Perlì casts about to see if there are any other foul beasts nearby. There are not, so he sits on the ground, gasping and hoping the wound does not get worse.
His gaze is fixed on the moon. It does not take a sage to know that, in some way, it is to blame for this apocalyptic event.
Ten minutes pass. Perlì does not rise. He does not move. He simply reflects. He reflects on how to stay alive and how to get home. These are his primary goals.
Heads up, Perlì turns his eyes to see what may be in the horizon before the creature that he had just killed. What he sees is ash and dead grass. It is simple to know that he is in the countryside, and if he would like to see a town or, better yet, another living creature, he has to go far.
Taking a breath, he slowly rises to his feet with whatever strength he has remaining, resting on his newly acquired dussack, and begins to move.
*Is there anyone here? Is there even one human being remaining?*
Perlì has no road to walk upon, but only his instincts guiding him toward something which is neither ash nor abomination.
As he proceeds, Perlì looks in every direction: ahead, behind, to his right, and to his left. Being ambushed once more would be stupid and dangerous. There are only bare trunks and not a full tree in sight. Bushes and flowers can't be seen anywhere.
Walking a hundred metres in half an hour, Perlì notices something on the horizon: swords stuck in the ground, with the remains of a quickly built fence around them. Perhaps it's a graveyard.
When he saw this change in terrain, his wound bagan to ache less and strangely his left arm was bothering him far less. Noticing this, Perlì didn't have to be told twice to take advantage of this benefit and increased his speed.
Perlì bows modestly before going in, as a sign of respect, and then proceeds into the graveyard. The cemetery was quite simple: 10 graves horizontally and 10 vertically, the swords served as tombstones, there were no inscriptions, no national symbols, no statues and no names. Just a pair of dried flowers beneath each swords.
"Someone must have been here. Finally. Whoever it is, he or she seems to care for the dead. They must be somewhere in the vicinity. Maybe they could help me." Perlì mutters to himself while he crouches down to inspect the "tomb", hoping someone would catch what he said.
He gets up and turns around, his face more subdued than before. Not even a second passes before he jumps in shock and collapses on the dry flowers of one of the graves.
There is a young woman standing quietly behind him.
"Where the hell did you come from?"
Perlì doesn't dare to utter a word. He instinctively places his hand on the hilt of his dussack. It is as if death itself has moved up behind him, determined to bury him beneath cold earth.
The woman stands in silence. She possesses a specter-like form covered in midnight blues silks that cascade like darkness about her. Her deathly pale skin, long silver hair, and icy blue eyes contrast bitterly against the black scythe she wields. The blade glows with starlight trapped within. Her form is punctuated by minute, bone-like filigree. Upon her hair lies a purple Bloombound flower unknown to Perlì in the Blossom of Radiance state.
"Who are you, and why are you here?"
Her voice is cold, and she does not take her eyes off him for even a second.
Perlì's heart skips a beat. Not having the possibility of remaining silent, he takes a deep breath and answers.
"My name is Perlì Nemunas. I arrived here, although I don't know how I arrived. I was looking for information. I did not come to disturb you. If I'm a problem to you, I will leave right now."
The woman makes her scythe vanish and finally stops gazing into Perlì's soul.
"Perlì Nemunas. Never knew the name, but I can tell you are not lying."
She begins to walk further into the graveyard. The woman walked a few steps only to be stopped by Perlì's call.
"May I ask about your Bloombound? I have never seen one like it."
The woman takes out the flower from her hair and rolls it indifferently between her index and thumb as if playing with the flower.
"It is a Hydrangea, it was assigned to me by Nihzellër, the 4th Sleeper."
*Sleeper? It must be equivalent to the Kami in my world.*
"Well, in my world, I had a Sulla. Could you help—"
The woman suddenly interrupts him as soon as she hears Sulla.
"How did you even get here?! Where are you from?!"
Perlì is shocked at her hasty change in demeanor and answers quickly.
"I am from Couesnon. I woke up in an abandoned church."
That single name, Couesnon, is enough to slowly make the woman angry. She returns the Hydrangea on her hair, summons her scythe from the darkness, and begins moving towards Perlì.
Perlì does not have to wait long to realize he might be the next one getting buried here. He unsheaths his dussack and begins to back away.
"Wait, wait. Why do you want to kill me?"
The woman steps forward, and hatred glows in her eyes, as if she has found the arch-enemy of her life.
The closer she gets, the more Perlì steps back. He expects a sideward cut and is ready to parry it. He looks deep into her eyes, hoping to find out her intention.
In place of compassion, Perlì sees letters forming in the air. Out of nowhere, as if there was a writer behind reality, a text of purple words was materializing before his eyes.
|I should try to attack on his left, I will make this outlander pay for everything.|
"What are these writings? Are you seeing them?"
Perlì hopes that she might truly hear him.
"See what? Do you think I'm seriously falling for it?
The woman speaks somewhat slower but isn't too interested in what he's saying.
Perli repeats the words read,then giving a fast look to the second part.
"I should try to attack on his left, I will make this outlander pay for everything."
The woman stops immediately. She does not lower her scythe, but she now looks at him cautiously.
"That is exactly what I was thinking. How did you find out?"
"I do not know. The wind told me so."
Perlì reacts in defense, trying to calm her down.
The woman makes her scythe vanish into thin air, instead she focuses carefully on Perlì's blazer having an unusual doubt.
"Look in your pocket, show me if you have any Bloombounds."
Perlì puts his hand on his chest, searching for his pocket, and the first thing he notices is that the wounds didn't hurt him anymore, they became scars in a period of time too short to be true.
"Wait, but I had..."
When he finally finds the pocket in his blazer, Perlì inserts his hand into his pocket more amazed than ever . Soon enough, he feels something and pulls it out: a purple seed, having a color almost identical to the one that the woman carries.
"A Bloombound? That is impossible. I already have a Sulla. It should be impossible for someone to have 2 Bloombounds..."
The woman stares at Perlì in shock. She puts her hand on her chin, considering. She lowers her eyes contemplating what she just saw. She glances back up at him after a moment of ten seconds and utters:
"A Lotus Flower...Sorry for attacking you. There was surely some mistake. For some reason, she chose you."
Perlì tilts his head to his right, confused.
"She who?"
The woman sighed because of his ignorance.
"Our Cornelia Sieglinde."