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The Shrine calls to you

You enter a room, a very large, wide, open room. There are several columns, grey pillars on each side. In the center is a wide pillar, and around it are seven pedestals. You notice each of them have a plaque on them. There are three familiar statues.

Ruin

[ Examine the Plaque ]:

Paranoia

[ Examine the Plaque ]:



Longing

[ Examine the Plaque ]:


The next four pedestals are still empty.


Anguish


Vanity


Malevolence


Affliction




You will face your final task and become something greater.


The fog awakens again. Someone is calling. You don't see it, you feel it. You hear it but inside of you, from your very existence. It beckons and whispers to you. It welcomes you towards it.

It is white around you. Fog. You were once this fog, a cauldron of thoughts and broken memories churning over and over together eternal limbo. Now it seems oddly still. It is quiet. No memories.

A door awaits in front of you, and on it is inscribed a single sentence:

Offer to us your Heart.

There is no other choice. There is no turning back, not when you are so close. The whispers of the Goddesses, their promises, speak to you, tantalizing. You have come this far. You cannot return down the same path you came, especially not one that has already become undone.

You feel yourself moving forward.

Slowly, one step at a time. Your Heart, your memories belong to them, after all. This is the last task, and then you will become something far greater. This is your last journey-

- "Will you give up so much-

- "-when you have experienced so little in return?"

The red sky churns, and then splits apart. Equal amounts of green and gold break through it, in strides of lavish beauty and simple imagination. Branches curl into the moon, growing odd pieces of foliage, gold filigree borders, the outline of a crown tearing into the other end, devouring the red. The result was nothing but an oddly twisted, convoluted sky, as if each colour was vying against the other, fighting a three-way battle.

The result however is immediate. You no longer feel consumed by red. Your mind is at peace, and so are the few memories, your memories you have gained. You remember something important, that your current name is not your true name, that you have a true name-

- But you cannot remember it, quite yet.

The sky quivers and threatens to tear further apart as the earth below you changes. Ruined grey buildings turn to large, dense pieces of foliage, before warping to a brilliant, shimmering castle in the distance. Towers, gates erupt from the base of the Shrine, the ground becomes ornate and marbled. The foliage grows thicker, tree roots spinning wildly, out of control, consuming the red-

- You are faced with a choice.

"Choose Destruction, and you will rain chaos upon all those who choose to defy you."

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You have chosen Destruction. In your eyes, the green foliage and gold gates begin to dwindle and fade until all you see are the familiar buildings of Ruin. The crown is waiting for you. You move forward and place one hand against your Heart.

Tearing into it is a terrible feeling. Some part of you regrets this decision, some part of you is still struggling, but by now, the choice is no longer yours. Each struggle breaks apart a memory.

A small memory of emotions.

A greater memory of experiences.

You finally tear your Heart out. It is far greater than you ever could have imagined, and now it belongs to Destruction. You step forward and offer it, one step, a second step, a third.

"You have made the correct choice. This is the end for you, but the beginning for me. Your sacrifice will not be in vain."

You have no Heart and it hurts. You Have no Heart and the last of your memories slowly trickle away from you, slowly, piece by piece. You remember snippets of things, memories, fragments that surprise you even. Figures talking to you. Figures shouting at you. Figures shouting something, your true name as they run towards you, as they shake you-

- As you close your eyes and simply fade away.

"Choose Pride, and your legacy will become unforgotten."

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You have chosen Pride. In your eyes, the green foliage and ruined temple begin to fade until all you see is are marbled floors and a rich, golden throne in a long, gold hallway. The crown is waiting for you. You move forward and place one hand against your Heart.

Tearing into it is a terrible feeling. Some part of you regrets this decision, some part of you is still struggling, but by now, the choice is no longer yours. Each struggle breaks apart a memory.

A small memory of emotions.

A greater memory of experiences.

You finally tear your Heart out. It is far greater than you ever could have imagined, and now it belongs to Pride. You step forward and offer it, one step, a second step, a third.

"You have made the correct choice. This is the end for you, but the beginning for me. Your sacrifice will not be in vain."

You have no Heart and it hurts. You Have no Heart and the last of your memories slowly trickle away from you, slowly, piece by piece. You remember snippets of things, memories, fragments that surprise you even. Figures talking to you. Figures shouting at you. Figures shouting something, your true name as they run towards you, as they shake you-

- As you close your eyes and simply fade away.

