The Visitor- Chapter 2

In the dead of the night, Gryce made his way towards the church. Or so, what he believed to be the dead of night, without the sun out his sense of time was mismatched. There were people out but something told him he shouldn't base his assumption on this fact.

 Going against Elizabeth's wishes already put a sour taste in his mouth but the unbridled urge to look inside had bothered him since she had mentioned it last night. Just a peak, just a tiny silver as to what was inside was all he needed to satiate it.

When he had snuck out, she was still dead asleep. It amazed him how she could trust or maybe not even care that a stranger was sleeping just next to her. Back home he could never get over that sense that the person closest to him could at any moment attack. He was glad Elizabeth didn't strike him as a person who would do this. But the idea still stuck on him like a cancer.

Surprisingly whatever looks he had been receiving yesterday were nonexistent. Instead he found himself looking at them closer than before. Particularly the ones with white hair which in the moonlight's embrace shined like no other. 

Cutting in front of him as he approached the church was Marie. Both of them visibly surprised looked at the church, realizing immediately that both had come for the same thing.

"So you're interested in the faith?." Marie asked which couldn't be further from the truth. Religion wasn't his foret. Not one bit.

"Wouldn't say interested just… curious of how it looks inside."

"Well, then it's a good thing I bumped into you then. The church is closed for another three hours." Three hours huh?

"I guess I'll be back in three hours then, see yah." As he turned around she stopped him grabbing his hand "What is it?." Gryce sneered.

"Wait here, I want to show you my shop."

"You have a shop? Is it owned by your parents?."

"Mhm, I cut hair there, Well we all do but I'm a rising talent." 

"Rising talent, I sure hope humility doesn't run through the family. What are you gonna do?."

"I just need to grab some things from inside. I'll be right back." Got nothing else better to do anyway. Guess I'll wait.

"Sure I'll be out here."

She gleefully pranced towards the door, as it opened only a slight glimpse of candles came into view and someone further inside on their knees. their figure being covered in the candle's light.

"So much for not being open." He said, shoving his hands into his pocket. 

He looked off into the coast. A faint memory of when he washed ashore was reminded of him with the distant strike of blue lightning striking down further on the horizon shining the sky with a bright blue. The only shred of light the sky would be getting for a while.

The sound of rushing waves becomes louder, and more visceral with each passing second. The smell of the ocean and its weight dragging him further down made a welt form in his throat, taking all he had not to let loose a stream of vomit. His hand shaking as he drew his hand out of his pocket, only being stopped by the sudden voice of the chapel door being closed.

"Alright, I'm back," Marie said her voice coming from the entrance of the church.

" Yeah… Took you long enough, it's freezing out here." He rubbed his hands together following behind as she led the way. Taking one last look towards the shore, with one last time the scent of the ocean catching him.

The entrance of the Salon was brightened by two small light posts on both sides of the door, shining a wooden sign with the word "Salon" carved into it. Before Marie had the chance to open the door it swung open, if not for her immediate step backward would have knocked her over.

"Where have you been?." A middle-aged woman with black hair and a ponytail walked outside grabbing her by the shoulder. Must be her mom. She had a wrinkled face that was not from old age but from her constant frown she maintained. Deep line running the side of her nose to the ends of lip were like a trench, so much so her mouth almost resembled a mask. Like he had take it off if he tried. Though he would never think of attempting it.

He leaned on the building crossing his arms. If not for his curiosity he would have walked away. Getting involved in family matters wasn't something he aimed at jumbling into.

"I was… trying to find him!." She pointed at Gryce, he waved as they made eye contact. Liar.

"Aren't you the Visitor?." She asked shooting him a hostile look.

"Yup… I'm him." He said a chill going down his spine as she approached him.

"What the hell are you doing around my daughter? What's your relationship with her?." He held his hands up backing away as she stopped an inch away from his face.

"Listen, how about I just go alright? Not supposed to be here anyways." As he walked away he was stopped when an old lady walked in front of him. It was Rebecca.

