The Trail of Doubt

Nearly everyone deserves a second chance, maybe even 3 or more, but never let them hurt who you are, those kinds of people deserve nothing.

Location: Gelu Hallow - Mysha's Mountain Cabin:

Blaidd jolted awake, his breathing uneven, cold sweat dripping down his forehead. His eyes darted around the small cabin--the flickering fireplace, the wooden table, the old rug, the snow outside. It felt... too real. And yet, something gnawed at him deep inside. A lingering unease.

He rubbed his face, exhaling sharply. "A dream?"

Or was it?

Moments later, the door creaked open. Mysha stepped inside, her hands full--one carrying a fresh deer carcass, the other a bundle of fish. Her face was warm, gentle.

"Blaidd! You're up," she smiled, setting the supplies on the table. "Took longer than expected to find these, but dinner's secured."

She glanced at him. "You okay? You seem... off."

He stood there, frozen. His thoughts raced. "Is this real? Is she real?"

Slowly, almost painfully, he stepped forward. His voice was hesitant, almost breaking.

"Mysha... are you real?"

She blinked, tilting her head playfully. "What kind of question is that? Of course I'm real. Are you okay? Had a weird dream?"

Her nonchalance only made the sinking pit in his stomach worse.

They cooked together in relative silence, but Blaidd barely touched his meal, lost in his spiraling thoughts. After some time, he stood up, gently pushing his plate away.

"I need to head back. They'll be wondering where I am."

He grabbed his coat, stepping out into the cold morning air. The snow crunched beneath his boots as he made his descent back toward Gelu Hallow. But only moments into his trek, he heard hurried steps behind him.

"Mysha?" he asked, turning.

She followed him closely, smiling softly. "I miss you. You've been gone so long."

Blaidd's patience snapped. He turned, his eyes narrowing.

"Who are you?" His voice was firm, demanding. "That is not something Mysha would say... especially to me..."

Her face twitched but remained composed. "I'm Mysha. Your friend... from the old village."

"Then answer my questions," Blaidd said, his tone ice-cold.

He fired off quickly:

"Who attacked our village?"

"I don't know exactly who," she answered.

"Who was our third in our trio?"

"Glonk," she smiled.

"How many years ago was it?"

"Like two thousand or so," she replied.

"What kind of magic did I use?"

"Ice Magic, obviously." She said, rolling her eyes.

"What kind of Magic did Glonk use?"

"Unknown at the time." She sighs.

Blaidd stared at her closely, raising one hand to hold the necklace around his neck--the one with the crystal pendant.

"...Who gave me this necklace?"

Her response was immediate, casual.

"It was me, you idiot. Now can we go back? I'm tired of these questions."

His blade flashed in an instant, cutting through her throat like slicing through silk.

Blood sprayed across the white snow.

As the body collapsed, Blaidd whispered coldly, "My Mentor gave me this..."

But as he turned away, lost in the turmoil of his emotions, the corpse began to shift. The skin turned pink, then red, then pitch black, revealing one of Zavren's Daemon shapeshifters.

It rose silently behind him, claws extending, ready to carve into his back.

At the last moment--

fwip!

--a stray arrow whizzed through the blizzard, striking the daemon's wrist and knocking its attack aside. The swipe narrowly missed Blaidd, leaving only a shallow scratch across his back.

He spun around instantly, severing the creature's hand with one clean slash, and following through with a decapitating strike. Its black blood stained the snow beneath.

Then, from the fading snowstorm, a figure emerged.

A soft, warm voice called out:

"Blaidd..."

He froze. His breath caught in his throat.

Mysha walked forward from the snowy fog, folding up her compound bow and slinging it across her back. The gentle light from the moon glistened off her pale hair as she approached the man in front of her.

The real Mysha stepped forward, lowering her bow. Her eyes wide, tears shimmering in them.

"Is it really you."

Blaidd dropped to his knees, unable to process the emotions flooding him.

"Mysha..."

And the cold mountains held them in that moment--between horror and relief.

Blaidd stood still, his breath fogging in the frigid air. His eyes locked onto hers, filled with conflict. His lips trembled, barely moving as he muttered something under his breath—a chant, too faint to catch.

His voice cracked as his mind spiraled. "W-what is this? Is there more? Is this some kind of trick...?"

His words tumbled into quiet whispers again, as he kept muttering an incantation through clenched teeth--each word charging the magic building beneath his skin.

Mysha stepped closer, placing her hand on his shoulder as her smile softened. "You're safe now, Blaidd..."

But in a swift, nearly invisible movement, she slipped one of his daggers from its sheath. Before he could react, the blade kissed his neck--slicing across it in a precise motion.

Everything went black.

And then--

He blinked, standing once again where he was at the start. The snow beneath his boots, the quiet morning air, the chill biting at his skin.

His mind churned. "They're toying with me."

The footsteps returned--light, practiced, almost playful. Mysha emerged again, her bow in hand, looking around like a hunter tracking prey. "Have you seen any deer nearby?" she asked sweetly.

Without hesitation, Blaidd's blade slashed through the air, severing her head instantly.

The headless body twitched for a moment, then shimmered--pink, then red, then black, revealing another one of Zavren's shapeshifters. He didn't even flinch.

But it wasn't over.

From over the snow-covered hill, more Myshas emerged.

Dozens.

Hundreds.

An impossible number of them, moving in synchronized silence. All armed. All smiling.

Their arrows lifted simultaneously.

A storm of death rained down.

Blaidd exhaled softly, his whispered chant reaching its crescendo.

A burst of radiant blue energy exploded outward.

His ArchAngel Form awakened--icy, ethereal wings stretching wide, light flooding from his chest as a glowing aura of frozen winds surged around him. The incoming arrows scattered like leaves in a gale, spinning harmlessly into the blizzard.

With a flash of speed, Blaidd launched forward, his daggers becoming an endless ribbon of silver light. He carved through the endless swarm of false Myshas, cutting, slashing, slicing--all with surgical precision.

One clean, continuous strike.

Bodies fell and the snow turned crimson.

Yet amidst the devastation, one remained.

Silent and watching.

The final Mysha lunged, grabbing Blaidd by the head. The moment its hand touched his skull, his vision spiraled.

Memories flooded him:

- Jin creating portals.

- Rikushi training with his saber, laughing.

- Hoshina sitting by the fire, watching him train.

- The Nova Concordia Nexus.

- The War.

- The Vault.

The creature wasn't just attacking.

It was searching.

It was hunting for them.

But before it could finish, a massive ice spike erupted from beneath its feet, piercing straight through its body. The creature convulsed, its grip releasing from Blaidd's head as it dissolved into blackened ash.

Blaidd, panting heavily, tried to regain his footing.

But then--

From the top of the hill, a different figure appeared. Taller and more composed than the clones. Its aura pulsed with intelligence and malice.

The figure calmly approached him, stepping over the fallen bodies.

Before Blaidd could react, it placed its hand gently against his forehead.

FLOOD.

Visions, Thoughts, and corrupt Whispers.

A sea of information poured into his mind.

He staggered.

His eyes fluttered.

And darkness swallowed him whole.