"Choose Creation, and you will obtain greater knowledge."

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You have chosen Creation. In your eyes, the green foliage and ruined temple begin to fade until all you see is thick greens, branches and vines and leaves. The crown is waiting for you. You move forward and place one hand against your Heart. You move forward and place one hand against your Heart.

Tearing into it is a terrible feeling. Some part of you regrets this decision, some part of you is still struggling, but by now, the choice is no longer yours. Each struggle breaks apart a memory.

A small memory of emotions.

A greater memory of experiences.

You finally tear your Heart out. It is far greater than you ever could have imagined, and now it belongs to Creation. You step forward and offer it, one step, a second step, a third.

"You have made the correct choice. This is the end for you, but the beginning for me. Your sacrifice will not be in vain."

You have no Heart and it hurts. You Have no Heart and the last of your memories slowly trickle away from you, slowly, piece by piece. You remember snippets of things, memories, fragments that surprise you even. Figures talking to you. Figures shouting at you. Figures shouting something, your true name as they run towards you, as they shake you-

- As you close your eyes and simply fade away.

The shrine called out and he answered, the way he always had, making his way to the room with the statues and the empty pedestals. He skimmed the plaques only for his blood to run cold, a final task? What did that mean? Did it mean things would change? Would all of his time be over? He feared for the implications of the fall of the wall.

The fog stirred and there was a voice, more than a voice, in his head in his heart. He wandered into it because wandering was what he had learned to do best in this fractured place. It was deathly quiet and deeply unsettling for it. Just as he found himself wondering if he might wander here eternally with no exit, a door loomed out of the lingering fog.

Offer to us your Heart.

He raised a hand to his heart defensively, hesitating as some memory stirred and urged him to stay, not to go without someone. But he was no more in control of his fate than a dreamer and he entered anyway. He just had to have faith Iron would make this same choice and would come to the same place.

Beyond the door it was quiet, the kind of heavy oppressive silence that weighed on him like a shroud, this time too the plaques were different, demanding a sacrifice. He wasn’t surprised, it was what the goddesses always demanded even if they didn’t say it, they took everything and gave nothing in return, and now they wanted his heart.

His heart. It swirled in a prism of colours, emotions, memories, things he couldn’t pull together, but here it shone brighter than it ever had, once again restored the memories that he was sure he had lost, shimmering threads that both liberated and bound him in equal measure. And there was a name, a name that spun them all together and tied them, that leant them meaning. But it was out of his reach, close but far away. He could almost touch it –

When the sky lit up overhead, red and terrible, the moon changing and shifting along with it and it drew him into its thrall, where he listened – there was no choice but to listen – to the words. And he felt their pain, felt their indignation and fury. And he shared in it, sympathised with them, with her and the promise that lingered. All that he deserved.

Walking and voices asked him if he would give up so much for so little. But they couldn’t understand how much he needed more than this, needed what he deserved, needed to destroy once and for all the things that pursued him. To be a queen was to have control. He remembered but did not remember his name and the world shifted, providing options, providing alternatives to that brilliant and terrible chaos.

But he didn’t need alternatives, he was so sure what he had to choose.

But he couldn’t just yet. He couldn’t move forward alone. Not without -

Looking out into the gathered figures, he sought one – and if he admitted it to himself, two - that he thought he could recognise anywhere in the world.

Lyzzi had approached the shrine; something told her that she was being summoned, and when she entered, the same sight greeted her - statues of the three Goddesses, four empty pedestals. This time, however, it was not the Goddesses who were calling to her in order to give her a task. Instead, the fog around her was the one calling to her; there were no words used, but she could feel it. The fog beckoned her forward.

Soon, there was only white around her, and in front of her was a door. It stood out against the white, and reminded her of that very first day she was no longer part of the fog, but her own person - incomplete, and without any memories, but at least she had a heart to call her own.

... How long would that last?

She stared at the inscriptions on the door, and sighed deeply, rubbing her chest; her heart was now a mishmash of different colors - blue, yellow, red, white - a result of her various experiences since she came to be. She was hesitant. Unwilling. But she had no say in the matter... The Goddesses had always asked for sacrifice, sacrifice, sacrifice. She should have seen this coming.