"Oh, good morning Gryce." She said walking towards the door, stopping before she fully entered. "Everyone inside."

Gryce looked towards the mother. She sighed storming inside, grabbing Marie by the arm, and mouthing off "Sorry" as she was dragged away. He reluctantly followed in soon after, Rebecca leading the way. Something told him resitingg would just cause more problems.

Inside the Salon was lined with four chairs on each side with a long continuous mirror spanning from one end to the other. Marie and her mom sat off in the corner talking quietly while Rebecca turned to the right sitting down on one of the linen chairs that leaned just below the window sill.

"Come and sit," Rebecca said, leaving the chair nearest to the door open.

"Okay." Sitting down, his eyes fixated on Marie's mom. He noticed her shooting quick looks at him from the mirror closest to her. In her eyes, he was unwelcome, if not for Rebecca he would have been. Nevertheless, besides the occasional strained look, Gryce appreciated seeing such a protective parent even if Marie didn't. 

"Sorry, my granddaughter dragged you here. Marie can be pushy sometimes but she enjoys it here. Like's cutting hair, just like her dad."

"Is…he still in the picture?" Gryce

questioned. Was it to soon to ask that? He wondered regretting even bringing up the subject. It was an intrusive question but considering he'd seemingly met the whole family there was a piece missing he'd like to confirm was perminet or not.

"No…" She looked down to the floor, a forced smile wearing her like a mask. "He passed away before she was born. A chance encounter with one of the forest beasts does that too many. " She sighed. "He was about your age. Though you look nothing alike."

 Gryce fidgeted with his fingers, picking off pieces of loose skin. "Sorry…if that was insensitive to ask. Should have thought about it more." He murmured. 

"You couldn't have known, it's fine. She assured him, placing her hand on his shoulder. Her gaze looked elsewhere in the Salon. He couldn't pinpoint where, perhaps at Marie? Growing up without a dad surely must've been difficult for her. He knew how it felt to live without one and as a result of it a life of fruitlity followed. He was glad she seemed to have a led a better path.

"When he passed it was the church that saved me. I experienced his love, its caring hands in a dream. I have been a devout follower ever since." She let go of his shoulder and reached into what he assumed to be an inner pocket in her Jacket pulling out a black book with words on the cover that to Gryce looked like squiggly lines. "This here." She held it closer to him, shoving it in his face, smoldering him. "This here is the gospel that connected me to him. I'll let you borrow it if you'd like."

" No, no thanks I'm good," Gryce said, getting increasingly uncomfortable. "I'm not a very religious man you see."

"Oh, that's what everyone says. Then after taking just a look inside, their entire worldview expands!." After a few seconds of processing the excessive rambling coming out of the old woman, the only word that he could come up with to describe her was "Nutcase." She reminded him of one of the loonies that would carry signs spreading the word of humanity's demise promising salvation before they submit. The only difference was this seemed like a major religion. Half- no, more than half of the populace here must have believed this. He could only take so much more until his respect waned thin. 

"How about I just get a copy for myself? Wouldn't want to take away something so important to you." 

She placed her fingertips to her lips and said, "Oh my," placing the book back inside her inner pocket. "Already I see the making of a beautiful relationship between you and the idol."

"Yeah… yeah thanks. Glad… I have what it takes." Gryce said laughing nervously. I want to leave.

Quickly he scrambled for ways to change the subject, landing on, "What's her mom's name." an unfortunately shallow topic.

"Oh her…She's Mallory… Mallory Winslow." She talked about her in a way unbecoming of someone as old as Rebecca. An obvious bitterness towards the women who by all appearances cared about Marie. But, knowing what he knew now about the grandmother, the reason could have simply been a disagreement in faith. A shallow reason for family quarrels. Gryces opinion of her lessened with each passing second and so did his opinion of the church.

"That's no way to talk about family." Gryce scolded, not attempting to hide his frustration.

