Chapter 63: Noctyra

  I reawakened at Checkpoint #1 – at the edge of the Void, just before I jumped down.

  True to my request, Goren had killed me painlessly.

  Seeing how I had already obtained everything I needed from down there, there was no reason to dive again. Goren would be waiting – but he could keep waiting. I didn’t care. Eventually he’d see that the Razor Basilisk wasn’t there anymore.

  He had said he wanted to show me something, but after his stunt in the Pit, I don't even want to listen to what he has to say. Even his concern about me getting marked was probably fake.

  Speaking of marks – I needed to get the hell out of here before the whistling returned.

  ***

  Not knowing exactly where the danger would emerge from, I climbed the metallic ladder – or what was left of it after the Razor Basilisk had attacked me earlier.

  The moment I reached the fragile section of it, the ladder ripped away from the wall.

  Immediately, I activated Flight, carrying myself to the nearest floor.

  My goal was the fourth level, where the First Circle Priestesses resided. It was closer than the second level, where the study chamber supposedly was.

  Before using Flight to ascend higher, a sudden thought crossed my mind.

  Vestiges of Time.

  With Temporal Trace now at level 9, I should be able to create my own Vestiges of Time, right?

  I had learned so much in this run – it would be disastrous if I died and forgot everything. When - not if…

  Okay…but how did I actually create one? Where were the instructions?

  I focused, mentally commanding for something to happen. But nothing did.

  I sighed heavily.

  Chronos, why is everything in your System so unclear and difficult?

  Just when hope was about to abandon me, a message appeared.

  [Temporal Trace lvl.9: To create a Vestige of Time, you need a Vestige Shard]

  [A Vestige Shard could be any non-consumable item in your possession]

  Oh, finally. Something to work with. Thank you.

  Any non-consumable item I have, huh?

  Before checking my inventory, I decided to try something. I grabbed a rock from the floor. The System naturally recognized it as Rock, meaning I could proceed to the next step.

  Which was…?

  As if responding to my thoughts, another message popped up.

  But it wasn’t exactly what I was expecting.

  [A Personal Vestige of Time is born from a memory you’ve experienced in your current run]

  [The memory is chosen randomly]

  [Current Vestiges in Use: 0 | Current Limit per Run: 1]

  [Do you wish to create a Personal Vestige of Time?]

  [YES/NO]

  I mean, at this point, I don’t think I should even get disappointed.

  If it was going to be something as good as the description said it would be, then Chronos might as well just hand me all my lost memories outright. If user-created Vestiges of Time worked without limits, the Déjà vu System subtle progression would be lost.

  Still, some memory was better than nothing.

  I mentally selected YES.

  [A Personal Vestige of Time had been created]

  [Item Acquired: Personal Vestige of Time #1 – Added to Inventory #2]

  Curious to see which random memory had been chosen, I tried interacting with the new item – only for another message to shoot me down.

  [You can only witness Personal Vestiges of Time on consecutive runs from when they were created]

  Of course...

  ***

  Reaching the fourth level, I exited the secret chamber by pulling the lever and stepped into the corridor.

  Now…where do I find the First Circle Priestesses’ chambers?

  I moved carefully through the level, checking every chamber I came across and eliminating any monster on sight, gaining 8,948 XP in the process.

  Then, I found what I was looking for.

  At the far end of the level – right next to the staircase leading deeper down – was a chamber.

  Inside, it was much larger than I had anticipated.

  A massive stone table stood in the center, covered by a thick layer of dust. Surrounding the chamber, pressing against the walls, were stone platforms – ten in total. They looked like crude beds.

  So…ten First Circle Priestesses in total?

  Considering that the Second and Third Circle Priestesses had transformed into that shapeshifting monster, I dreaded to think what had happened to the First Circle ones.

  There was no way they had just died of old age here.

  No.

  Lysandra definitely had an evil plan for them as well.

  And I was sure I’d find out what it was soon enough.

  Inside this empty chamber, one thing stood out.

  At the far end, resting on one of the stone beds, was an item faintly glowing with a purple aura.

  Curious but wary of an ambush, I activated Distance Gauge, scanning the surroundings.

  When nothing came up, I cautiously stepped forward.

  The item was a…crown?

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Twisted toots and gnarled twigs wove together to form its shape, their blackened edges looking almost burned – no, that was dry blood. Jagged shards of bones of different sizes were entwined within, lookimg as though they’ve grown there naturally.

  The sight of it sent a shiver down my spine.

  It felt like it was dripping with malice – and worse…Darkness.

  As I stared, the System reacted.

  [Temporal Trace: Time Plane Memory #1 - Available]

  A Time Plane Memory?!

  I only had two of the five. And there it is – the third one. Or rather, judging by its label…the first one, chronologically.

  Curious and excited, I touched it, plunging myself to yet another memory from the faraway past.

