THE SHAMAN'S POTION, REMARKABLY POTENT, YET VILE BEYOND BELIEF. IT WAS AS THOUGH THE ONE WHO CONCOCTED IT HADN'T CONSIDERED THAT IT WOULD EVER HAVE TO BE CONSUMED.
AS BASTIAN CHEWED THE THICK, SYRUPY LIQUID, THE TEXTURE CLUNG TO HIS MOUTH, ALMOST LIKE IT HAD A MIND OF ITS OWN. HE COULD HEAR A FAINT, EERIE WAILING, WHETHER IT CAME FROM WITHIN THE POTION OR HIS OWN MIND, HE COULDN'T TELL. THE COMBINATION OF THE TASTE, TEXTURE, AND THE HAUNTING SOUND MADE HIS STOMACH CHURN VIOLENTLY.
HE GAGGED, THE URGE TO VOMIT GROWING STRONGER WITH EACH PASSING SECOND. BUT HE FOUGHT IT BACK. THE OLD SHAMAN HAD WARNED HIM THAT THE POTION WOULD LOSE ALL ITS EFFECTIVENESS IF EXPELLED, AND ITS INGREDIENTS WERE RARE, PAINSTAKINGLY GATHERED, AND IRREPLACEABLE. VOMITING NOW WOULD MEAN WASTING AN OPPORTUNITY THAT MIGHT NEVER COME AGAIN.
HIS BODY REACTED TO THE POTION AS IF REJECTING IT ENTIRELY. BASTIAN'S BREATHING BECAME LABORED, HIS SKIN PRICKLED WITH DISCOMFORT, AND A HEADACHE BEGAN POUNDING AT HIS TEMPLES. HIS VISION BLURRED WITH DIZZINESS AS HE STUMBLED FORWARD, TRYING DESPERATELY TO KEEP HIS COMPOSURE.
AND THEN, SUDDENLY, "HUH?" HIS THOUGHTS WERE INTERRUPTED. HE BLINKED IN DISBELIEF AS HE SAW A FAMILIAR FIGURE LYING UNCONSCIOUS BEFORE HIM. THE MASSIVE, STILL BODY... IT WAS HIM.
PANIC WASHED OVER HIM AS HE REALIZED HIS SOUL HAD BEEN WRENCHED FROM HIS PHYSICAL FORM. HE FLOATED, WEIGHTLESS, STARING DOWN AT HIS OWN LIFELESS BODY.
"WAS I... PUSHED OUT BY THAT AWFUL POTION?" HE WONDERED ALOUD, THOUGH NO SOUND SEEMED TO ESCAPE HIS SPECTRAL LIPS. THE WORLD AROUND HIM WAS MUTED, DRAINED OF LIFE AND COLOR. ONLY SHADES OF BLACK AND WHITE STRETCHED IN ALL DIRECTIONS. GRAY EARTH. WHITE SKY. SHADOWS EVERYWHERE.
"IS THIS... THE AFTERLIFE?"
THE SCENE WAS EERILY FAMILIAR, REMINISCENT OF DREAMS THAT HAD HAUNTED HIM FOR AS LONG AS HE COULD REMEMBER. IN THOSE DREAMS, THE WORLD HAD ALWAYS BEEN LIKE THIS, COLORLESS, BARREN, AND DEVOID OF HOPE. EVERYTHING APPEARED TO BE CRUMBLING UNDER THE WEIGHT OF TIME, AS THOUGH THE LAND HAD BEEN ABANDONED FOR CENTURIES. THE AIR WAS THICK WITH DESPAIR, AND BASTIAN COULDN'T SHAKE THE FEELING THAT IN THIS REALM, ONLY DEATH LINGERED.
BUT WHAT STRUCK HIM AS MOST BIZARRE WERE THE FAINT TRACES OF COLOR CLINGING TO THE LIVING SOULS HE COULD STILL SEE. HIS COMPANIONS, NOW ATTENDING TO HIS UNCONSCIOUS BODY, GLOWED FAINTLY AS IF SOMETHING WITHIN THEM WAS SLOWLY FADING. HE COULD SEE THEM MOVING, HEAR THEIR MUFFLED VOICES, YET THEY FELT SO DISTANT, AS THOUGH THEY EXISTED IN A DIFFERENT REALITY ENTIRELY.
"SOLESIA?" HE THOUGHT, BEWILDERED. "HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE?"