Pushing the door open, she entered. The first thing she noticed was the Goddesses, and their shift in color. The second thing she noticed was that she was not alone. Like that first day, they had gathered here for the Goddesses. However, everyone's cores, like hers, were no longer of a single color. They had grown in their own ways, and... Regained memories.

She could remember them now - the tasks, and what she gained from them. They were fragments, not enough for her to piece together in order to see the big picture or satisfy her curiosity, but just enough to get a few names. A few blurred out faces. People she cared about. The feelings she had towards them.

She heard a crack, and then all she could see was red. The white had vanished. When she looked up, she found herself so overwhelmed that she took a couple of steps back... Not that she could walk away from this. She was trapped, and she could feel herself slipping away, giving in to the red with every step she took towards it.

But salvation came.

The red was pushed aside by green and gold, and they offered her a choice. She felt relieved, and for the first time in a while, truly at peace. She remembered something else, something far more important than the memories she had regained so far. She remembered that she had another name - and unlike the name she was using now, this name was her true name. If only she could recall it...

He was at the shrine again.

He hated this place. The Goddesses were serene as always, their benevolent faces mocking him in a way far worse than any sneer could hope for. Not that they meant to mock him, no, they were singular creatures, unable to focus on anything but the task at hand. They lived only to guide him, to help him but Loffie detested them anyway. More than anything else, disquiet grew in his heart as he wandered through the shrine, a sinking feeling that the Goddesses were not to be trusted, that the hope they promised was false, that everything he wished for would be dashed and taken away.

He was alone, and he had thought he wanted to be alone but something kept nagging at him, something lost, something missing so terribly that it made him want to give up entirely, so heavy did it pull on his heartstrings. He wiped at his tear-stained face as the fog stirred again, swirling around his feet, its fuzzy tendrils lapping at his heels as he walked.

Someone was calling. But it was not from some hazy voice whispering in the distance, or from the silent statues that stood around him. It emanated from his very core, inviting, beckoning, insistent. Loffie wanted to ignore it, to plug his ears and just curl into nothingness, to forget he had ever even existed. But there was no way to silence your own existence; it wasn't his right to choose, it never had been. And so he listened, having no other choice, and he watched the white fog, his own solid form stark in contrast against it. He couldn't ignore the voice.

His feet were heavy, as though he was sloshing through sinking mud, but he found himself in front of the door just the same.

"Offer to us your heart," it read.

"Go ahead," Loffie answered to no one, as he pushed through the gate. "You can have it."

"I don't want it anymore."



He opened the door but the other side was just more of the same and he despaired a little, feelings of anger and hurt welling up inside of him. He knew it! He knew it was foolish to trust the Goddesses. There they stood again, the same yet different and he glared at them darkly. Oh yes, he would sacrifice himself for them, he thought, if only to finally be rid of them.

There were more pedestals this time, but no, Loffie corrects himself, they were there before too. Stupid empty podiums with words that meant nothing to him, except maybe anguish, because that was what he felt whenever he tried to collect his thoughts. Anguish, an agonizing grief that tore at his consciousness, made him miserable and tortured. It was completely hopeless, yet he continued to serve the Goddesses. He disgusted himself, but there was no other way, there was no other end.

He reached out, running his fingers over the plaque. What do you mean, he silently shrieked at it, glaring at it for providing no comfort. As if in answer, Loffie began to take notice of forms around him, emerging from the shadows, shapeless yet alive. Even as he realized he was one of them, he glared at them, inching away from their suffocating warmth.

Get away.

But his heart betrayed him, shining brilliantly with the colors of the other hearts, resonating with their multitude of shades even as he backed away. His heart pounded, beating with a surge of emotion. But there is something else, something more. That nagging feeling again, of memories lost, of everything lost. Everything he gained, he lost and Loffie wailed, his sanity crumbling beneath the weight of it all.

He spluttered in his cries, coughing but even the word that was on the tip of his tongue was lost, just like everything else. It was a name, he was sure of it, and it was important, he should know it but he didn't, he couldn't pull it from the recesses of his mind, couldn't drag it from the bowels of his heart and it only made him lament even more, lashing out at the shadows that crept near him.

