An Accessory To Remember Pt 01

Editor's note:

This story is a dark fantasy that intends to deal with themes of domination, dubious consent, mind control, revenge as well as moral change and personality change. The primary focus is on slow-burn corruption and gradual brainwashing. If you find these darker concepts unappealing, that's reasonable and I'd recommend giving this story a miss. If you have a bit of a sadistic streak or appreciate darker themes and endings, this may appeal to you.

"I feel invincible. I might as well be a god, they all mocked me, they all scorned me, and now, they will learn to worship me, for soon the world shall come to fear the name..."

I stopped speaking, I could no longer speak.

I felt like something had just pierced through my neck.

I can feel something hot drip down my body, something smells metallic.

I can feel my body falling forward.

I feel my cheek contact the cold stone floor.

The sensation fades.

Everything fades.

Everything ceases.

There is nothing.

I am nothing.

Something changes, I feel myself awaking from the deepest sleep I'd ever had.

I feel strange, the world is hazy, out of focus, yet I can't close my eyes, I can't feel my body.

Yet I feel calm, I feel nothing but calm, if I've ever known any emotion besides complete and utter calm, I couldn't say.

In my haziness, I can see a figure, but try as I might, my eyes won't focus, undefined splotches of black cover my vision.

I can hear a sound, but it's too distant. Is it speech? Is this what words sound like?

Suddenly, my hearing returns, and I can make out the words spoken to me.

"Six hours... six hours... and you're already dead, deceased, exhausted, decapitated, stabbed clean through the stomach, disembowelled, dead as the leather in my boots... I don't know what I was expecting." I could hear the voice more clearly now, If I had to describe the tone, I'd say it was a combination of exasperated, exhausted and annoyed.

Wait. Is the figure talking to me?

"Am I dead?" I try to speak, yet I can make no sound.

My mind continues to race, the past couple seconds/minutes/hours/years beginning to make sense. "Was I killed? Was that what I felt?" My inner thoughts started to become more assertive, the overwhelming calmness I felt started to fade, I could once again feel fear.

"I can't be dead, I can't be dead, I can't be fucking dead, I can't be dead." I felt something of a panic overtaking me.

"I restored your hearing, and I'm confident your brain hasn't completely decayed, so I'm going to need you to speak back to me, if we're going to get anywhere, focus your thoughts, that'll let you transmit them to me, if you're no longer capable of that, then I'll stop forestalling the totality of your death." The hazy figure responded, tone as cold as ice, ending my panic as I struggled to comply.

"Focus my thoughts? What does that mean, crap, crap..."

I frantically began to try and push thoughts to towards the figure, whatever that meant, I frantically began trying to push a single word towards the figure "Alive. Alive. Alive"

"I can hear you're alive, so, if you could stop repeating yourself that'd be great."

"Sorry... you said I'm dead, you're kidding, right?" I tried transmitting to the figure.

"The sky is blue, the grass is green, your head, body and vital organs are several rooms apart from one another, you can figure it out from there." I could sense a twinge of brevity in the figure's voice.

"Shit... how did I-" I didn't get to finish speaking before the figure interrupted me.

"You've majorly inconvenienced me for the record, while I wasn't expecting you to live forever, I don't think a year at minimum is an unreasonable expectation, do you?"

"I didn't mean to die."

"Does anyone?" The figure's voice held no hint of levity, it was annoyed now.

"I... don't want to die, it felt cold, it felt strange."

"You're stating the obvious once more, why? What do you expect me to do? Your body is completely and utterly destroyed, there isn't a priest, mage or doctor who'd look at your body and conclude it's fixable, I saw half of your lower intestine on the way in here, and I've yet to find the other half, get the picture of how utterly unfixable your current state is?"

"Who are you anyways, are you Death?"

I was starting to realize just how royally fucked I was, my mind needed something to latch onto, some way to fix this, and the fact this figure was talking to me showed they had some control over death at least, surely, they could do something.

"Hmm... I'm guessing from that response your memories have decayed to a frankly worrying degree, well, know this, you made an agreement with me for power, you owe me a great deal." The figure paused to let those words sink in.

