Chapter 18

Shadow in the Walls

Sylas wasn't alone in his attempt to run toward the scream; soon, the otherwise silent and empty corridors of the castle were filled with rushing guards and soldiers, most of whom have geared up in a rushed panic, resulting in missing at least one part of their set—some forgot their helmets, some their armguards, and there was even a man who forgot his leggings, leading to him running about in a set of brown underpants with strategically revealing holes.

Panic and shock were evident, and the source was swiftly located—the library. Sylas’ heart skipped a beat at the realization as he sped up even further. Eventually, he reached the library—or, well, the corridor within which it was set. There was a massive row of maids and other servants polluting the entire hallway down toward the library’s doors—or, well, the gaping hole where a door should be.

Gasps and hush-hush chatter filled the corridor, and some of it reached Sylas’ ears. As he suspected and feared, the shock was the result of one of the maids finding Boy—or, well, Prince Valen—in a pool of blood, dead.

Sylas frowned, withdrawing. It was enough for him to confirm who it was, as he didn’t really need to see the scene. What was different this go-around? It wasn’t hard to pinpoint, actually—in fact, the answer came to him immediately: in no previous ‘runs’ did Sylas ever kick Valen out of the room at this time, resulting in the young man going to the library. That was the change. The question became, however, who would kill someone? Were they aware that they were killing a Prince? Was that their intention? Or did Valen simply stumble onto something he shouldn’t have?

The answers would weave a story, but Sylas wouldn’t get answers just sticking about. There was no reason to meander about and, as such, he raced away and ended his life by leaping off the walls. It was a double tragedy, he mused, both the Prince and the Prophet dying on the same day.

He awoke back in the library after their successful defense against the invasion. Looking about, his frown deepened; there didn’t seem to be anything here worth killing over. Rare books? Perhaps, but Sylas had no means of knowing. Speculation was a mother of wrongs, however, and he wasn't about to commit to it.

Instead, Sylas played out the same routine until the day of the accident and, instead of sending Valen out and on his own, he suggested they went to the library for a change of scenery. He wanted to see whether an additional variable—that being himself—would change the outcome or would whoever kill the Prince simply cull him as well.

On their way over, the two remained silent, with Sylas locking himself with his thoughts. One choice… one that seemed so innocuous and innocent, utterly and abhorrently changed what he considered to be an already standardized week. It made him realize that he was too loose with how he handled everything; in reality, only he had this sort of power—to replay the very same week over and over again, but make it distinctly different each and every time by making just the slightest adjustments to it. It was both humbling and terrifying, he mused.

The two reached the doorless arch to the library relatively quickly, walking through and entering an empty room. Sylas had been on high alert as soon as they entered the corridor but hadn’t spotted anything… off. He wasn’t truly expecting to; if it was someone who could kill a person and cleanly scurry away, it wouldn’t be Sylas to find him and spot him. The reason he came with the Prince was twofold: in one part, it was to see if he would be a variable, but secondly, in case he wasn’t, to see just who killed the Prince. The answer to that came surprisingly swiftly, actually.

Both Valen and Sylas paused, the former in shock and the latter in an absolute state of confusion, staring at the wall in front of them. It was the solitary wall in the room that bore no shelves of books and was wholly barren, showing cracks across its surface. The wall bent forward and bloated like a balloon for a moment, bleeding out like ink into a humanoid form that, then, transformed into a masked figure. It looked like some terrible CGI, actually, but was in fact very much real.

“… an unfortunate timing, little pup,” a distorted voice spoke from beneath the black-clad figure as it lifted a sickle of all things. “But it had to be done eventually.”

“Who are—” before Valen could get out the remainder of the words, sickle shafted through his neck and decapitated him clean. Sylas’ innards churned as he watched the head fly off, followed by a brief shower of red, and all ending with two thuds against the stone. He was aghast at the sight, yet still managed to keep a straight face, staring directly at the masked figure.

“You’ve made a mistake,” he said, trying to get a reaction out of the man.

“Why? Because he’s a Prince?” the distorted voice chuckled for a moment, slashing the sickle sideways to clean it of the blood. “I'm afraid his hollow titles mean little to someone like me.”