  ***

  [Time Plane Memory #1]

  A boy – no older than twelve – knelt on the ground, seated before a low table. With a parchment in front of him and a quill in hand, he worked diligently, his strokes skilled and controlled.

  The morning sunlight streamed in through the windows, accompanied by a gentle wind that brought forth the scent of fresh grass.

  Yet, in contrast to the warmth of the weather, the boy himself was cold. His hair was jet-black, his eyes even darker and detached, his expression unreadable – disinterested, as if he would rather be anywhere else. He had a birth mark slightly under his right shoulder – its shape weird and unnatural. It was as dark as his hair - even darker.

  But what he was writing…turned out to be a drawing.

  Not just any drawing, but a wolf.

  A creature so meticulously detailed that its black fur seemed to ripple, its piercing eyes glinting with life – until…it actually was alive.

  The wolf hopped off the parchment, materializing into reality. It circled the bored boy, its movements predatory, as if it wanted to attack him.

  And then, it did the unthinkable.

  It lowered its head, pressing its nose into the boy’s lap, licking his hand playfully.

  The boy’s icy expression softened for the first time – just slightly. A weak smile flickered across his lips as he ran his hand over the wolf’s face.

  “I’ll draw a whole pack for you. Just you wait.” He whispered, scratching behind the wolf’s ear, making its tail wag in joy.

  “Using your magic for foolish games again?” a voice called out from behind him.

  A young woman – perhaps even still in her teens – stepped into the room.

  She looked stunning, and yet…undeniably harsh and ruthless.

  The boy rolled his eyes at the sound of her voice. “I’ll do what I want, Lysandra.”

  Her expression turned angry instantly. Clearly, she did not appreciate his casual use of her name. “Don’t you dare disrespect me, child.”

  “Or what?” the boy replied, his voice laced with boredom.

  The wolf beside him let out a growl aimed at Lysandra. But the moment her gaze fell upon it, the creature whimpered – then turned and fled.

  “Now look what you did.” The boy muttered, shaking his head.

  Lysandra clenched her jaw. “Noctyra…” She seethed through frustration. “I am tired of your attitude. Do you think I enjoy this arrangement any more than you? This is our duty. You know yours, and I know mine. Stop making it so difficult.”

  The boy didn’t look at her. Instead, he rested his head against his palm, his quill already moving again.

  “I’ll do what I want, Lysandra.” He repeated, dismissing her as ink met parchment once more.

  Lysandra was fuming at this point.

  “Listen here, you little shit!” she snapped. “I don’t care that you’re Father Spurius’ son. I don’t even care that I was personally chosen to take care of you and teach you the ways of magic. You will respect me, child!”

  “Then perhaps you shouldn’t have killed my mother?” The boy replied nonchalantly.

  The words flipped Lysandra’s switch.

  With a sharp motion of her hand, a wave of ice surged forward, instantly encasing the boy in a thick layer of frost.

  Yet, despite the apparent triumph, Lysandra didn’t smile. Because she knew she had failed.

  The frozen figure inside the ice suddenly vanished – and then, from behind her, came his voice.

  “Cool trick.”

  She turned sharply.

  The boy was now seated on the sofa, casually flipping through the pages of a book. “Anything else, or is that it for your monthly visit?”

  Lysandra’s anger didn’t fade. She still looked like she wanted to kill him. But she didn’t. Perhaps…she knew she couldn’t – in more ways than one.

  Taking a deep breath, she spoke. “I don’t like keeping you here all alone. I know you’re bored and lonely. But it was your decision, Noctyra! Your decision to refuse joining your Axul brothers and sisters in our villages.”

  The boy didn’t even look up.

  “The Axul are not my brothers and sisters.” He muttered, eyes still buried in the book. “I’m not Noctyra, and I’m not Axul. I’m – “

  Lysandra cut him off immediately. “You can’t deny your bloodline, child. Your father was the first mage of the world, a remarkable man. And you’re his son, whether you like it or not.”

  The boy finally raised his gaze. His eyes burned with hatred.

  “And my mother was a regular woman. One he raped.” The book in his hands burst into flames. “I’ll never be an Axul.”

  Lysandra smiled at his reaction. “And yet it was your father’s direct order that I protect and teach you. He left an order specifically to me before his death - "

  “Yeah, yeah.” The boy cut in, his tone tired. “I know, Lysandra, I know. You’ve already told me this before. And I already told you – I don’t care.”

  He stood up and moved to the window, staring out at a world just beyond his reach.

  “I don’t care if he saw the future. I don’t care if there was some divine reason for him to conceive me at such an old age. I don’t care about any of it or any of you.” His fingers curled into a fist. “Now release your magic’s hold on me so I can leave this place already.”

  Lysandra chuckled. “Like I’d let you leave.” She paused, then tilted her head slightly. “But let’s say I did. What would you even do? Where would you even go?”

  The boy sighed. “Anywhere.” He whispered. “Anywhere, as long as it’s away from you…and his plans for me.”

