,” she answered, though a hint of softness had crept into her voice. Still, she was wary. ”My question remains unanswered, Gethin.”
The ghost sighed, after muttering something about how imperious she had also become. ”Well, I am here, and at the same time, I am not exactly here. I am a figment of your imagination, yet empowered by my will and the bond we had while I lived.”
”I remember you saying you would try to guide me as much as you could, even when you were gone...” Belladonna said pensively.
”And here I am.”
Belladonna sat down on another barrel, ignoring the dust that marked her clothes. ”So, you have come to guide me. I am thankful, Gethin. Yet, I must ask, why am I in need of guidance at this very moment? I have been in the need of your counsel in times past, yet you never appeared.”
”I can only appear when you are most in thought, most wrapped up in your memories and mind that I can reach out to you. And when the distractions are least, I can take form. But, like I said, I am only a figment of your imagination.”
”That sounds like I’m losing my touch with reality, then,” Belladonna intoned, her voice introspective, but not without a tint of humor.
”The mad always blames their actions on the madness, even if they do not suffer from it. Man always loves to pass the bulk.”
”Don’t worry, Gethin. I hold myself accountable for all my actions.”
”That is good to hear, child. But tell me, who are you accountable to?”
That gave Belladonna a pause. It was not a question that one such as herself, on the wrong side of the law, could answer truthfully in haste. ”I have my standards which I will not cross,” she said slowly.
Gethin nodded. ”Yes... such as your promise not to shed innocent blood.” A silence passed between them, before he spoke again. ”But what happens when you break that oath?”
”I shall not!” she replied hotly.
”Perhaps. But your drive for power is very strong. People like you eventually drop their standards sooner or later.”
”Perhaps you know very little about the girl you trained, Gethin,” Belladonna answered cooly.
”And is that so?” Gethin responded, as he rose to his feet. The hems of his robe blended with the darkness and expanded, engulfing the both of them in an inky smoke. But almost immediately, it cleared, and Belladonna found herself in an open field, surrounded by cheering Fiorans. It was exactly how a dream felt; like one was both spectator and participant. And she could hear Gethin’s voice in her head. ”The fall of anyone is a subtle process, child. I you’re your confidence in yourself, but is it well grounded?”
Her attention turned from his voice to the hailing mob, and she felt their adulations flow through her, energizing her body and filling her with energy. ”You are descended from a divine line, and as you know, every god seeks a worshipper.” As the power flowed through her, she wanted more of it. An ebb felt like a weakening blow, something she felt she could barely do without. No, it had to keep coming. And still, it was not enough. Soon, the exhilaration became common; she had become used to it... and she wanted more. It was like she was a vampire, craving the blood she did not have, drinking but never being sated, wanting more just when she felt she had had her fill. Whether it had been by her power or her actions, she had gained a group of followers, and now, all that seemed to matter was that she had more followers.
”A point comes in the life of a ‘god’ that rises from humanity, when they ascend to become ‘divine’. Human laws and needs are unimportant. What matters is that they are worshipped.”
Belladonna felt she had become more powerful. And it was true. Her worshippers moved to the tune of her thoughts. A mere inclination in her mind birthed the most fervent response from her people. And as her lust for the adulations of men grew, her worshippers began taking her will out to others. They began by telling and praising, which soon became coercions, and finally war. War, all on account of the power she wanted. Belladonna felt horrified at the thought of people being killed needlessly on her behalf, but she couldn’t help herself. She just had to have more.
”No! I am better than this!”
She couldn’t take it anymore. This was against all that she believed her morals encompassed. She would guard her thoughts, stop her people from making war, and become a benevolent goddess everyone would seek shelter with. Surely, there were other ways she could earn their love and affection. She would force herself to accept the ebb in power; it was not as important as doing the right thing. And for a time, she succeeded, so that even though her power waned, she was more loved than she was feared.
Then he appeared. A war god, powerful and brutal, relentless and unforgiving, and Belladonna watched with horror as his religion began to take root and overthrow hers. Once more, she was faced with the choice of riding on the zeal of her people to attain power, or seek peace at her own expense. As she struggled with her thoughts, the war god was upon her, sword drawn, having invaded her domain. She was powerless to stop him, because her worshippers were few. His foot was on her throat, his sword poised to drive into her heart, and she was faced with the same decision: take power at the expense of the innocent, or suffer shame, humiliation and ignominy at the hands of the war god. Her body desperately screamed for the power she had lost, and she felt her will giving way.