"Family?." She gasped, sounding offended that he would utter such ridiculous accusations."Please, if it wasn't for Marie she wouldn't even be in the picture. There's something even stronger than family and that is faith. That's where true power resides."

"Why can't it be both?" He clenched his fist and bit his tongue. Afraid at any second he would break. Family was meant to be cherished. Right now Rebecca was distracting that cardinal rule that im his eyes transcended whatever plain Toblitche resided in.

"You're talking like a blasphemer. I would quit while you're ahead." Before he had the chance to respond, the door swung open and a man barged in, Rebecca striking up upon his arrival. 

"What is the meaning of this visit!." She shouted, the old woman in a slow stride strutting towards him. A humorous display, like a waddling penguin. It was hard for him to take her seriously anymore.

"The church." The man said out of breath his hands clasped on his knees.

"Speak! What about the chapel?" After a few seconds of erratic breaths, he spoke, the words striking Rebecca like the news of family passing.

"The church is on fire!." She hurried outside.

They followed soon after.

It had been consumed by hellfire. A bright red flame cast over the large plane of land the church laid upon. As if the sun had miraculously awakened, the snow near the range of the raging fire quickly turned into a slippery mess and then disappeared into the atmosphere in the next second.

Worshippers fell on their knees watching as their place of prayer collapsed closer to the realm it belonged to. Tears flew down, their wails just barely being able to pierce through the crackling flames. 

It was hard for him to sympathize with the group of people. Rebecca's performance had soured any way he could understand their grief. Fake people, trying to sway others into their own demise, whoever decided to light the church on fire must have agreed.

As he walked closer to the flame the heat struck him, his skin burning from just the slight exposure. This wasn't a normal fire.

"Agh!." Gryce yelped backing up his skin buring even with the sizeable distance between him and the fire. Making how close the worshipers were to the flame impressive, weird, and almost unsettling. They had to have felt something. Yet, many might as well have been sitting right next to the flame from how close they were. 

 Marie watched from the sidelines along with her mother. Both had blank expressions, unimpressed, disconnected from the overall despair Ichemound's worshippers were experiencing. Especially considering Marie herself was a worshiper. Not an ounce of her moved, not a shred of anger, or resentment. If seen by anybody else her faith would come into questioning. 

"Who did this!." Rebecca shouted in a voice disconnected from her outwardly old, friendly appearance. "Which one of you fuckers did this! Jealous of the love he's given us? You're dammed! It was the one with white hair, wasn't it? Tell me it's true or I will find the culprit myself! "

 Only the sound of the crackling flame responded followed by a gust of howling wind. She cast her attention towards the fire. A loose piece of wood fell from above, a small kindling of fire with it.

No one stopped her as she grabbed the scolding piece of wood. Her hands visibly turned a bright red as the fire destroyed all the layers of skin she still held. A boiled mess of flesh seeped from her clenched hand. Ash falling from the gaps, the stench of Miasma making a sharp return.

Gryce pinched his nose and backed away. The worshipers rose and looked at what would have been the roof of the chapel. At its pinnacle the Eye of Rendition still stood high, its metal still a dark black, a shrewd gaze looking not down on the populace. But, most likely to the one who purged the sacred idol. The moment was broken, a presence large and beast-like.

What are you doing here?" A familiar voice said. A large man with a wild appearance. 

"Just… strolling," Gryce responded hesitantly.

"Just strolling huh." Shane didn't buy it. "Well, you better get back. If Liz knew you were here, I wouldn't hear the last of it."

"She's still asleep?

"Oh yeah. Won't be up for another few hours. So go on, shoo shoo." 

"Alright, alright I'm going." He'd overstayed his visit anyways. Not getting involved with the church really was the best advice anyone so far had given him.

He hurried away taking one last look back, noticing Marie was no longer next to her mom. She was nowhere to be seen.

Most of the people who ran past him carried large pales of water, some even carrying a long rectangular bowl that two people on both ends had to lift. They all came from a large fountain that was off to the right of town. Through the thin veil of smoke, he could see the outline of it, and what looked like a statue in the center of it. Only making out, an arm and a leg, along with the outline of people still pailing more and more water. It seemed like nothing they did satiate the fire, if anything as he turned back, the fire must have not stopped at the church but carried by the wind. More of the sky continued to become red.

