Restoration: Cursed Memories(Book 2)

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Chapter 15: Ultima Weapon(Bonus Scene(Part 3))

Walking through that endless darkness, reaching out, grabbing hold, even if the chances are minuscule, she will continue to hold on. A weapon in which can make even her quiver before it. Still, the halfbreed knowing that she is not alone. There are many who will come to her aid. No matter how far she falls into despair. Even if everyone else abandons her, there is one she can count on, and as such, she continues to push onward.

Resolve burning deep, emotions endlessly clashing. Feeling greed deep within her. The need to want, to reach out, and take hold of her own desirable future. Cyra standing within the Graveyard Realm, the air is still chilling, and the path around her frozen solid. The maiden slowly exhaling, seeing her breath within the air. Cyra slowly looking around, taking in the sight. The maiden soon looking up to the moon eternally bleeding red. A moon which is a curse. One the devil loathes, a hidden beauty carrying much strife inside of it.

The maiden looking onward to the endless path ahead. Wherever it leads, it will one day reveal her a better morrow. No matter how many times her heart falls in a bind, no matter the bondage she is feeling, Cyra will continue to press on.

Walking down that pathway, desires flowing strong from within, creeping out, and extending from her body. Thick malevolence crying out in every direction. As she walks down the pathway, malevolence thickening all around her. The halfbreed looking on, her line of vision slowly fading away. Cyra soon finding herself walking within an endless darkness. Her resolve still holding strong. Deep at the center, the maiden seeing a light. That feint hope at the end of this madness, the maiden continuing to press onward.

“The darkness means nothing to me. After all...I know my old friend will continue to guide me...”

Those gentle eyes looking on, feeling the warmth of the light so very far ahead. The halfbreed continuing to move, the light becoming brighter and brighter. The darkness around her soon fading, and she finds herself in an all too familiar field. Flowers in which brings back such dreadful memories. The gentle familiar breeze. Cyra seeing the petals blowing in the wind.

The devil taking a moment to observe her surroundings. This indeed is not a pleasant memory of hers, so she can only wonder why. Cyra looking ahead, her eyes slightly widening. A maiden clad in gold, a cape on the lower half of her back, the person wearing a feathery helm. Golden hair extending long, and eyes reflecting the crimson moon itself. The maiden looking back, their eyes meeting with Cyra’s own.

“What kind of trickery is this?” Cyra speaks a bit in unease.

The woman ahead continuing to look at her in pity. The familiar person turning towards Cyra, directly facing the halfbreed ahead of her. Their eyes meeting with the other. The woman ahead of Cyra none other than herself, or perhaps an illusion of the past one can say.

“This night, the night you loathe so much. You continue to run, eternally remaining in bondage,” the illusion speaks.

Displeasure clear in her voice, the maiden knowing why for such as well. Cyra looking away, unable to answer. This night she continues to run from, hoping that one day it will simply fade out of memory. To move past it, turning the page and never looking back.

“Greed...” the illusion speaks more seriously.

Cyra looking towards the double, her eyes seeming to express remorse. There is no surprise in the eyes of the maiden, only acceptance of this. Cyra knowing that what is to come is of the truth. Her own selfish desires, sorrow, despair, everything clawing deep away within her.

“Everything you desire is within the past. There was once a time, where you wouldn’t have even thunk to go this far,” the illusion speaks a bit strictly.

Cyra holding her hand to her chest. The maiden hanging her head low. Indeed this is the truth, there has once been a time where she will never even think to commit such heinous sins. Those have been much simpler times in her life. Where heaven and earth has been one.

“Correct...there was once a time like that. Though...not anymore. I am tired...either I live the life I so desire, or I perish. There is no in-between,” Cyra softly speaks.

The illusion looking towards the maiden. The eyes of the double expressing sorrow upon the devil ahead. Cyra raising her head, looking into the eyes of the illusion. One of the past and one of the present. Two differing times clashing in the moment.

“Is the past really worth this? To trample upon so many?” the illusion distantly speaks.

Cyra looking away for a moment, carefully considering her words. There appears to be no doubt really, there is really only one way forward. To achieve those desires deep within, the maiden must continue venturing deeper into this endless abyss. Cyra looking into the eyes of the illusion, her decision setting in stone.