  Lysandra burst into laughter – sharp, cruel, sadistical, almost maniacal.

  Whatever magical hold she had over the boy, it was clearly her trump card.

  “You’re not going anywhere. You're father didn't fake his death and conceived you for nothing.” She said, grinning. “You have a grand role to play – one your father made you for. You’ll rot in here, all alone. The boredom, the loneliness…they’ll eat away at your mind, breaking you, little by little. And me?” She chuckled. “I’ll keep visiting. Month after month. Eventually, I’ll even take Venezia’s place as High Priestess, but even then, I’ll still come here…until you finally change your mind. Until you return to your true home. To the Axul. To be the heir that was promised.”

  The boy didn’t respond. He didn’t even turn to face her.

  Lysandra smirked, watching his silence with amusement. Then, before leaving, she threw one final remark over her shoulder. “I left your monthly supply of food in the kitchen. See you next month, child.”

  He remained standing long after she had left. Unmoving. Expressionless. His hand was still clenched into a fist at his side.

  Slowly, he reached toward the open window. The moment his fingers crossed the threshold, an invisible force – glowing green – shocked him. His arm jerked back, the force repelling him violently.

  He didn’t flinch, but his hand was burned, the wound and bleeding spreading across his palm and wrist, leaving his skin torn.

  Yet, he simply stared at it, watching as the injury healed before his eyes.

  Finally, he turned away and left the window.

  He walked toward the table, reaching for the parchment. The second drawing was of a woman. She had long, flowing hair and a mole beneath her left eye.

  Once again, his art was breathtaking – every detail precise. He wasn’t just a powerful mage, he was a genius artist.

  Then, he suddenly left out a quiet, broken sob, clutching the parchment to his chest.

  “Why can’t I bring you to life?” He choked out. “Why can’t I make you alive like I can with everything else?”

  A howl echoed from outside, calling for his attention.

  The boy lifted his head, wiping his eyes as stepped back toward the window.

  Below, the wolf he had created earlier stood waiting. Its eager eyes locked onto his, tail wagging slightly, its posture full of energy – an invitation to play.

  “I can’t leave the house.” The boy murmured, his voice still filled with grief. "I'm a prisoner here."

  Surprisingly, the wolf seemed to understand. It stepped closer to the window and lowered its stance. Lightning suddenly crackled around its form.

  Then, it howled again – this time stronger, sharper, a forceful shockwave erupting from its throat.

  The house shook, the front wall cracked, its foundation trembling under the wolf’s power.

  “Stop! It won’t matter – I still won’t be able to leave!” The boy called out, and his creation immediately stopped.

  The wolf paced back and forth, as if strategizing. Then, once more, lightning crackled around his body, and it lunged at the window.

  The invisible barrier reacted instantly, sending it tumbling backward. It hadn’t stopped the wolf from leaving before…but now it was denying his return.

  “Stop!” The boy called out. “It’ll kill you! Just leave me be!”

  But the wolf didn’t listen. It was too loyal – likely how its artist had wished it to be.

  It leaped again, its body pushing against the barrier, battling the green force that held it in place. Electricity crackled and fur ignited as the wolf pressed on, writhing in agony, yet refusing to back down.

  The boy couldn’t watch anymore. He reached out. The barrier burned his hand again, searing his flesh, but he pushed through the pain, stretching further, desperately trying to grab hold of his creation - to save it.

  And then…he succeeded.

  A violent eruption burst from the barrier, sending them both flying in opposite directions.

  The boy hit the ground hard, but as he pushed himself up, and walked toward the door, he realized – he could finally step outside.

  A feeling he hadn’t known in years rushed through him – freedom.

  He stepped into the green pastures surrounding his and his mother’s house, the scent of grass and earth filling his nostrils.

  For the first time in so long, he was outside.

  But the joy was short-lived.

  As he looked to his side, his heart sank. His companion – the loyal wolf – lay collapsed in the grass, its body badly burned, its injuries severe. It was breathing heavily.

  “No…” the boy muttered, rushing to its side, hands trembling as he tried to reverse the damage – but nothing worked. Nothing could worlk.

  The wolf’s body shuddered beneath his touch. It had given everything for him.

  Tears welled up in the boy’s eyes as he wrapped his arms around his creation, holding it tightly.

  And then, with a quiet whisper he said his goodbyes.

  “Thank you.”

  He let go.

  And ran.

  Never looking back.

  [Time Plane Memory #1 – END]

  ***

  [Item Acquired: Time Plane Memory #1 – Added to Inventory #2]

  [Quest Updated: Memories From the Past]

  [Collect the 5 Time Plane Memory Fragments]

  [Current Status: 3 / 5]

  [Reward: 75,000 XP]

  As the memory faded and I returned back to reality, only one thing bothered my mind.

  That child…Noctyra...it wasn't Kelltins.

  Do you use the Glossary while reading the story?