”NO! This is not who I am! I don’t have the love or adoration of anyone, so how could I possibly attain to such a status?”
Suddenly, she found herself in the old forgotten cellar, alone with the ghost of Gethin. ”You could force people to love you. You have the power to do it. Or, you could get them to do so by your chivalrous deeds...” Belladonna cut him off. ”I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, Gethin, but this is not my path. I am more a demoness than a goddess to most, anyway, so this hardly applies to me.”
Gethin gave a sinister chuckle. ”Is that so? Very well.”
The darkness turned to smoke once again, obscuring the features of the room... then, suddenly, a hand broke through the inky mass and gripped her firmly by the throat. She struggled to free herself, but it was in vain. As the darkness fled into a dull twilight, she found herself staring into the evil eyes of the entity she simply knew as the Overlord. He was larger than she remembered, and oozed power and terror from his body. She rained assault upon assault on him with her magic, but it washed over him like the waves of an ocean upon an unyielding rock. With a laugh that chilled her bones, he flung her to the ground and dug a finger into her side. Terror filled her mind, driving all rational thoughts from her mind, as he began to torture her. She struggled, she fought, she even pleaded, but the agony only intensified geometrically.
All that mattered was to escape.
But she wasn’t strong enough.
And then, a thought came. If she sacrificed someone close to her, she would gain more power, and could break the Overlord’s grip. She resisted the thought, despite her torment. Being directly responsible for the death of an innocent person was a thing that she never wanted to be guilty of. But the pain continued, and the thoughts kept coming. She could hear the Overlord boasting about how he would not destroy her until he had obliterated everything she considered dear. And the thoughts came again. The Overlord would kill everyone, so they would be dead, anyway. If she sacrificed just one person, it would be for a good purpose; she could save the rest. Besides, her sacrifice of that one person would spare the person from a more terrible fate at the hands of the Overlord. At that point, all her acquaintances and friends, everyone alive with whom she had shared a fond memory, appeared. And the voices came again: the sacrifice had to count. She had to choose the one closest to her.
”Beira... I’m sorry,” she mouthed, as a tear streaked down her face.
At that moment, the darkness cleared a little further, and she could see so many people, locked in cages, in the Overlord’s torture chamber. They were all alive, but in pain. As she watched, she saw her blonde Utgardian friend suddenly spasm and drop dead. As Belladonna’s eyes widened in horror, she felt a dark power leave the corpse of her friend and enter her body. Rage against the Overlord filled her heart, and she fought against the massive hand that pinned her down.
Yet, it was not enough.
The voices returned: more sacrifice! Free the others from the Overlord, but you must give up one more.
She had no choice. It had to be done. Either way, if she was not freed, the others would die. She remembered her friends once again, and as another tear escaped her eye, Zachary died. She became stronger, but it wasn’t enough. The Overlord still had power over her. More sacrifices had to be made.
And Nathaniel was next.
As those she could call her friends died, her power increased exponentially, but the Overlord was still stronger. Yet, there was some hope: she could feel her power slowly rising to meet his. Still, more lives had to be given in exchange for that hope.
”I’m sorry... I promise I will avenge you all...”
One by one, the people in the cages dropped like flies, and her salvation drew nearer. Yet, it was never enough. And then, she realized that in order to defeat the Overlord once and for all, she had to sacrifice everyone in the cages. Everyone. Babies, toddlers, children, women, men. She had already lost those that mattered. The only thing that would bring her joy would be to kill the Overlord. And so she closed her eyes one last time, and sacrificed.
Everyone died.
And Belladonna rose.
Brimming with bitter energy, she pummeled the Overlord again and again, until he begged for his life. Her mind was too full of hate and anger to hear him, though. She ensured that he died the most painful death she could afford him, then set out on his followers. As she slaughtered them, someone called for help from the Rune Knights. They came, and tried to calm her down, but failed. So, they tried to restrain her.
And they died.
And Belladonna did not stop, until the entire land was a field of blood and corpses. And all she did, while crying luminous blood, was to wail, and laugh, and wail again.
”Being ‘more of a demoness’ does not grant you immunity from being directly responsible for the death of the innocent.”
Gethin’s voice was like a knife that cut through to her howling mind, and she found herself back in the cellar. Her hands were trembling, so she gripped her knees tightly to stop them from doing so.
”What the heck was that, Gethin?”