“Him? No, nothing to do with him,” Sylas crackled back. “It’s me you should be worried about.”

“Oh? You? Why? Will you kill me now?” the voice asked mockingly.

“Not now,” Sylas replied. “But I will come back to haunt your ass. So, if you’d be so kind to tell me your name, surname, age, and where I can find you while you’re loafing about, I’d be super appreciative.” The figure paused for a moment while Valen prepared to have his head chopped off yet again. He was… getting used to it, scarily enough. He had no inclination that the man would answer any of his questions and it was a simple hail Mary of sorts to see if it might work. To his surprise and shock, however, the man did provide him with some information.

“You can call me Shadow,” the voice replied. “And if you truly do come back to haunt me, look in the walls. Walls of this castle, walls of this kingdom, and walls of this world. Therein you shall find me.”

Chop.

You have died.

‘New Dawn’ save point initialized.

Sylas woke up in the same room, though within very different circumstances. His brows were scrounged from the get-go, his mind revving with thoughts. He learned nothing of factual importance, actually, just that whoever killed the Prince loved his or her edge. Or, that they were being quite literal. Which, in all fairness, they could have been. Since they did come out of the wall and all.

Thinking back at the sight, Sylas shuddered. Of all the strange experiences he’s had since coming to this world, that one had to be the strangest. Seeing the wall bloat and melt and deform in a mad cacophony of awful CGI-like ‘effects’ was enough to break anyone, him included. And yet, that abomination spat out a person. For all intents and purposes, ‘Shadow’ did live within the walls.

More questions existed, however, and questions that were far more integral to Sylas’ understanding not just of this place, but the world’s general lore. What confused Sylas was why the ‘Shadow’ didn’t go after the Prince in other timelines, the ones in which Valen was very much accessible, but just not in the library.

“So, this place is the key?” he mumbled, looking at the walls and wondering whether he was being watched right at that very moment. Even if he wasn’t able to ascertain it, that paranoid part of the brain, the one that all people have, convinced him that he was.

After calming down, however, he knew that it made no sense—if ‘Shadow’ was already in the library, he could have killed both Valen and Sylas on this very day rather than waiting to do it on some other, serendipitous occasion. The more he thought about it, though, the less sense anything about the whole thing made. Why go after Valen in the first place? He wasn’t a threat, not yet anyway. Was it in relation to the invasion? Was that hooded figure behind it? Was it retribution? Just prevention, perhaps? Or something else entirely that wasn’t even within the scope of Sylas’ perspective.

After all, he was like a newborn babe in this world, a blank slate. He didn’t know the factions, the underbelly that truly ran this whole place, the secret forces that vied for control, the figures that made souls shake in their realms. He did, however, know how to not get Valen killed—just keep him out of the library, it seemed. Was it just that? Though he couldn’t account for the Prince’s whereabouts at all times, Sylas was fairly certain that the young man did, in fact, go to the library at least once during the week. Why wasn’t he killed, then, on any of the other occasions?

Was ‘Shadow’ really just ‘phasing through’, so to say, and caught the glimpse of the Prince, recognized him, and just decided to kill him then and there? Why? Or why not? Sylas couldn’t say.

It was frustrating. He had a heading in this world, and he had a foundation, but the problem was that they were shaky and too reliant on external tools. The truth was that, without the Prince, he was no one. Prince was like a man who vouches for another during a gang initiation. Without the Prince’s vouch, Sylas was just a shabby-looking guy who couldn’t die. With enough attempts, he could likely develop his own forces, but how many attempts? And how good would those forces be?

Beyond that, his main quest was to help Valen ascend the throne. That was his current goal, and it was hardly compatible with the young pup dying. Hearing the Prince’s footsteps, Sylas shook his head and reeled his thoughts in. He had begun speculating and making up theories that were likely untrue and that could lead to a dark place. He wasn't hopeless—in fact, he was all but. If the Prince died, he would just restart the day, or the week, or the month, or however long the loop was. He tried not to think too hard about what it would do to his psyche eventually, just that it would keep the young pup alive.

And, as such, his new loop began...