“Poor child,” a feminine voice crooned in the dark, echoing in the space making it feel massive. The tone sympathetic, pitying, like this woman felt bad for her. But there was something else about it, impossible to put a name to, but it set her teeth on edge. Like when you meet someone for the first time, and you don't know why, but you just find them off putting. There's no obvious reason but you just can't shake the feeling. Then, a few months later, you find out they were acting creepy to someone or doing something illegal. It was that gut instinct. And it was saying this woman was dangerous.
“W-who are you? Show yourself!” she shouted into the void, silently cursing the tremble she was unable to keep out of her voice. The woman giggled, it was light yet playful and felt like a knife was being slowly scraped along a raw nerve.
“Don't be afraid my little one. I mean you no harm,” an odd clopping sound echoed in the space, bouncing back and forth as if coming from every direction at once. Then it coalesced in front of her. The darkness seemed to part, like a curtain, and a figure strode out. It was impossible to make out any of their features as they wore a pitch black chadri. It appeared to shimmer with constellations as the stranger moved, and covered them completely from head to toe. “I am your friend. But you may call me the Countess,” the unnerving woman's voice was clear despite the black veil shrouding the Countess’s face.
“What do you want from me?” she tried to make her voice sound as demanding and intimidating as she could. But even without being able to see the Countess’s face she knew the attempt failed miserably. Another grating laugh emanated from beneath the veil.
“Oh, no you misunderstand. I’m not here to take, I’m here to give,” the Countess extended her arms out, as if miming handing her a present. It was with this motion she caught a glimpse of a hand emerging from the billowing sleeves. They were skeletal thin, the skin covering them was like ink stained parchment, and at the tip of every finger was a jagged long black nail. No, nail wasn't the right word, they were more like talons or claws, something a predator would have.
“And why should I believe you?” it was a reasonable question and made sense. No stranger that approached you in the dark, offering gifts no strings attached, was ever a good person. The Countess crossed her arms, tapping a black claw on her veil were a chin would be.
“To be perfectly honest dear, what other choice do you have? Continue floating here in this endless nothing?” and that was, unfortunately, a very reasonable answer. She really didn't have any other options. That being the case, what really was the harm in hearing her out?
“Fair enough. In that case, what exactly are you here to give me?” although she couldn't see the Countess’s face she could feel a smile growing under the dark veil.
“I think you know child. You had something taken from you, something precious. Irreplaceable,” a lump formed in her throat at the Countess’s words. Was that referring to her memories? It had to be, nothing else made sense. But how did this woman know about that? Had the Countess been watching her? No, that was impossible, right? But the more she thought about it the more certain she became.
“You mean my memories. You can . . . bring them back?” she spoke carefully, doing her best to leave no trace of emotion in her voice. The less leverage this woman had the better.
“My dear, of course I can! That's why I’m here!” faux sympathy dripped from the Countess’s voice. So eager to offer her help, but why? What could she possibly gain from this? Nothing about the woman screamed altruistic. There had to be a catch.
“What do you get out of this?” she decided the direct option was the best as beating around the bush was a waste of time. The Countess folded her hands together in a mock pose of sincerity, the illusion ruined by her terrifying claws.
“I have a . . . personal interest in you. I do not agree with what Ignis does to you poor souls,” the voice from beneath the veil dropped its pleasantries and turned cold and rasping, “He calls himself ‘father’, smiles to your face and lies about his intentions. Acts so sincere, says that he cares about you, yet is so cruel. Stripping you of all that you are. Your potential!” the Countess spat out the last words, venom dripping from them. Her seething hatred of Ignis was plane to hear. But why? What had he done to her to earn such vitriol? Had he taken something from her too?
“Did he do that to you?” she couldn't stop herself from asking. Maybe she was wrong about the Countess, there could be more to the story then she knew. There was a beat of silence. Just when she was sure her question would go unanswered the Countess spoke.