"Yet it would seem that my investment was a mistake..." the figure's voice once more took on an icy edge, and I felt a terrifying presence bearing down on me, I'm already dead, yet somehow my mind understood intuitively that I was in danger, that yet more harm could await me.

"Never mind that for now, tell me, what do you remember?" The figure's menacing aura had not completely faded, yet I could feel it soften, as if it was restraining itself.

"I remember gloating, I remember pain. That is all." My reply was short and honest, it was all I had, lying felt like a bad idea, all I could do was be honest, and the honest truth was I'd forgotten everything.

"That's unfortunate... if that's all you know..." The figure responded curtly, with no small amount of annoyance, I sensed it was building up to saying something truly horrifying.

Honesty, it seemed, was not the correct answer, I started to panic, I needed to get ahead of whatever it planned to reveal.

"I want to live, I refuse to die... please, just help me" It was all I could think of to say, I had no past to work with, no information, all I could do was make a plea, beg for my own life.

"It would seem you're trying to live beyond your means." The hazy figure gave a chuck at what it seemed to believe was a joke, at least it seemed less angry.

Despair started filling my empty head, as I scrambled for anything else to say.

"I want revenge, I want to find whoever did this to me, I want my revenge, surely I deserve that, right?" I remembered nothing of my killer, I simply said whatever came to mind, whatever might help me.

"A goal I can agree with, but as I've said, your body is dead, and your soul is dying, nothing I can do will change that."

I felt myself freeze, as I contemplated the weight of those words.

My body is dead.

My soul is dying.

"There must be something you can do, anything."

The hazy figure began to emit a low hum, before finally speaking.

"When I came here, I came to try and recoup some of my investment, yet your killer understood how to kill someone permanently, if it were a simple stab through the stomach, there would be little trouble in reviving you, but no magic could save your destroyed cadaver, I imagine it'd be easier to conjure up a whole new body than fix this one... and before you ask, I can't do that either."

I sat in silence what felt like an eternity, contemplating the figure's words. Before I could think of anything to say, it broke the silence.

"Actually... maybe I'm thinking about this the wrong way, what if your body does not need to be saved after all, hmm... perhaps it'd be possible..."

The figure seemed pleased with itself as it trailed off, it had thought of something. As grim as its words were, I felt a shiver of hope in my mind as the figure resumed speaking.

"There would be no point in saving your soul if your gift has been lost... at that point I'm just indulging in a sunk-cost fallacy... I'm going to perform a test, to decide if you still have value, I'm going to let a memory seep out of my mental guard for a moment, grab onto it, if you can do that, I'll see what I can do."

I had no idea what it meant by any of that, but I felt a small sliver of ethereal light seep out of the figure, and with a small amount of focus, I felt my consciousness latch onto it, and suddenly, my vision cleared.

The figure was gone.

A vast field of wheat stretched out in front of me, I could hear faint laughter in the distance. There were no people, yet I could feel a tranquil energy emanating from this place.

Then it was gone, I was back in the hazy room, my vision once more growing darker by the second.

"It seems your gift still functions... dubiously, but I can see potential, even in its diminished state. Listen closely, here's what's I'm planning."

The figure took a breath and resumed speaking, a certain level of self-satisfied delight in its voice. "Right now, I'm speaking to your severed head, your soul is slowly dying as your flesh rots, despite my best attempts to slow the decay, your death is inevitable, so I've come up with a solution, your body is doomed, yet, your soul might be salvageable from the wreck, I'm going to try and extract your soul, and place it inside something compatible, an object most likely."

"That's... okay, I accept." That didn't sound pleasant, the idea of having my soul ripped out, or living as an object both sounded awful in ways I struggled to comprehend, but my options were functionally non-existent.

"I just need an object with significance to your soul, it needs to be something of some significance to you, for the soul to transfer properly." The figure seemed to pause for a second, seemingly thinking, before it disappeared, reappearing only a moment later.

"I want you to have a look at these baubles I retrieved off your torso, do any of these sparks a reaction?" The figure posed the question before I saw the vague outlines of golden objects enter my field of view.

"It's blurry, I can't see anything."

"Oh, right... your eyes have decayed."

The figure's hand emitted a flash of red light, and I felt my vision improve. Slightly.