"You cannot escape forever."

He gave up, his arms falling uselessly to his sides.

"I know."

He knew it all too well. Things were pressing now, urgency seeping into his bones and he gave up on remembering, gave up on his feelings, suddenly numb and despondent. There was no point. He was only a pawn; he didn't get to decide anything. Everything was already decided for him, and there was just no point in fighting.

But the numbness brought no end to his despair, and the moment he gave into it a painful burning red seared against his vision, and Loffie squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block it out but it was no use, it pierced to the very core of him, staining everything awful and red. Loud sounds accompanied the blinding colour and Loffie jumped, terrified, and he tripped, sprawling hard onto the ground beneath him. There he crawls into a fetal position, hands pressed tightly over his ears and eyes closed as he shook, rocking back and forth in wretchedness.

But it didn't stop.

It only became familiar, the cracking sound, and the intense red. Moments passed, or maybe eons, and it became familiar and horrible and finally Loffie dared to open his eyes against it, dared to accept his fate. It wasn't going away, he had no choice. Squinting, he stared as the moon drew closer, red and angry, until its gravity crushed into him, or him into it, and there was no more looking away, no more ignoring it. It held him taut in its clawed grasp; there could be nothing but acceptance.

The moon demanded it, in a voice that dripped with malice and scorn. Each word bores into his skull, scorching it with the intensity of fire until it permanently marked him with every word, every letter, burning him with every syllable. Loffie screamed then, the pain of it tearing the very breath from his lungs, wrenching him into unintelligible sounds of anguish. His body twisted, writhing to get away to escape but this time there is no gentle reminded that he cannot escape, there were only claws digging into his sides, and words literally cutting to his core. But even as he squirmed in pain, Loffie listened, and accepted his task. It made it sound like he had a choice, as though he hadn't already decided, as if there was any other way.

"You can have it, take it!" he begged, his screeches sinking into sobs. "You can have it, you can have it, you can have it!"

He sniffled.

"Please, just take it away."



They didn't take it away; at least, not yet.

He was forced to his feet, walking to a destination of which he had no clue, no idea where it led. Only that, as the sky burst into gold and green, that anywhere had to be better than here. He watched, a dark and forlorn little creature, as the ribbons of colour chokes out the red with their branches, and he thought nothing would be even better than anywhere. Nothing would be best. Just to ceasing to be, until every inch, every feeling, every memory of him was erased.

But it would not be so. The harshness of the red released him, and he gasped, sucking air back into his lungs. He was breathing again and as he watched the swirling green and gold, the anger and hatred and despair ebbed away and left only peace. Peace as the ruin broke away into wilderness, the new setting easing his anxious heart as he breathed deeply in the scent of wood and leaves, of nature and home. But this wasn't home, and he couldn't stay. He had to make a choice; he had to give up his heart. It wasn't right to stay here.

Yet as he settled into the underbrush to consider his decision, Loffie - no, that wasn't his name but he couldn't remember what he had been called, couldn't remember his true name and so he forgot about it for the moment, curled in the flowers and foliage and thinking he could just stay here anyway.

He wanted to close his eyes, to sleep, forever. Instead he found himself staring at the sky, contemplating. He had no use for gold or pride, the colour displeasing him with its arrogance. Who would be proud of this? Creation was comforting, its colour familiar, it put him at ease. But he didn't want knowledge, understanding why wasn't going to change what had happened or what was about to.

That left red, and he watched as the last slivers of it dug their claws in, feeling a sharp pang in his chest.

Destruction.

He wondered vaguely, would it destroy him with along the chaos it wrought?

In a way she liked the quiet, and in a way she . . .didn't. Silence meant nothing was wrong, but it also meant there was nothing right to talk about either; and it reminded her of emptiness, something she instinctively found herself drawn to abhorring. She didn't know the paradox could exist, but then again she didn't know her heart could be flashing different colors either.

There was another door, this time not just gray or awful white but a multitude of different, beautiful colors. Offer us your heart. Did they . .. mean literally? Or her whole being in service? Or perhaps both? Rostym hesitated, gazing at the multitude of beautiful colors on the door, wondering if the sight beyond was the prize for yet another sacrifice. Did they need not just memories of another life, but the ones she had here too?