THE SCENE STIRRED SOMETHING IN BASTIAN, REMINDING HIM OF THE STRANGE REPORTS FROM THE NORTH. COULD IT BE THAT THE MYSTERIOUS PHENOMENA THERE, PEOPLE LOSING THEMSELVES TO STRANGE FORGETFULNESS, WAS SOMEHOW CONNECTED TO THIS? WAS IT ALL PART OF SOME TWISTED EXPERIMENT BY THE ELVES? HAD THEY BEEN QUIETLY TESTING THE BOUNDARIES OF LIFE AND DEATH ALL ALONG?
BUT THERE HAD BEEN NO WIDESPREAD REPORTS OF MEMORY LOSS LATELY. OR WAS HE SIMPLY OUT OF THE LOOP? THE WORLD WAS AT WAR, AFTER ALL. THOUSANDS DIED EVERY DAY, AND NO ONE QUESTIONED A PERSON SUDDENLY COLLAPSING. THERE WAS NO TIME TO CARE ABOUT SUCH THINGS IN THE MIDDLE OF A WAR.
BASTIAN TRIED TO COMMUNICATE, REACHING OUT TO THE SHAMAN WHO STOOD NEARBY. HE WAVED, SHOUTED, BUT HIS EFFORTS WERE IN VAIN. THE SHAMAN COULDN'T HEAR HIM. STILL, BASTIAN NOTICED THAT THE MAN'S EYES OCCASIONALLY FLICKED AROUND AS THOUGH HE SENSED SOMETHING WAS THERE, SOMETHING HE COULDN'T QUITE SEE.
THE POTION, THOUGH HORRIFYING IN TASTE, HAD DONE ITS JOB IN PART. THE SHAMAN HAD KEPT BASTIAN'S SOUL FROM DRIFTING OFF INTO THE VOID, BUT CALLING IT BACK TO HIS BODY WOULD BE ANOTHER MATTER ENTIRELY. TIME WAS RUNNING OUT. EVERY SECOND IN THIS STATE WAS PRECIOUS, AND IF HE DIDN'T FIGURE OUT HOW TO RETURN TO HIS BODY SOON, HE FEARED THE WORST.
BASTIAN ATTEMPTED TO MOVE, AND TO HIS SURPRISE, HE FLOATED GENTLY FORWARD. THE SENSATION WAS STRANGE, LIKE SWIMMING THROUGH THICK AIR. HE WASN'T ACCUSTOMED TO THIS NEW, WEIGHTLESS EXISTENCE, SO HE CAUTIOUSLY PUT ONE FOOT DOWN AND FOUND HE COULD STILL WALK, ALBEIT CLUMSILY.
AS HE MADE HIS WAY TOWARD THE MASSIVE PIT AT THE CENTER OF THE ROOM, HE FELT A GENTLE TUG, AS IF SOMETHING WAS CALLING HIM CLOSER. THE PULL WAS IRRESISTIBLE. THERE, AT THE EDGE OF THE PIT, HIS COMPANIONS STOOD, THEIR FACES SHROUDED IN SHADOW. THEY SEEMED UNAWARE OF HIS PRESENCE AS THEY TENDED TO HIS LIFELESS BODY.
HE OPENED HIS MOUTH TO SPEAK, TO CALL OUT TO THEM, BUT ALL THAT ESCAPED HIS LIPS WAS A GUST OF COLD WIND, NOTHING MORE THAN A WHISPER LOST TO THE VOID.
DESPERATION GRIPPED HIM AS HE WATCHED THE SCENE UNFOLD, HIS HEART POUNDING, THOUGH HE WAS UNSURE IF HE EVEN HAD A HEART IN THIS FORM. HIS WORDS FAILED HIM, AND HIS EYES DARTED AROUND IN SEARCH OF SOME SOLUTION, SOME WAY TO FIX THE MESS HE'D FOUND HIMSELF IN.
BUT THE LONGER HE LINGERED IN THIS SPECTRAL WORLD, THE MORE ANXIETY CLAWED AT HIS INSIDES. TIME WAS SLIPPING AWAY, AND BASTIAN HAD NO IDEA HOW MUCH LONGER HIS SOUL COULD REMAIN TETHERED TO THIS WORLD BEFORE IT WAS LOST FOREVER.
UNLIKE BASTIAN, WHO WAS FULLY CONSCIOUS AND AWARE, THE "COMPANIONS" WALKING AHEAD OF HIM SEEMED TRAPPED IN A STATE OF SILENT SUFFERING. THEIR MOVEMENTS WERE STIFF, AND THEIR FACES WERE TWISTED WITH PAIN, RESEMBLING THE UNDEAD BASTIAN HAD ONCE SEEN IN FRONT OF THE TOWER, LOST SOULS CONDEMNED TO ETERNAL UNREST.
