Restoration: Cursed Memories(Book 2)

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Chapter 10: Olden Days(Bonus Scene(Part 3))

Cyra walking onward, pushing those dreadful memories out of mind. The hatred in her eyes clear as day. The maiden standing at the stairway, looking ahead to the tombstone shining upon the altar a distance in front of her.

Remembering the last encounter with one of the seven sins, in all honesty, she is uncertain on how she even best such an opponent. Perhaps fortune has been with her that day, but now, there is no going back. There is only one way to go, and that is onward. The devil ascending the stairway, walking towards the tombstone shining a brilliant light.

The maiden looking upon it, seeing inscriptions upon the tombstone. Certainly, these words will call a fiend from the depths of Hell itself. Cyra taking a moment, slowly inhaling and exhaling, gathering her nerves. The encounter with that man once again certainly does shake her. Going into battle in a distraught state may certainly cause her demise. Cyra closing her eyes for a moment, feeling the gentle breeze hitting against her. Her eyes slowly opening, brimming with such confidence.

“There is only one way left...and that is to tread this eternal abyss...” she calmly speaks.

The maiden looking to the inscriptions upon the tombstone. It is a bit difficult to read, perhaps from an ancient tongue, but it is strange really, to be able to understand.

“Let your hatred flow, reach out to the bleeding moon, yell your desires into the everlasting night. Hatred will be your guide,” she recites.

Feeling the air around her thickening, seeing the tombstone shining even brighter. Eternal lament deep within the night, experiencing the agony from deep inside. How dreadful it is, but also how enlightening it may be. Cyra looking above, witnessing the malevolence rushing out of the tombstone and into the air. The darkness spiraling around high above.

The maiden taking a step back, the darkness descending upon her, encircling her. Cyra feeling as if it is cradling her. The hatred, the anguish that she is feeling, such flowing out. Blackness surrounding her, unable to see anything around her. Wondering where she is residing.

“I suppose I will get nowhere just standing around,” she looks ahead in some unease.

The maiden beginning to walk onward, treading down the endless abyss, seeing only a crimson energy flowing around. As she moves deeper, the devil feeling intense hatred, no doubt anger that is lingering deep within her. Screaming out to finally be known. Shouting out her very soul.

Walking onward, feeling those dreadful emotions tearing away at her. Events playing out from her past. From meeting with her old friend, the supreme god. Mountains that scales ever so high, as well as the many different worlds that exists. Even the memories of Alfheim, where the Elven gives her such valuable advice. A nightmare this may be, but certainly one she must live through again.

“Fate is a fools word, take hold of your future yourself. Look on, reach out, and grab hold. Sometimes, it is okay to be a bit selfish,” he turns towards the maiden.

The Elven vanishing, and another memory taking his place. Looking ahead, the devil resting her eyes upon her old friend. Valor standing ahead of her. Slightly looking away, the maiden feeling sorrow building deep inside of her. Passing by, the deity speaking familiar words towards her. Those words ringing through the maiden.

“No matter what happens, it will always be us against the worlds,” he glances back to her.

Closing her eyes, no matter how painful it is, the maiden continuing to push onward. Cyra allowing him to fade into yet another memory. All of these events are from the past. Deep inside, where such is holding both joy and sorrow.

Us against the worlds...no matter what happens huh. In those days, I so very much wished to believe those words...

Opening her eyes, another figure materializing out of the darkness. An all too familiar one at that. Her hatred boiling by the second, seeing Ardin taking form from the darkness. The eyes of the maiden expressing such anger.

“When will you learn? Your power is nothing in comparison to my own,” he smirks.

Ignoring his words, trying to contain her hatred. The maiden passing by, the devil turning towards her.

“You can run, but you can never escape me. You will always be mine,” his words ringing through the maiden.

Ceasing her movements, the devil slightly looking down. That hatred she is feeling burning evermore within her. A voice echoing through the maiden, screaming at her. Those words ringing through her.

Shout your soul! Defiler of Souls!

Let your anguish be known!

No longer stay silent!

No longer allow your sorrow to hold you back!

Shout your soul! Defiler of Souls!

Malevolence intensely burning from the body of the maiden, thickening by the second. Raising her head, screaming out into the endless abyss. The darkness wildly raging from her body, crashing against anything in its path. Ripping away at the memories flooding through. Pleasureful and dreadful memories alike.

“Become nothing but a memory!!!” she screams out.

The darkness slowly subsiding, revealing in its place is a long mouldy pathway. It is worn with age. Decaying trees all around, and a blood moon hanging high in the sky. The maiden standing at the end of the path. Far ahead, standing directly beneath the light of the moon is a fiend coating in silver fur. The body of a man, and head of a wolf. Blood red eyes glaring right at her.

Glaring at the monster ahead, hatred flowing deep inside of her, malevolence wildly raging in every direction. Taking a strong step forward, gripping the hilt of Lævateinn. The weapon crying out, understanding the despair deep within the maiden.

This hatred I feel deep within me, finally being known. This indescribable hatred...no more...I will no longer stand for this. Even if I must bathe the worlds in malevolence! Then I shall...to be able to return to such a time once again...to grasp that desired future. Even if I must become corruption itself, then so be it...


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