——— Chapter Art (Click to view) ———
EIGHT YEARS AGO.
Three figures sat by the coastline, playing a game with cards. Two fishing rods embedded into the ground next to them.
A built man with half his face burned off, a young woman with blonde hair and a black ribbon, and a little boy with golden eyes and a crimson scarf far too large for him.
"How do I become a shaman?"
"Yeahhh! That's a straight Bjorn. Look at it!"
Bjorn looked at the cards and then placed his down too. A flush.
Alice grabbed her head, looking away in exasperation.
"Damn it, Bjorn. What's the point in always packing these cards."
"It's made me 50 crown."
Alice turned to look at Naren.
"You're lucky you don't have any money."
Naren looked at his cards carefully.
"Yeah, I guess I lucked out."
He let his cards flutter to the ground. Royal flush.
Alice began laughing.
"Bjorn! That's 25 crowns you just lost!"
She patted Naren on the head.
"Good job. Keep robbing that thug."
"You never answered. How do I become a shaman?"
Alice leaned back on her arms, looking at the sky as if thinking.
"How indeed. Well it's different for everyone, but there's one similarity."
She turned her gaze towards Naren.
"The beast you made a pact with is inside your own soul. Whenever they decide, the strings of fate will let them pull you into their domain. The place where you must complete a trial for them - a marchen. Once you do, you'll be officially recognized as a shaman."
Naren's golden eyes glimmered while facing Alice. Right before a puzzled expression fell upon it.
"What?"
Alice giggled a little. Patting his head.
"You're not the brightest so you wouldn't get it. Basically you're going to be pulled somewhere dangerous without your own permission. When that happens you're own soul will tell you the rest."
——————————————
PRESENT DAY.
Among dark murky waters, rattled a sizable wooden ship. It was big, enough for at least 100 people to sail comfortably. A thick layer of fog immersed the whole ship, blocking most if not all of the moonlight. On the deck two figures were arguing.
"Really?"
A man in a dark trench coat held another with his eyes alone. His hair was fully buzzed, a little tattoo of a broken crown completely ensnared by a rose wrapped around it peeking through his neck. The same symbol was etched into an emblem on his coat along with three chevrons and one rocker underneath.
"You lost the map"
The other man was flustered. Sweating, he could barely get his words out. He had the same emblem etched onto his shirt, but with only chevron.
"I'm-I'm sorry Sergeant. I never moved it but-"
The man walked over, slowly and methodically, placing his hands on the mans shoulders. A warm smile on his mouth.
"Don't worry. It happens. I'll just look for it, alright?"
During this whole interaction, a little girl sat a couple feet away, bounded by rope. She wore a slightly oversized button up shirt and a long skirt. Akin to a school uniform. She was short for her age—couldn't be older than nine. Dark hair fell just past her shoulders, uncombed, tangled. Her face was pale, almost sickly, marked with several fading bruises.
She sat there, wide grey eyes glaring at the men. A bowl of stew sat right in front of her, untouched.
The soldier shook in the Sergeant's presence, but the Sergeant did nothing. He didn't punish him or scold him. Just smiled and told him to not worry about it too much, before dismissing the officer and turning to the little girl.
"Vera, you still haven't touched your food? Aren't you hungry?"
The girl didn't say anything. Instead, she glared at him. The wind blowing the oversized sleeves up a little, revealing dark bruises.
"Stand up."
Vera didn't respond. She sat motionless.
"Vera. Stand up."
She reluctantly got up slowly. Keeping her eyes locked onto the man. A thousand different curse words oozing out of them.
Seemingly indifferent to them, the man placed his hands on Vera's head, gently coercing her hair.
"Good girl."
He turned to another man who was mopping the deck.
"Bolka! Can you bring our guests up?"
Bolka walked up to the two. Unable to look the man in the eye, bringing his hands to his head, saluting.
"Y-yes Sergeant first class."
His eyes wandered over at Vera, quickly darting away after the flimsiest of direct contact. Obviously he held even the slightest tinge of guilt. But as long as he just followed orders and moved without thinking it would subside.
The lower deck was a dark and cold room. Filled with cells, barely big enough to hold one adult. Despite this, each held at least two people and up to four. Well except for one that was just newly put to use. A strange dread came from that cell, scaring even the soldiers.
Too dark to see and too dark to think anything else. A bandaged hand reached into the neighboring cell, ignoring the dreadful aura flowing out of it. The cuffs around his hand banging against the cell.
"Psst. Hey."
A young boy was cradled up on the floor sleeping. Bruises and cuts all over his body. He had a pair of jeans on, rolled up as they were evidently too long for him, as well as an oversized button-up shirt.
The boy couldn't be older than nineteen, reddish black curly hair converging into black tips completely drenched covering his face. An old crimson scarf was wrapped around him, holding on tightly as if to keep the boy safe.