“If it means for this endless sorrow to end, then yes. There is no going back, even if the chances are minuscule at best, I will grab hold of it,” Cyra calmly speaks.

The illusion closing her eyes for a moment, considering the resolve of the halfbreed. Feeling the malevolence extending from the body of Cyra. Opening her eyes, the double reaching for Lævateinn. The maiden taking notice, understanding full well. Cyra moving her hand as well, reaching behind her, grabbing hold of Lævateinn as well. Both taking hold of their weapons, extending it afar. Cyra looking on, seeing dark crimson energy spiraling around the blade of the enemy.

“Even if it is but a somber morrow, this is something I will not condone!” the illusion strongly speaks.

Cyra looking on, seeing Lævateinn extending afar in a scythe formation. The blade revealing long, the back of it coating in thick black scales, the steel of it bathing in crimson blood. The maiden taking a step back, her eyes trembling at the sight of it. Cyra glancing to her Lævateinn, hearing the crying of the weapon. The two weapons intensely radiating malevolence. The two energies clashing against the other. The illusion standing upon her side, proudly directing Lævateinn ahead at the devil.

“The time for judgment is now,” she glares at the maiden.

Cold sweat running down the side of Cyra’s face. Feeling the pressure of the foe ahead, feeling the intense force crushing down at her. The illusion raising the weapon high, the blade glimmering in the moonlight.

“One who desires...” she instantly sweeps her weapon across the land.

Cyra narrowly blocking the assault. The impact devastatingly striking against the maiden, hitting her across the area. The force of the assault rendering the area asunder. The halfbreed opening her eyes, flipping onto her feet. Looking up, Cyra seeing the illusion descending upon her.

The maiden dashing away, narrowly evading the assault. The illusion crashing down upon the field. The surrounding area tearing apart, massive rocky objects flying into the air. The illusion standing, turning in the direction of the devil. Cyra can only look on, knowing for certain that this is simply the beginning.

“I was never this powerful...what is going on here...?” she takes a step back, tension rising inside of her.

“You only desire, power hungry, trampling upon anyone who resists you. You are not me, but a monster,” the illusion speaks in disgust, slightly looking away.

All the while, the illusion keeping her glare upon the maiden. One who desires, becoming hungry for power. Trampling upon her enemies. Embracing those imperfections and selfish desires. Harming many within her path. All for a chance to grasp those deepest desires within her.

—Grassy Plains within the Spirit World—

At that very moment, Reynas standing beneath the tree, looking at it. The goddess holding her hand to her chest, knowing all too well of the trial. Concern expressing from her eyes, the woman knowing that it is a valuable trial. No matter how painful it is. Reynas knowing that Cyra must come to experience the gravity of her sins.

“Cyra...will you let your greed consume you? Or will you rise above it?” she softly speaks.

Maria standing there behind Reynas, hearing those words causing the child much concern. The girl turning away, even if there is not much that can be done, she will try. The goddess turning towards the child, knowing all too well of what she is about to do.

“Maria, you must be patient,” Reynas softly speaks.

Maria shaking her head in refusal, quickly running onward. Even if there is not much she can do, the child will try and support her mother. Reynas looking away, understanding the girl’s concern.

“I suppose...if there is any chance...then you can find it, Maria...” Reynas distantly speaks.

—Illusion of the Flowery Field—

Each and every part of the flowery field suffering damage. Wounds cutting deep into the ground, petals scattering around. Cyra trying to catch her breath. It is appearing the illusion that assaults her is without limit. At the current pacing, it might very well end in defeat. The maiden unable to think of a way to level the playing field.

“There must be a way to close this gap...” she slightly flinches, taking a step back.

The halfbreed looking ahead, seeing the back of the illusion facing her. The gentle breeze blowing against both of them. Cyra looking on, feeling the crushing malevolence all around her. The air becoming harder to breathe by the moment.

“In order to move on, one must accept the past. You are a danger not only to yourself, but everyone around you,” the illusion glancing back to Cyra.