“In a manner of speaking,” The Countess stroked her veil thoughtfully, her voice far quieter than before, “There are many truths in this world, most of witch you will never get a chance to glimpse. But perhaps one day that shall be a truth you have the chance to learn,” the Countess threw her arms wide as if to go in for a hug, taking a few steps forward, “But that's not important right now! Please, come to me my dear. Let me heal your soul,” her words were like honey on a hot knife.
She floated closer to the Countess, not sure if it was her own will propelling her or some weird magic. Everything about this felt wrong, her instincts were screaming at her to run, but there was nowhere to go. And what if the Countess was telling the truth? What if she really could get her memories back? Desire overpowered instinct and she did not fight the pull. They were brought face to veil, despite being so close there was nothing but inky black behind the mesh were the Countess’s eyes should have been. A razor sharp claw gently stroked her cheek.
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“There, there child. Stay still now,” the Countess’s voice was syrupy sweet as tendrils of shadows lashed out from the void. They wrapped around her wrists and ankles forcing her body into an odd ‘x’ shape, fear surged through her, “This won't hurt . . . much,” the sweetness dropped from the Countess’s voice entirely, replaced with a tone of amusement, like the idea of her pain was entertaining.
A hum resonated all around them, it made the air feel charged, almost electric. A strange blue hued light shown down on her restrained body, like a spotlight. It drew her attention upward and she found that directly above her were two intersecting pyramids, one pointing upward and the other down. They looked like they had been carved from obsidian, but also looked somehow transparent. The black tendrils lifted her upward, stopping when she was in the center of the merkabah, before it slowly spun around her.
Looking down she could still clearly see the Countess who watched her intently. Clawed hands raised, making circular motions in the air. The spinning grew faster, and sparks erupted from the pyramids, striking her limbs' and torso. Each one sent waves of white hot electricity surging through her. It felt like her whole nervous system was being set on fire. She opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out, her chest and diaphragm seized up from the pain, like she had the wind knocked out of her.
Her skin grew hot and it felt like worms were writhing underneath it. It was like being pulled apart cell by cell and she was powerless to do anything. This had been a mistake, she ignored her instincts and was reaping the result. The Countess let out a hiss of frustration and made various complex gestures with her clawed hands, as if writing something in the air.
“Stubborn fool! We made a deal! I just don't understand why he must make things so difficult!” then a high pitched sound rang out from under the Countesses veil, it sounded like a strange cross between a falsetto note and a screech. The air in front of her warbled and shimmered and a wooden staff appeared, it looked like a old twisted branch of wicker.
The Countess held the staff out in front of her, scraping it along the ground three times. The low hum that filled the space was slowly replaced by a new sound. Chanting. Frozen from the pain and unable to move more then her eyes, she was just able to see shadows convalescing at several of the points of the merkabah. The shadows morphed into strange dark robed figures, who held their hands up, palms facing her. The chanting was coming from them, a mix of spoken words in a language impossible to place, and melodic humming.
As the figures chanted the pain doubled in intensity, her head snapped back, mouth agape in a silent scream. It felt like liquid metal was being injected into her veins and her whole body trembled. The chanting grew steadily louder, beams of light erupted from the palms of the cloaked figures, striking her center mass. Watching the strange ritual she saw the figures weren’t just channeling light from their palms. Strange symbols spiraled around the beams, and all of it burrowed its way into her body. It was too much, the heat, the pain, the mounting pressure that felt like she was about to explode.
Just when she was certain her body would be obliterated into atoms, she was pulled inward. Then she saw it. The blank spaces that had been left in her mind started to fill. Slowly the paper thin memories drifted back, wadded up like discarded wrappers, they gently unfurled themselves. The process was painfully slow, as if afraid they would tear if it was done too fast. But as she watched she realized something was off.
There were scorch marks, some of the memories appeared fairly clear, just slight charring on the edges. But others were much darker, details or large chunks obscured by the dark spots, and there were even some that were so blackened it was impossible to make them out. Everything was out of order too, the memory of her fifth birthday next to the day she graduated college.