She resisted the idea. She didn't want to give, she wanted more. She wanted them back, all of them.

But they were goddesses, and they must of known of her plight, or what was probably others' plights as well. Perhaps this was just the final hurdle--perhaps the final lesson was that in order to have everything, you had to sacrifice everything first.

After everything that had happened . . . maybe that was best.

Ross bit her lip, hesitated, and walked through the door. The fog shifted around her.

~ ~ ~

Sacrifice yourself for us.

She knew it.

And yet what Ross hadn't expected was the swirl of fog here, the way it had a nuance to it that made her linger peacefully. There were things here that called out to her--memories she realized belatedly as they returned to her one by one. The anguish and torment of the journey, the satisfaction and uncertainty of the chase, the melancholia and passion of the tea. A broken father, a fractured boyfriend, a letter to no-one, creeping shadows where stillness should have been, and a word, a name, a name--

The world collapsed around her into brilliant colors and awful voices and a choice she couldn't face yet, but for the moment she didn't care. The shadow crumpled down to the ground, holding her face in her hands as she took a moment to breathe and take it all in.

[Eir Entered from The Ruins!]

Silence.

Every time Eir entered this room, no matter how many Shadows...persons he bumped on the door, he always find that he was alone upon entering. Did everyone else also experiencing this?

His hearts beats again painfully. The newest Blessing...no, Curse, is eating at him.

Seven pedestals are in the large room. Of them all, three was occupied with familiar statues: The Goddesses of Ruin, Paranoia and Longing.

There are plaques underneath the statues. Still witholding the pain coming from his 'heart', Eir walked towards them.

A wall does not protect, a wall can only buy you time. A wall can only give you what you need to carry on.

Your fourth and final Trial is near. Your fragments will be tested, do not falter. Your fragments, your memories will guide the way. Sacrifice them for us. We love you most.

You will not be forgotten.

"You will not be forgotten, eh?" He muttered to himself.

He wanted to protest, but the fog surrounding him protested.

Someone is calling.
He didn''t see it, yet he can feel it. The voice which beckons him to come closer...

It came from his 'heart'.
The fog around him stirs. A sense of familiarity arose in him, for he was once this fog: a turbulence of emotion and memory. Slowly, it withdraws, exposing a form...

A door, adored with six-colored orbs. On it was inscribed a single sentence-

Offer to Us your Heart.

My heart? What good this...'heart' would give to you? He gritted his teeth in anger towards himself.

He punched the door.

The door swings open slowly, revealing...an almost exact room.

Seven pedestals. Three Statues...
But the statues are different. Instead of dull black, they seemed to have colors pulsing from them---and somehow, The Goddess of Paranoia has assumed the blue color of Longing, and the Longing somehow donning another color-purple?

Either way, it didn't matter. I-

He trailed off.

There's a movement in the fog. Something...no, things are coming out from it. Shapes. Figures. They appeared from within-

"They?"

His hearts beats with a steady rhythm. He knows this feeling. The peacefulness. The joy. The warmth. -could it be...THEM?

They didn't have any definite form, nor any physical appearance to distinguish them from the surrounding fog. The shape wiggles and undulates, changing their shape non-stop; and the only clue that these were 'Hearts' came from the fact it beats peacefully, rhythm synchronizing with his own.

But he was sure. These Hearts...was his friends'. They pulsed with colors. Not just red, yellow or blue-iridescent.

He looked down to his heart.
The Blessings inside it danced so, changing its color into a brilliant silver, with flashes of colors passing on its surface...

There was a quick white-out and...
He remembered. The Blessings he gathered must have strengthened his Heart so that it now can attract even the memories wiped away by the Goddesses.

He remembered everything now. Everything.
Even the sin he committed. The sacrifice he made to even out that sin. The bits and pieces of emotions he tasted from others.

Yet those 'memories' was not 'his' own. Those are 'memories' of Eir the shadow. By extension, those also are 'memories' from Rei the Silver Kingdom's Information Broker. It was not 'his'.

It was not 'mine'.

It was...whom?

He remembered, but can't say it. He KNOWS, but can't utter it.
WHY?

More time. I need more time to---

The floor beneath him shook.

The fog is dispersing.

The room is no more.