Gethin’s voice had a tone of warning. ”The truth to what you are capable of.” His voice became gentler. ”Like you said earlier, that is not who you are, but you must take heed to yourself that you do not lose yourself in the darkness, while fighting for the light.”
Belladonna exhaled slowly, finally back in control of her shaking arms. ”It still felt like me, though. To think I could...” her voice faltered.
”The future can still change, Belladonna. But the paths must be made today.”
The apparition walked past her and towards the stairs. ”I must bid you farewell, now, as I cannot persist in the world of the living for long. You’ve come a long way since the last time I saw you with my physical eyes. I was proud of you, then. And I still am, now. I hope to be proud of you, when next we meet.”
And with those words, he was gone.
Belladonna remained in the cellar long after the ghost had departed, ruminating on the events of her visions. Although she wanted her former mentor to be satisfied with whatever she would become, the most truthful response she could give to his final words were:
”Let’s hope so, Gethin. Let’s hope so.”
Belladonna avoided any sign of human presence like the plague, keeping to the shadows and meandering through the town-wide wasteland. As she expected, there were only a handful of scattered scavengers about, and staying undetected was quite easy for her, even without the use of her magic. Ultimately, she found herself at what was once an important building, due to its size and structure. Perhaps she could find a comfortable spot therein to meditate. Therefore, picking her way through its ruins, she proceeded in. It had lost most of its roof, and not many walls stood tall, but something that piqued her interest was a cellar door, mostly destroyed, but still guarding the passage into a below-ground room. Perhaps it was borne purely out of the desire to explore a forgotten subterranean vault (okay, perhaps not that deep to be termed such), or it offered a better chance of being protected from external intrusions, Belladonna could not say. All she knew was that the thought appealed to her, and she crossed the threshold and descended the stairs.
The cellar was deeper down than she had expected. Maybe it doubled as a panic room, which one could hide in from the elements. Whether it had faithfully carried out its duty or not did not matter, anyway. The occupants of this place were long gone. That thought brought Belladonna back to thinking about dark guilds and just how far they went to get what they wanted. It was no wonder that people feared and hated them vehemently. After all, nobody liked to be the prey. It was also common belief that every member of a dark guild was a rotten soul to the core, who killed, and raped, and destroyed without caring about the implications or the rights of others. Belladonna did not believe she fell into that category, even if she was part of a dark guild. And no matter what people thought about her, she cared not, as long as her conscience was in the right place.
There was no way she would do such an evil thing as the Basilisk Fang guild had done...
”Do you really think so?” a voice suddenly asked in the darkness, a challenge to her unspoken thoughts.
Belladonna whirled round, then stopped short. There in the gloom, sitting on a barrel, was an elderly man in a black hooded robe. He had a pale spectral glow emanating from his body, and as she peered more closely at him, she noticed that he was translucent; she could see some of barrels that were on the other side of his body. ”Some people would have attacked instinctively. I’m actually pleased to see that you haven’t gone bloodthirsty, despite the company you keep.”
He looked very familiar, and that voice... it belonged to someone she knew. Someone who had died.
”Gethin?” she asked, even though she knew the answer.
”And you have not forgotten me,” the ghost said with a smile. ”That is very heartwarming.”
Belladonna did not return the smile. ”Why are you here?” she asked.
”Hmph, you’ve become a lot more sullen, I see...” Gethin’s apparition replied with a mock scowl. ”And you haven’t changed since the last time I saw you up in Hakobe,” she answered, though a hint of softness had crept into her voice. Still, she was wary. ”My question remains unanswered, Gethin.”
The ghost sighed, after muttering something about how imperious she had also become. ”Well, I am here, and at the same time, I am not exactly here. I am a figment of your imagination, yet empowered by my will and the bond we had while I lived.”
”I remember you saying you would try to guide me as much as you could, even when you were gone...” Belladonna said pensively.
”And here I am.”
Belladonna sat down on another barrel, ignoring the dust that marked her clothes. ”So, you have come to guide me. I am thankful, Gethin. Yet, I must ask, why am I in need of guidance at this very moment? I have been in the need of your counsel in times past, yet you never appeared.”
”I can only appear when you are most in thought, most wrapped up in your memories and mind that I can reach out to you. And when the distractions are least, I can take form. But, like I said, I am only a figment of your imagination.”
”That sounds like I’m losing my touch with reality, then,” Belladonna intoned, her voice introspective, but not without a tint of humor.