It was like a gust of wind had scooped up her memories and scattered them, and someone had haphazardly gathered them together again but had no idea where they went. The whole thing was a mess of old and new memories, key moments and anecdotes thrown around with no care. Taking a closer look she realized there were obvious holes were some were missing all together. She reached out, trying to make sense of it, put some order to the throne together images but she felt herself pulled back to the present.
Once again aware of her surroundings she realized the chanting had stopped. The cloaked figures had dropped their hands, the beams of light gone, and they dissolved into shadows. She was lowered to the ground by the black tendrils before they also returned to the dark. As soon as her feet made contact with something solid she collapsed in a heap. Maybe it was due to being suspended in the air for so long, or the prolonged pain, but her limbs felt like jelly. No matter how hard she tried they refused to move.
All she could manage was to just barely lift her head up. Doing so, she found the Countess was looming over her maybe a foot away. The sight of the black veiled woman filled her with rage.
“W-what the f-fuck did you d-do to me?!” her voice was shaky and raw, as if she had been screaming this whole time despite no sound coming out. A hoarse cough racked her body, making her shake and sending waves of pain through her. The Countess laughed, and for the first time it sounded genuine, it radiated cold and mirth.
“My dear, I only did as I promised. I restored what was taken,” a black clawed finger tapped at her veil, “Well, some of it anyway. Ignis’s magic certainly is a force to be reckoned with. I’m afraid I don't quite have the power to fully reverse it yet,” she then spread her arms in a shrugging motion, sounding no more concerned then if she had misplaced a pen. “But what I was able to do will be enough for you to serve my purposes.”
“What? The h-hell are you talking about?” a sinking feeling hit her. She could tell there was more going on, but how did she play into all this? What did the Countess want from her?
“Still so fiery! I’m happy to see you haven't lost that fighting spirit of yours! Gods know your going to need it for what I have planned,” the Countess clapped her boney hands together like an excited child.
“Planned? W-what are you talking about? I want answers!” the Countess threw her veiled head back and let out a laugh, the sound sent shivers down her spine. if death could laugh, that was what it would sound like.
“Oh my! You cant even stand yet you still have the gall to make demands of a being like myself! I really am so glad I chose you!” the words felt like a lead weight was dropped in her stomach. That couldn't have been right. She had to have misheard.
“What?” her voice was barely a whisper, the question not even directed at anyone. The Countess chose her? Was that how she ended up here? But why? The Countess knelt down beside her, head tilted in a sympathetic gesture.
“Yes, that's right my dear. I called you hear, as I call all Player Souls. I am the Countess of Players, and all Player Souls belong to and obey me. Serve me well and I will restore the soul I borrowed back to its original plane of existence. Everything will be as it was. As long as you obey.” her head was spinning. there were too many questions to count.
“W-what? B-but- I-” she couldn't form the words, her heart hammered in her ears, then the Countess hushed her. Gently stroking her cheek with one claw. Her touch cold as ice.
“Now, now, no more questions. I have a schedule to keep and so do you. Wouldn't want to be late for your birthday, would you?” with that the Countess stood, waving her staff in one hand the other making a series of complex gestures. The ground underneath them rippled and started to sink like pitch black quicksand. Her body still refused to listen as she struggled to worm her way out. But her efforts were in vain as she was drawn closer to the gaping pit. She looked up at the Countess and all she could feel was hatred. Serve her? Fuck that, she wasn’t some pawn in whatever game that was being played. She didn't know how or when, but she promised herself one day she would punch that bitches lights out.
“No need to look so cross my dear. Best to save that energy. You’ll need it where you’re going,” even without being able to see the Countess’s face she knew the woman was smiling. She sank further and further down, never taking her eyes off the Countess. Black tendrils snaked up her body attempting to drag her down faster. As she finally lost sight of the veiled woman she heard her say one last thing. “Ta ta. I’ll see you soon,” then everything went black. And off in the distance was the sound of crying.