I could make out the rough appearance of various golden accessories in the figure's hand, bracelets, rings, brooches, all made of shining gold, and studded with gems.

They sparked no connection.

"None of these... do these really belong to me?" My question was an honest one, I truly had no idea if anything the figure held was mine.

The figure gave no words as a response, and simply pulled its hands back, before thrusting forward some slightly different looking jewelry.

Yet more shining gold and gems that bore no significance to my mind.

"I don't remember these either."

The figure seemed to pause, before getting up from its crouching position beside my head, and leaving, it seemed like a minute passed before it returned.

"I found this in your pocket, so last chance, rummaging around in blood-soaked pockets is hardly worth my time."

The figure produced was a small copper pendant, with an artistically dubious rendition of a dragon etched across its surface.

I remember.

Memories flood into me.

I remember feeling small.

I remember a smiling face.

I remember a dream of love, lust and glory. emotions and memories flood into me; the specifics lost but the emotions remained. I couldn't speak.

"You remember something, don't you?" The figure's voice carried with it a hint of joy.

"I refuse to die a nobody, I refuse to be forgotten." It wasn't a direct answer to the figure's question, it was simply a belief that had forced itself into my mind, the last piece of myself that remained, when everything else had faded away.

The figure let loose a low, quiet chuckle "There's the fiend I remember, now, I'm going to transfer your soul, I'm going to give you another chance at life, and as I do, I'm going to tell you what you're going to do for me in exchange for my continued generosity."

I felt strange again, like my soul was being lightly tugged out of my body, yet as the feeling intensified, I began to feel just how cold my flesh felt, and suddenly, I realized just how desperate I was to escape my dying flesh.

"Ignore the sensations, it's me who needs to worry about keeping your soul intact, you just need to focus on my instructions." The figure voice took on a calming quality as it spoke, in some strange way, it felt like it was trying to calm me, reassure me. Odd.

"You were murdered. You pledged vengeance. I need you to follow through on that pledge, that vow wasn't made in jest, was it?"

"No."

"Good, because the terms of your repayment are simple. The woman who killed you is presently a thorn in my side, but I believe you can turn her into an asset, I want you to subjugate her very soul."

"Subjugate her soul? You mean kill her?"

"If I wanted someone dead, I'd prefer to do it myself, more fun that way, no. I want you to do what I cannot. Break her mentally, bend her to your will, turn her into a useful puppet, that'll be the first stage of your repayment."

"How am I supposed to..."

"In life, the gift I awoke in you was the power to rewrite memories, while those powers have likely faded as your soul withered away, I've confirmed they still function, so I want you to attach yourself to her, and I want you to rewrite her memories until she's nice and loyal, or at the very least subservient to your will."

"Okay, I... I think I can do that... but how will I attach myself?"

"I'll handle the initial attachment, the soul transfer is about to commence, if I see good work from you, we may meet again soon, and if I'm disappointed in your work... we will meet again very soon."

"Okay, can I just ask a few more quest-"

Everything went black.

Three soldiers patrolled the hallways, desperately searching for their master's murderer.

Loyal puppets, their conditioning unbroken by the demise of their master.

They were the last defenders of a nearly empty castle.

Huddled together, they attempted a defensive formation, peering into the darkness, looking for their assailant.

They'd only caught glimpses of their enemy, yet the hallways were piled high with bodies, fellow soldiers, loyal to the eternal master, all cut down by a single foe, the dread ranger, Aranea.

The remaining guardians fared no better than their peers, their huddled formation and false bravado did nothing to save them. The most heavily armored of the three stood in front of his comrades, great shield raised. The reward for his stalwart defense was a lightning-fast slash to the neck, and a near instant death.

His surviving compatriots let out a brief gasp as small spurts of blood covered their heads; their gasps were cut short by another slash delivered with the same brutal speed as had claimed the lives of their comrades. They died without offering an ounce of meaningful resistance.

With that, the last vestiges of the eternal master's dominion, the powerful sorcerer whose reign of terror lasted approximately six hours. (Rounded up.)

"That was suspiciously easy." For the first time in hours, Aranea spoke, her voice breaking the eerie silence of the now empty castle.

