[On the Outskirts of North-East Trila, 15 minutes from East Cemetery, 20 minutes before Isabelle Vaughan's funeral. . .]
"In-finity. . . Contrivance. . . is. . . infinity. . . Contrivance. . . is. . . infinity. . . Contrivance. . . is. . . infinity. . ."
Thaos died. Agun, Rutan, and Lawrence ran off like scoundrels. Eren Seisyll watched the scene with bleak vision. Charles Vaughan remained unconscious. Emory Vaughan's crying stopped.
"Heh." Someone laughed. "Heheh." The tone grew louder. "Hahahaha!"
Eren's dainty fingers pulled at his grayish-white beard, knuckles slipping through the strands of unwashed hair. He sat on the floor next to Charles, the clear memory of the atrocity that just occurred repeating in his mind. He shakingly turned his head left and right.
It was strange why a military stop would be set up out here in the middle of nowhere.
Never mind that, Eren had no interest in formalities. What in the Totem had he just witnessed?! His teeth clattered. "F–First. . . his arms. Then, h–his legs. . . and then. . . his w–waist. . ."
He smacked the ground furiously, but flushed red when the pain recoiled. Trying to calm his beating heart, Eren's thoughts amplified.
"Have my very eyes deceived me?" He didn't wait for a reply. Eren's timid behavior disappeared, gone as if it was never there to begin with. "Have the Entities descended? Are these the end times?" The rest of the land stayed quiet.
"Hahahaha!"
After vomiting, he rubbed his eyes fiercely, staggered, and finally fell to the ground with a thud. However, he did not look in pain. Staring blankly ahead, it was like he was trying to make sense of the impossible. He was lost in thought.
The manic laughter reignited. "Have you not witnessed it? A calamity!" Eren's expression twisted with madness. "I'm just a lowly carriage driver! What is this world? Who are these people?!"
He paused, seeming to think about his own question. Then he continued, "Sorcerers? They're not real. . . they can't be! Supernatural abilities?! Haha! You have gone mad!"
He put his hand on his chest and shouted, "Well then, where are my powers?! Why wasn't I blessed?! Is this prejudice?" His cackling didn't stop.
He focused on Emory before yelling out, "A child?! No older than a month, killing a grown man? Preposterous! Crazy! Mental! He's just a baby! A filthy, fish-sucking baby!"
A plea. "Oh Entity, if you even are out there, it's about time I received some abilities, right? I've never asked much—I only ever wanted to be left alone! Funny, isn't it? That I chose to be a carriage driver, of all things? Haha!"
The pleas turned demented. "Give me! Give me! Give me!"
He screamed, the sides of his eyes reddened as veins bulged across his neck. "I need power! I need to kill her! That wretched woman. . . She took my son!"
Rage seethed within his eyes. Eren slammed his feet into the ground, kicking and crying like a little child. "Powers! Powers!" His blue and white suit was soiled with dirt.
Charles remained asleep and Emory watched the sky with blank eyes.
". . ."
Turbulent winds rattled the tumbleweeds rolling by. Dark clouds gathered and covered the sky, darkening the field in seconds. A twist, a crack, and a sonic blast reverberated intensely. First, there was blue. Next, dark red. Finally, black.
The three colors assembled into one big morph and formed a larger-than-average oval.
Blast!
Emerging from the vortex-like structure, a figure shrouded in purple fog walked proudly. Eren Seisyll's eyes widened as he watched the silhouette slowly approach.
As time passed, the cloudy-purple mist concealing this figure dispersed, revealing a terrifyingly large man.
He dressed in a black robe with multiple streaks of white running down the center. Strapped to his back were a bow and arrow, both covered in complex and haunting patterns.
His features were uncanny yet perfect: pale skin, gray eyes that seemed to erase light and life, and hair that fell precisely, layering his forehead in messy waves. His robe was sleeveless, revealing unnaturally defined muscles.
[Behedet, Fourth Mourner to the Phantom Tyrant, Lucius.]
His unblemished lips parted. "Kneel."
Eren watched in distress. "What. . ?"
"Kneel, for you have witnessed a Mourner to the Phantom and will live to tell the tale." Behedet stomped his foot on the ground.
Eren figured out what was going on, and he couldn't stop his shaking hands. "O–Okay." His manic demeanor from earlier vanished. Total submission took over.
As he watched the frantic old man prostrate, Behedet scanned the fields. In the corner, another man slept on the floor.
That one is irrelevant. . . for now. He looked further, spotting a silent child on the ground. Behedet's heart rate increased.
Him. It is him.
The prostrating Eren felt a powerful gaze on him. He heard Behedet's smooth voice say, "Eren Seisyll and Emory Vaughan have been granted permission to recite the Abolition Chronicle by the Tyrant Lucius."
Behedet raised his well-built forearm, and deathly-looking coils of gray magic spun around them. He extended it out and pointed his fingers at Eren, who hadn't lifted his head.
The grey energy flew from Behedet's forearm and entered Eren's head.
Behedet's eyes closed.
"Eren Seisyll. . . Sixty-seven years old. . . Born and raised in Gliasia, moved to Houtis at age sixty. . . divorced, with one child: Cedric. . . A man holding the façade of timidity and weakness, but harbors great greed and anger within. . ."
He paused and uttered a language Eren wasn't familiar with. "-------------------------."
Behedet retracted the grey magic from Eren's head and flicked it up into the sky. He motioned his fingers in strange patterns. The magic turned into ink, then into a long paragraph of writing. He tapped his foot on the ground again, startling Eren.