"DID SOMEONE ACTUALLY DIE?" BASTIAN WHISPERED TO HIMSELF, ASTONISHED. "AREN'T CLAIRVOYANTS SUPPOSED TO HAVE STRONG SOULS? EVEN IF A SOUL-WALK FAILS, THEY SHOULDN'T JUST... DIE."
HE TURNED BACK SHARPLY, HIS HEART POUNDING, ONLY TO CATCH THE UNEASY EXPRESSIONS ON THE FACES OF THE SHAMANS AND WITCH DOCTORS STANDING NEAR HIS FALLEN COMPANIONS. THEIR EYES WERE WIDE WITH SHOCK, THEIR HANDS TREMBLING. CLEARLY, THIS WAS NOT PART OF THE PLAN.
EVERYTHING UNFOLDING BEFORE HIM HAD SPIRALED OUT OF CONTROL. ALMOST HALF OF THE CLAIRVOYANTS HAD PERISHED INSTANTLY AFTER TAKING THE POTION, THEIR BODIES LIMP, THEIR SOULS LOST. THE REST, THOSE STILL BREATHING, WORE EXPRESSIONS OF EXCRUCIATING PAIN, AS IF THEIR SOULS WERE BEING PULLED APART FROM WITHIN.
BASTIAN SURVEYED THE SCENE AROUND HIM, SCANNING THE FACES OF HIS COMRADES. VERY FEW SEEMED TO BE AS AWARE AS HE WAS. MOST OF THOSE WHO HADN'T IMMEDIATELY DIED WERE BARELY HANGING ON, THEIR FACES CONTORTED IN AGONY. IT WAS A BATTLEFIELD OF MINDS AND SPIRITS, AND THE CASUALTIES WERE MOUNTING.
A SUDDEN VOICE INTERRUPTED HIS THOUGHTS. "GO," THE VOICE COMMANDED WITH QUIET AUTHORITY. "PERHAPS FATE HAS CHOSEN YOU. YOU SEEM TO BE THE ONLY ONE FAVORED. MAY YOUR FORTUNE GUIDE US TOWARD THE LIGHT."
STARTLED, BASTIAN TURNED TOWARD THE SPEAKER. IT WAS A SENIOR MEMBER OF THE COALITION FORCES, SOMEONE WHOSE VOICE CARRIED BOTH WISDOM AND SORROW.
"MISS GWENITH?" BASTIAN MUTTERED IN DISBELIEF. HE'D ONLY EVER HEARD OF THIS PERSON; AN ENIGMATIC, YOUNG-SEEMING WOMAN WHO HELD A HIGH RANK WITHIN THE COALITION. BASTIAN HAD NEVER EXPECTED HER TO BE HERE, AMONG THE CLAIRVOYANTS, LET ALONE ADDRESSING HIM DIRECTLY. IT DAWNED ON HIM NOW, SHE, TOO, WAS ONE OF THEM, A CLAIRVOYANT NAVIGATING THIS STRANGE, LIMINAL SPACE BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH.
HE LOOKED AROUND AT THE CHAOS. HIS COMPANIONS WERE EITHER LOST, CONFUSED, OR DYING. HE REALIZED, IN THAT MOMENT, THAT HE MIGHT BE ONE OF THE ONLY ONES LEFT CAPABLE OF TAKING THE LEAD.
NODDING SOLEMNLY, BASTIAN BEGAN TO WALK FORWARD, STEP BY CAUTIOUS STEP, UNSURE OF WHERE EXACTLY HE WAS GOING BUT DRIVEN BY A STRANGE COMPULSION TO FOLLOW THOSE WHO HAD GONE BEFORE HIM. PERHAPS THAT WAS ALL THERE WAS TO DO; FOLLOW THE DEAD AND SEE WHERE THEY LED.
BUT AS HE VENTURED DEEPER INTO THIS MYSTERIOUS WORLD, BASTIAN COULDN'T SHAKE THE FEELING THAT SOMETHING WAS TERRIBLY WRONG. THE SHAMANS' PLAN SEEMED... FLAWED. AS THEY MOVED FORWARD, HE NOTICED THAT THE SOULS OF OTHERS BEGAN TO EITHER DISSIPATE INTO THIN AIR OR VANISH INTO THE GROUND WITHOUT A TRACE, SWALLOWED UP BY THE EARTH AS THOUGH THEY HAD NEVER EXISTED.