The maiden thinking on the words of the illusion. Perhaps she does speak the truth. Up until now, the devil will continue to press onward. Thinking only of her own selfish desires in mind. Not really caring for those getting caught in the crossfire.

“Valor, he would follow you into the harshest of scenarios, yet all you have are selfish desires. You continue to do him harm,” the illusion speaks with sorrow in her voice.

“I see now...” Cyra hanging her head low.

The illusion turning in the direction of the maiden. The double awaiting her response. The next words will determine the judgment to come. The surrounding air blowing a bit harder. The moon cursing the night hanging ever so high, shining down upon them both below.

“You...are a reflection of myself...both good and bad...” Cyra looking towards her.

Those sorrowful eyes of the maiden locking onto that of the illusion. A reflection of the halfbreed from deep within. Both her positive and negatives. The illusion representing more of what the devil is at her base.

“Correct, continue,” she calmly speaks.

Cyra looking up into the blood moon. That moon in which continues to plague her nightmares. That everlasting light shining down upon the land below. That moon reflecting the sorrow deep in her eyes. That dread continuing to claw its way deep at her core.

“That moon...it cannot leave huh. From the day of my birth, we have been connected,” she distantly speaks.

The illusion looking up into the velvet moon high above. That color bleeding red. One that will never leave, eternally engraving itself upon the soul of the halfbreed. From the day of her birth, cursing her very existence.

“Correct.”

The moon in which curses the night. Never to go away, to eternally remain. To bring with it sorrow. A moon fitting for one that is an abomination. Those dreadful emotions striking away at her. The maiden swimming in an endless sea of despair.

“You are wrong though...”

The illusion looking towards the halfbreed, confusion expressing from her eyes. Wrong she say? Perhaps there might be more to her answer than simply what she endures. The double paying close attention, seeing the devil’s eyes slowly settling.

“My desires may be selfish, and I know I have done harm onto my old friend, but I am forever grateful to him. After all...our desires are one and the same,” Cyra calmly looking towards the illusion.

The illusion taking a moment to think, feeling the malevolence of the maiden, but it is different this time. Rather than the darkness of the halfbreed feeling animalistic, it is appearing to be at ease. The double looking past the maiden, seeing Maria standing not too far away. The double faintly smiling. The devil seeing such, looking on in confusion, wondering what might be so pleasant.

“Remember, never forget who you are. If you intend to go down this path, then so be it. However, do so as yourself,” she softly speaks.

Cyra feeling a presence nearby, the maiden glancing back. The halfbreed seeing the blurry image of the child. Cyra distantly looking upon them. Thinking for a bit, soon the devil cracking a faint smile, looking ahead to the illusion.

“Always...”

The maiden seeing the illusion slowly fading away into pure white energy. Cyra looking on, watching the energy moving towards her. Maria looking on, seeing her mother grasping the formless aura. The halfbreed holding the energy to her chest, closing her eyes, feeling it assimilating into her body.

Cyra feeling at ease, a sense of fulfillment coming over her. Even if her desires may be selfish, certainly it does not mean she must change as well. To remain how she is, even as time continuously moves on, no matter how far she must travel, doing so as herself is of utmost importance. The maiden lowering her hands to her side, looking on, witnessing the flowery field restoring itself. It is strange really, this night in which causes her eternal torment, it is feeling nice. The devil slowly inhaling and exhaling, turning away from the scene. Cyra walking onward, passing the blurry child. The maiden stopping for a moment, glancing back to them.

“Come on, let us return,” she softly speaks.

Maria turning in her mother’s direction, surprise clear in her eyes. The child smiling, joyously following behind her mother. No matter the path leading ahead, to achieve so as one’s self, this is the most important part. Even if the worlds shall crumble in the process, at least she will be herself in doing so.

The greed within me has been acknowledged. No matter the path ahead, even if I must pave my way with blood, then so be it, so long as I do so as myself, so long as I remain who I am, then certainly there is hope. I am no hero, far from it really, but even so, it does not matter. After all, these desires of mine will serve as a means towards tomorrow. That is who I am, one who eternally remains in bondage, one who surpasses their limitations. One who possesses a soft heart...


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