A painful red burns through his eyelids.

The moon...grew a face. Its fangs are bared, its jaw growing wider and wider with each loud 'crack' sound.

Its presence was intimidating...no. Overpowering.
Eir can feel his 'heart's glow diminishing. The colors faded. The beats slowed.

The moon spoke something about giving the memories back to 'her', the Queen.

His body again moved, as it was allured by 'her' speech. No. I don't want this-
I have a promise to be fulfilled! If not---Elli's Heart would be sacrificed for nothing! he resisted, but to no avail. The dark red moon is claiming what she gave. It was a natural thing, to return what is borrowed---

"Will you give up so much- "-when you have experienced so little in return?"

The red sky churns, and then splits apart. Equal amounts of green and gold break through it, in strides of lavish beauty and simple imagination. Branches curl into the moon, growing odd pieces of foliage, gold filigree borders, the outline of a crown tearing into the other end, devouring the red. The result was nothing but an oddly twisted, convoluted sky, as if each colour was vying against the other, fighting a three-way battle.

Eir could only stare at that magnificent view...wait.

He can move his body again. His mind is at peace, and so are the few memories, your memories he have both gained and regained. He remembered something---his true name. Not Eir nor Rei---

The sky quivers and threatens to tear further apart as the earth below him changes. Ruined grey buildings turn to large, dense pieces of foliage, before warping to a brilliant, shimmering castle in the distance. Towers, gates erupt from the base of the Shrine, the ground becomes ornate and marbled. The foliage grows thicker, tree roots spinning wildly, out of control, consuming the red-

It seems like the 'world' itself was splitting into three.

And Eir knows. He somehow knows that this balance of power can be shifted-

For three choices are laid before him.

Voices. They called to him, giving him offers of Destruction, Pride or Creation.

Each choice would grant him something. Each choice was tempting.
But he still have his heart with him. he still have his resolve.
And he has the final say.

"I have vowed countless times; in the present and the past. That I will only use my power for protecting those who are weak. To work side-by-side with others as equal. To share equal joy and happiness; grieving and sadness with others." He said, placing his hands on his heart, taking it out.

"And it shall be...*grunt* always like that."

He walked towards the land of lush greenery and plantlife. With each step he took, his hand digs even deeper inside his chest.

"For destruction and death are things that I cannot tolerate. For sacrificing others are utter insanity. For creating a system where others have greater say was lunacy-"

He can feel something breaking. In his hand, his heart was creaking. The memories, peeling away layers by layers. Sometimes big, sometimes flakes.

"-for my only wish is to create a world where all can be equals---turning the flowing tears into smiles of happiness!"

He tore it out. His heart.
Glowing in magnitude of colors; its size was larger...no, greater than he expected it to be.

"This is my choice. My wish is to shape with my own hand the future of this world."

He offered his heart to the Creation.


"You have made the correct choice. This is the end for you, but the beginning for me. Your sacrifice will not be in vain."

The balance was tipped. The part of the world which is stained in deep green grows, albeit slightly.

But it surely overpowers the others.

"Glad to hear that..."

It hurts.
It hurts like every bones in your body was shattered, and whatever left is minced slowly. It hurts like a thousand splinters in your hand and you were forced to play catch-ball.

Catch ball?
I...can't remember how do you play that. No. I remember my dad used to-

Dad?

Are you there? No, I don't want you to sue that child...

What are I'm saying?

Argh.

...

[Eir closed his eyes, fading away...]

She started a little when arms came around her, almost reaching for her daggers--but she remembered something warm and it stilled her hand. Swallowing down the guilt she had of almost striking her friend, Ross continued to look out into the landscape of harmful colors.

"We think, and we choose, and we keep moving forward," she answered simply. Those last three words resonated with her, but she couldn't pinpoint why. There was a lot she didn't know why she was charmed by, or feared, or bristled at, and it was starting to get irritating.

There was a motion off to one side, and Ross watched as someone else also fell under the weight of their final burden; and something panged in her heart. "C'mon," she mumbled, patting Vaneda's arm before sliding out of the hug and getting back on her feet. She barely heard her own footsteps as she approached the girl, unsure if it was wise to bother her and also tired of being unsure.

"It's a lot, huh?" A hand was offered to help her up if she so chose.