"Stand up and face the writing."
Promptly, Eren staggered to his feet and looked at the aura-filled text in front of him.
"Before you is Abolition Passage 1, an introduction to the Chronicle. As you progress the Hierarchs, increased recitation of more Chronicle verses is required to raise your power and ability." Eren's grey eyes glowed a faint hue of white.
He waited in silence. "Recite," ordered Behedet's calm voice.
Eren read the text in a monotone.
"He who bears witness to the Mourner's glory pledges allegiance to the Phantom, and to the greater power, Contrivance.
"He who acts under the precept of the Phantom and his Mourners must do so using the abilities gifted.
"He who succumbs to the Crown shall be stripped from his abilities and killed without mercy! He who wishes for power from the Phantom, but does not repay them with Authority in abundance, shall face a punishment worse than death!
"He shall garner unearthly abilities subsequent to the first recitation.
"Those departed from existence who sense his power shall follow with him certainty. The mask of skin shall be warped to his will entirely. Illusions and actuality know no differences to him, and he shall bend them to his behest. Barriers become fallacy, and he convalesces with few reservations.
"Verily, he will understand: While the Phantom is ruler, Contrivance is Almighty."
Eren tumbled to the ground, spasming and gasping for air.
Behedet apathetically glowered. "Obey the Phantom, repay him with Authority, and you shall bear the fruits of your labor."
Eren awakened, his body flickering between visibility and its counterpart. He stared at his hands and feet with wide eyes. "I understand."
A serene silence menaced the distorted area, silencing the once howling wind. Craters of destroyed ground speckled all over the place as Eren stood.
He slowly turned his head and locked eyes with Behedet, who solemnly clasped his hands, uttering thanks to the Phantom.
"Mourner Behedet. . ." Eren choked out, stepping down on one knee and lowering his head. His ruffled hair fell before his eyes, soiled and torn.
"Follow the instructions given to you carefully." Behedet turned and walked toward Emory, who was lying emotionless on the floor.
Eren's eyes widened before a wicked smile maliciously spread across his face. A portion of his hand was invisible, while the other remained untouched. Chuckling, he remarked, "I can feel it. . ." and raised both his hands into the air.
The fabric of his soiled suit tore slightly at the underarm. "It's surging through my veins. . . My body is shifting! Heh. Heheh. Heheheheh. I'm no longer weak!"
His lips curled upwards venomously. Speaking in a dark, cruel tone, he muttered, "I'm coming for you, Elsa." His body twitched and spiraled before gradually disappearing from sight.
Eren Seisyll had turned completely invisible. And by his own, very will.
. . . .
After surveying Eren and watching him disappear, Behedet the Mourner headed toward the baby lying on the ground. His footsteps crushed the earth unsparingly.
Towering over the child, he conjured the gray magic once more, and it began to coil around his arms. He aimed his wrist toward Emory, surging the magic into the baby's chest cavity.
"Hm. . ." Behedet closed his eyes.
"Emory Vaughan. . . Born fourteen days ago. . . Coincidentally on the first day of the Great Sacrificial Era. . . Fathered by Charles Vaughan. . . His mother, Isabelle Vaughan, died post-birth. . ."
He switched to the incomprehensible language. "--------------------------------."
Behedet motioned the wisps of ink that had formed the previous paragraph to come and float directly above Emory. Many new grey flickers surrounded the baby's body and rapidly spun, lifting him off the ground.
"Recite," the calm order left Behedet's lips. Emory's eyes glowed with a certain, colorless hue. A voice surfaced from his little mouth, one unfit for his body and demeanor as a baby.
"He who. . ."
. . . .
After finishing the recitation, the grey flickers slowly descended, along with Emory, to the ground. Crimson finally returned to his eyes. Emory's gaze darted side to side, looking for his beloved fish.
Noticing this, Behedet snapped his fingers, returning the fish to Emory's grasp.
"Once you are seventeen years of age, you will come to understand the terms of your recitation. For now, no recollection of this incident will remain."
The baby did not nod nor show any confirmation of understanding. Instead, Emory stayed silent, his maroon eyes focused on Behedet's bow and arrow.
The fog that had shrouded them in darkness churned. Looking up at the sky, Behedet calmly thought, It's time to leave.
Lifting his hand up, he grabbed the intangible sky and motioned violently, causing the area to tremble and quake. A tear in the air opened as the skies cried out via thunder and lightning.
A portal, dark-purple and black, rapidly formed.
The sound of faint mourns scattered throughout the vicinity. It was the sound of denial, a timid, "Please don't go," reverberating in Behedet's ear.
On closer inspection, it wasn't one voice. It was multiple. Millions.
They were soft, pleading cries, subconsciously making any listener want to help them.
Grimacing, Behedet squinted his eyelids shut, trying to drown out the ethereal pleas showering his ears. They called out, "Please don't leave me here," and "Please take me back."
Stomping his foot on the ground, Behedet angrily declared, "You can never go back!"
The voices ceased.
Sigh.
He stepped forward and approached the torn sky hole oozing malice. Inside the oval, a black and purple tint outlined the edges. With one foot inside, Behedet turned only his head and exhaled. He eyed the little boy on the ground with a stern expression.
Emory Vaughan.
He walked through the vigorously shaking portal right before it collapsed. The purple and black fog that had previously sucked the life out of the area had finally diminished.
Clear skies returned to North-East Trila.