"Hey. Young man."
Naren tumbled around on the ground. He was so sleepy. In fact, he only slept ten hours yesterday and nine the day before. He was long overdue for some rest. But now here he was, a stranger calling him.
"Hey. What's your name?"
Naren sat up with a jolt, his golden eyes tired and half open. He was having the worst week possible. Just a week ago, he finally finished making a boat to leave his home island. But as soon as he left, a whale came out of the pitch black waters, eating him whole. After living off the insides of the whale, It finally threw Naren up after three days.
Even after that, his misfortune didn't end. He was picked up by a bunch of weirdos calling themselves soldiers and then locked up in this cage. Actually, this was the best part. At least now he could finally sleep in a little. Until, this random coarse voice kept calling for him. This was the fifth day he woke him up.
"You're so loud, Boris?"
The voice paused, probably a puzzled expression on his face. Before resuming, waving it's bandaged hands through the cell.
"You know my name?"
Naren yawned, his eyes slowly adjusting to the dark to make out what was in the man's hand. Finally, he could make out the grainy crumbs of bread. A small piece, definitely stale.
"You told me yesterday when you woke me up."
"Did I? What's your name then?"
Naren eyed the bread, now keeping track of it as it moved left to right. His ears aligning with the banging of the handcuffs and the cell bars. Waiting
"I told you that yesterday too."
"Oh darn, am I getting that old?"
He saw his chance and snatched the bread. Immediately shoving it into his mouth before the man could react. This place only served mush to it's prisoners, so the bread was a much needed change of pace.
"Hey! What the hell brat!"
Naren stayed silent laying back down. It was his second day on this ship. While he liked the luxury of sleeping, he was already falling behind. To become a shaman, Alice told him he'd be forcefully taken to some dangerous place, then his soul would speak to him or some bs. But even after all that, he had no idea how to enter a Marchen.
"Brat! That was for Vera, not you!"
Naren was beginning to wonder if everything was just a dream. If Alice was even real, and if Maren was just something he made up from going crazy. By now, he couldn't be too sure. The only proof being the man right next to him.
"You!...wait who was I talking to?"
Yep, everything could've been fake. From Alice, to Bjorn, to Maren. Everything except his sister. That was the one thing he could be certain of no matter what.
Just then, interrupting his thoughts, Naren turned towards the entrance to the lower deck. He heard it all from before: The girl named Vera, and some guy named Bolka coming to get them.
As the wooden floors creaked under the weight of a short slender man, a dim light came into view.
'I guess I should consider my vacation over.'
The man carried a key with him, as he walked with confidence down the stairs. The previous shakiness and limp footsteps Naren heard from above now absent. A completely new character when his boss wasn't around.
One by one, the man opened the cell doors, urging the men from the cells to come. Each emerging with various wounds and scars on their body. Some were lucky enough to get the cuts wrapped in some old cloth. The unlucky ones, like Naren, were made to bleed until they got some infection and died.
When Bolka finally made it to Naren's cell, he hovered over it for a second. His hands quivered a little while inserting the key into the hole.
Naren stared at the soldier, until Bolka finally locked eyes with him. Reflecting the golden tired eyes of the prisoner inside. His voice croaked a little as he spoke.
"All of you, come up. It's that time of week again."
Naren's eyes glimmered as his door opened. He finally chewed through the tough, stale piece of bread, swallowing it as he fell in line with the other prisoners. A thick metal chain fixed onto all of them, connected to an even thicker metal ball.
Bolka walked out first, with the many prisoners following suit. Naren coming in last. This was his first time out of the cell since being coughed up by that damn whale.
As the rays of sun attacked his vision he squinted his already drowsy eyes. On deck, it wasn't actually that bright. A thick veil of fog covered the entire atmosphere, only stray streaks of light wandering in. Though, the difference compared to the lower deck was what made it so hard to adjust.
The prisoners got walked into a line, all of them hung at the very edge of the ship, their backs overlooking the dark murky waters. In front of them, was a buzzed man, wearing a dark trench coat. The emblem of a rose wrapped around a broken crown peering out at Naren.
"Alright, everyone!"
A slight smile made it's way onto his face. This was the guy Sergeant Naren heard so much of the last couple days. Great. His voice was just starting to get annoying.
"Today, all of you will be bait in this black sea."
While Naren stared at the Sergeant, he didn't notice that a little girl with fresh bruises and a light limp was doing the same. Her eyes just as resolute as Naren's. Even more unknown to Naren, they both had the same thoughts.
'I'll make sure to feed you to the damn fishes.'
'I'll find a way to curse you.'
Naren's eyes wandered along onto the ocean behind him, watching a lifeless naked body float along the water, a tinge of red staining the sea where it floated. Along side it, clothes also rippled through, a familiar emblem with one chevron barely visible through the fog.