Once he arrived at her house, he was relieved when no lights could be seen through the window. Slowly he opened the door, going inch by inch until he was able to slide through closing the door as he was finally in.

It was pitch black, before where the moonlight shined now obstructed by the still-growing fire and the smoke that followed with it. It was quiet, just the sound of his footsteps pressing against the wooden planks was heard and the only way of advancing was by running his fingers along the wall until he could get back to his sleeping bag. 

Darkness wasn't something he was bothered by. Back home there were nights which only his memory and wits helped him traverse the darkest corner of the city. He took pride in his resilience. Yet, still, in this darkness, anxiety crept its way through. 

Gryce stopped when his hands brushed against something sticky. As he put his finger up to his nose, the strong scent of iron struck him. His attention drew on the bed.

Through the veil of smoke outside a second of moonlight made its way through. Creeping from the window sill, continuing towards the headboard stopping at her pillow. It was stained with red. Instantly the moonlight drew back as if yanked away.

Whatever was on the bed was hurt. He was sure of that. It wasn't Elizabeth, It wasn't her. He didn't want it to be her.

His mind raised, but at the same time, it was blank. Thoughts so rapid and unclear an audible response was impossible. A reaction was just as feasible. At that moment something stepped behind him. An imposing weight and height, a heat irritating from its being.

There were no options, not now. Something stood behind him, something he couldn't see, something he'd rather not see. But it was tall, and its presence reminded him of a bear.

He didn't have to open his mouth, the moment he could even construct any sound was interrupted by the low thud of Gryce falling to his knees holding his chest a cold sharp object wrapped around his finger.

In the next second, a searing pain coursed through his body. With the sharp object leaving his hand adrenaline kicked in and the reality of what had happened came to light.

"Guh…" He tried to breathe.

"Guh… guh." 

Gryce attempted to turn his head. A boot to the abdomen struck his side another gasp followed by a stream of blood dribbling down his mouth, pooling at his cheek. The moonlight once again showed itself. Stopping at his chest. His body was dyed red. It's hurts

He closed his eyes, tears flowing down his cheek. It hurts so much. He grabbed the figure's boot. It was standing in the pool of blood. Please kill me. Please. Gryce let go, his hand going limp. 

His strength was dwindling, and so was his chance at a new life. Yet, that didn't matter to him. He was angry. Not for what happened, not even for what he was sure now happened to Elizabeth. He was angry that they couldn't even show themselves. Not have the decency to end his suffering.

"Who are you," Gryce said, making the last bit of his strength to form words through the gurgling blood.

"Who…Are…Yo-." 

Then it occurred. A transformation of colors In an instant tore down the walls and now was became one uniform red. The four walls including the ceiling and floor became one, turning into one singular unit.

In his last moments, the image of the Eye of Rendition stood before him. In the flesh. It was hideous, the inside of its pupil was infinite. Images spanning further in time, farther than anyone could grasp all carrying the same fiery red feature. A large burning tree, a near-infinite hole with sparks of red near its core, and an enclosed city on the brink of destruction.

Abruptly stopping on an image of the shore from the perspective of the clouds he'd seen when he had arrived. Peaking through the small rift of the dispelled clouds, through a hole barley large enough to see the ground below, to see the man who was looking right back at it. In his last moments, he heard an incomprehensible phrase. Only the words, three-month winter are understood. Gryce Harlington, in his last moments, wished death upon it. This life was over. The countdown began.

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Darkness treads along the land, driven by familiar gusts of piercing wind. Rivers begin drawing back, aware of the rolling black clouds that replaced the once-white sky. In a flash of light, striking from the heavens onto the ground below lightning struck in pairs of two and then three, and in its final smite it birthed a welcomed visitor. Washed ashore upon Ichemound domain, a man given new life.