”The mad always blames their actions on the madness, even if they do not suffer from it. Man always loves to pass the bulk.”
”Don’t worry, Gethin. I hold myself accountable for all my actions.”
”That is good to hear, child. But tell me, who are you accountable to?”
That gave Belladonna a pause. It was not a question that one such as herself, on the wrong side of the law, could answer truthfully in haste. ”I have my standards which I will not cross,” she said slowly.
Gethin nodded. ”Yes... such as your promise not to shed innocent blood.” A silence passed between them, before he spoke again. ”But what happens when you break that oath?”
”I shall not!” she replied hotly.
”Perhaps. But your drive for power is very strong. People like you eventually drop their standards sooner or later.”
”Perhaps you know very little about the girl you trained, Gethin,” Belladonna answered cooly.
”And is that so?” Gethin responded, as he rose to his feet. The hems of his robe blended with the darkness and expanded, engulfing the both of them in an inky smoke. But almost immediately, it cleared, and Belladonna found herself in an open field, surrounded by cheering Fiorans. It was exactly how a dream felt; like one was both spectator and participant. And she could hear Gethin’s voice in her head. ”The fall of anyone is a subtle process, child. I you’re your confidence in yourself, but is it well grounded?”
Her attention turned from his voice to the hailing mob, and she felt their adulations flow through her, energizing her body and filling her with energy. ”You are descended from a divine line, and as you know, every god seeks a worshipper.” As the power flowed through her, she wanted more of it. An ebb felt like a weakening blow, something she felt she could barely do without. No, it had to keep coming. And still, it was not enough. Soon, the exhilaration became common; she had become used to it... and she wanted more. It was like she was a vampire, craving the blood she did not have, drinking but never being sated, wanting more just when she felt she had had her fill. Whether it had been by her power or her actions, she had gained a group of followers, and now, all that seemed to matter was that she had more followers.
”A point comes in the life of a ‘god’ that rises from humanity, when they ascend to become ‘divine’. Human laws and needs are unimportant. What matters is that they are worshipped.”
Belladonna felt she had become more powerful. And it was true. Her worshippers moved to the tune of her thoughts. A mere inclination in her mind birthed the most fervent response from her people. And as her lust for the adulations of men grew, her worshippers began taking her will out to others. They began by telling and praising, which soon became coercions, and finally war. War, all on account of the power she wanted. Belladonna felt horrified at the thought of people being killed needlessly on her behalf, but she couldn’t help herself. She just had to have more.
”No! I am better than this!”
She couldn’t take it anymore. This was against all that she believed her morals encompassed. She would guard her thoughts, stop her people from making war, and become a benevolent goddess everyone would seek shelter with. Surely, there were other ways she could earn their love and affection. She would force herself to accept the ebb in power; it was not as important as doing the right thing. And for a time, she succeeded, so that even though her power waned, she was more loved than she was feared.
Then he appeared. A war god, powerful and brutal, relentless and unforgiving, and Belladonna watched with horror as his religion began to take root and overthrow hers. Once more, she was faced with the choice of riding on the zeal of her people to attain power, or seek peace at her own expense. As she struggled with her thoughts, the war god was upon her, sword drawn, having invaded her domain. She was powerless to stop him, because her worshippers were few. His foot was on her throat, his sword poised to drive into her heart, and she was faced with the same decision: take power at the expense of the innocent, or suffer shame, humiliation and ignominy at the hands of the war god. Her body desperately screamed for the power she had lost, and she felt her will giving way.
”NO! This is not who I am! I don’t have the love or adoration of anyone, so how could I possibly attain to such a status?”
Suddenly, she found herself in the old forgotten cellar, alone with the ghost of Gethin. ”You could force people to love you. You have the power to do it. Or, you could get them to do so by your chivalrous deeds...” Belladonna cut him off. ”I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, Gethin, but this is not my path. I am more a demoness than a goddess to most, anyway, so this hardly applies to me.”
Gethin gave a sinister chuckle. ”Is that so? Very well.”
The darkness turned to smoke once again, obscuring the features of the room... then, suddenly, a hand broke through the inky mass and gripped her firmly by the throat. She struggled to free herself, but it was in vain. As the darkness fled into a dull twilight, she found herself staring into the evil eyes of the entity she simply knew as the Overlord. He was larger than she remembered, and oozed power and terror from his body. She rained assault upon assault on him with her magic, but it washed over him like the waves of an ocean upon an unyielding rock. With a laugh that chilled her bones, he flung her to the ground and dug a finger into her side. Terror filled her mind, driving all rational thoughts from her mind, as he began to torture her. She struggled, she fought, she even pleaded, but the agony only intensified geometrically.