Six hours ago, a man had entered this castle, and with seeming a wave of his hand, had taken it over, won the hearts and minds of everyone present, then declared himself lord.

Aranea had heard of his takeover a mere two hours ago, and had departed almost immediately, sensing time was of the essence, with that power, she could only imagine the havoc he could wreak.

Now, she was beginning to feel she may have expected too much, frankly, she was starting to wonder if this was all a joke at her expense, or a trap.

"

This was easy, far too easy... servants of Ruen tend to be monsters in their own right... This man managed to overtake an entire castle with nothing but a wave of his hand, a bloodless absolute victory. He must have been one of her chosen, her gifted, but..."

Aranea's mind raced, trying to rationalize the events of the past hour.

"

He just... died, no resistance, he was barely paying attention, he was monologuing to himself, paying no attention to his surroundings, he left no guards, he had no secret techniques, he just left himself wide open, he didn't suspect a thing until I stabbed him clean through the neck... and that was it, he just died..."

Aranea wanted to say that she'd done the impossible, that she'd slain a chosen of Ruen, single handedly killed what might have been one of the greatest enemies of the children of the benign goddess before they'd even managed to truly become dangerous, and yet... it was too easy, it was easier to believe that she had been deceived and outsmarted, than to believe she had succeeded.

It wasn't supposed to be this easy.

The power of the eternal master seemed so great that the only way to rationalize its existence was a connection to the empress of Ruen, that it was power bestowed by the bane of hope herself. However, that power seemed more dubious considering how his head had rolled off his shoulders with nary a hint of resistance.

Aranea decided to stop dwelling on the matter, the crisis had been averted. The Sorcerer was dead, unfortunately his control had persisted even after his death, so she'd been forced to cutdown some of his victims, mostly the castle guards, lest they start attacking innocents in the name of avenging their dead master.

"It's time to stop overthinking this, I'll leave that to the strategists in the palace, it's time to focus on the positives."

Aranea, while not the most profit-motivated of heroes, had managed to profit heavily from her heroic expedition, despite this not being a paid request, and little more than a plea for help from some escaped castle guards, she'd most likely be paid for her efforts, once the kingdom had inspected the castle and confirmed her exploits.

Whatmore, The eternal master, whomever he was, seemed to have a thing for gaudy jewelry, tasteless rings, pendants and fabrics adorned his body to such an extent that Aranea had filled her pockets and two bags with jewels off the corpse, and hadn't managed to take even half of the gaudy jewelry on offer, she'd then dismembered the corpses, figuring it'd be best to ensure that revival would be as difficult as possible.

Performing one final check on the eternal master's body to ensure he was in fact, still dead, Aranea found her eye caught by something in the corner of the room, a pile of pendants and necklaces, which had once been placed around the eternal masters neck, they'd been careless thrown to the corner of the room, while Aranea had appraised valuables in her post-murder looting, all the necklaces in the pile contained either fake gems, or were made of a fake gold substance, while their previous wearer was unaware of the inauthenticity of their materials, Aranea's keen eyes had spotted their low worth, and had decided against them taking up space in her bag, choosing instead to throw them into the corner, out of sight, out of mind.

Yet, there was a necklace in the pile that caught her attention more than should have been possible, a small copper pendant, of dubious make, and equally dubious depiction of a dragon, which bore a stronger resemblance to a chicken that a fire-breathing lizard.

Aranea was sure of two things, the first being that this pendant hadn't been one of the many she discarded, they were all gaudy pendants of fool's gold or fabricated gems. The pendant didn't match anything the eternal master would wear, it didn't look like something he'd own, it stuck out like a sore thumb.

The second thing she was sure of, is that she wanted it, despite all the logical parts of her brain telling her it was worthless, valueless, that she had twenty different necklaces in her bag of higher value, she still felt a strong compulsion that the necklace was valuable, that it was something worth having.

Magic was one of the most powerful forces in the world, any hero who expected to live long had either the training or the equipment to resist common spells, usually, this meant fireballs, or other spells meant to cause physical harm, rarely, it meant spells aimed to cause mental harm, confusion magic being common amongst more experienced mages.