All that mattered was to escape.
But she wasn’t strong enough.
And then, a thought came. If she sacrificed someone close to her, she would gain more power, and could break the Overlord’s grip. She resisted the thought, despite her torment. Being directly responsible for the death of an innocent person was a thing that she never wanted to be guilty of. But the pain continued, and the thoughts kept coming. She could hear the Overlord boasting about how he would not destroy her until he had obliterated everything she considered dear. And the thoughts came again. The Overlord would kill everyone, so they would be dead, anyway. If she sacrificed just one person, it would be for a good purpose; she could save the rest. Besides, her sacrifice of that one person would spare the person from a more terrible fate at the hands of the Overlord. At that point, all her acquaintances and friends, everyone alive with whom she had shared a fond memory, appeared. And the voices came again: the sacrifice had to count. She had to choose the one closest to her.
”Beira... I’m sorry,” she mouthed, as a tear streaked down her face.
At that moment, the darkness cleared a little further, and she could see so many people, locked in cages, in the Overlord’s torture chamber. They were all alive, but in pain. As she watched, she saw her blonde Utgardian friend suddenly spasm and drop dead. As Belladonna’s eyes widened in horror, she felt a dark power leave the corpse of her friend and enter her body. Rage against the Overlord filled her heart, and she fought against the massive hand that pinned her down.
Yet, it was not enough.
The voices returned: more sacrifice! Free the others from the Overlord, but you must give up one more.
She had no choice. It had to be done. Either way, if she was not freed, the others would die. She remembered her friends once again, and as another tear escaped her eye, Zachary died. She became stronger, but it wasn’t enough. The Overlord still had power over her. More sacrifices had to be made.
And Nathaniel was next.
As those she could call her friends died, her power increased exponentially, but the Overlord was still stronger. Yet, there was some hope: she could feel her power slowly rising to meet his. Still, more lives had to be given in exchange for that hope.
”I’m sorry... I promise I will avenge you all...”
One by one, the people in the cages dropped like flies, and her salvation drew nearer. Yet, it was never enough. And then, she realized that in order to defeat the Overlord once and for all, she had to sacrifice everyone in the cages. Everyone. Babies, toddlers, children, women, men. She had already lost those that mattered. The only thing that would bring her joy would be to kill the Overlord. And so she closed her eyes one last time, and sacrificed.
Everyone died.
And Belladonna rose.
Brimming with bitter energy, she pummeled the Overlord again and again, until he begged for his life. Her mind was too full of hate and anger to hear him, though. She ensured that he died the most painful death she could afford him, then set out on his followers. As she slaughtered them, someone called for help from the Rune Knights. They came, and tried to calm her down, but failed. So, they tried to restrain her.
And they died.
And Belladonna did not stop, until the entire land was a field of blood and corpses. And all she did, while crying luminous blood, was to wail, and laugh, and wail again.
”Being ‘more of a demoness’ does not grant you immunity from being directly responsible for the death of the innocent.”
Gethin’s voice was like a knife that cut through to her howling mind, and she found herself back in the cellar. Her hands were trembling, so she gripped her knees tightly to stop them from doing so.
”What the heck was that, Gethin?”
Gethin’s voice had a tone of warning. ”The truth to what you are capable of.” His voice became gentler. ”Like you said earlier, that is not who you are, but you must take heed to yourself that you do not lose yourself in the darkness, while fighting for the light.”
Belladonna exhaled slowly, finally back in control of her shaking arms. ”It still felt like me, though. To think I could...” her voice faltered.
”The future can still change, Belladonna. But the paths must be made today.”
The apparition walked past her and towards the stairs. ”I must bid you farewell, now, as I cannot persist in the world of the living for long. You’ve come a long way since the last time I saw you with my physical eyes. I was proud of you, then. And I still am, now. I hope to be proud of you, when next we meet.”
And with those words, he was gone.
Belladonna remained in the cellar long after the ghost had departed, ruminating on the events of her visions. Although she wanted her former mentor to be satisfied with whatever she would become, the most truthful response she could give to his final words were:
”Let’s hope so, Gethin. Let’s hope so.”
Word Count: 2824
