>Derbyshire, 1998“Dad! Dad! Watch this!”>A young girl bursts into a small office space, the dimensions of which betray its former nature as a box room. >Seeing the girl, the man in the room pulls away from the desk that he’s sitting at, moving

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[Solo] - Which Was, and Which Is To Come Revo 11/11/24 (Mon) 22:00:48 No.3843

>Derbyshire, 1998

“Dad! Dad! Watch this!”

>A young girl bursts into a small office space, the dimensions of which betray its former nature as a box room.

>Seeing the girl, the man in the room pulls away from the desk that he’s sitting at, moving some papers under some others to hide them away, and turns to face the girl.

“Sounds important. . .”

>Grinning, the girl holds up a toy sword in the air.

“Bew. . . bew. . . look out evildo. . . evildo. . . vill. . . bad guys! Super slash!”

>The girl dramatically brings the toy sword down and slashes with it, stopping as it hits the frame of the door, nicking off some of the white paint on it.

>With an amused chuckle, the man stands up from his chair and kneels down in front of the girl.

“Very impressive, I’m sure even the fiercest of monsters would be beaten back by that move. But. . .”

>The man leans around the girl, and picks up the fragment of paint knocked off by her moves, showing it to her.

“. . .a true knight is always aware of his or her surroundings, otherwise they might harm someone innocent.”

Revo 11/11/24 (Mon) 22:02:01 No.3844

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>>3843
>Date: October 31st, 2017
>Location: Holy Trinity Church, Stanton-in-Peak, Derbyshire, UK

“Hi dad. . .”

>A young, red-haired woman stands over a grave, a light rain gently washing over the surrounding area, the grave itself being relatively dry thanks to an umbrella in the woman’s hand.

“. . .I know it’s been a while. . . ‘too long’, you’d say, but it was hard coming here - and it’s not like you can hear me anyway, right?”

>The woman sighs.

“Anyway. . . guess I should tell you what I’ve been up to, yeah? Well, I got into Oxford, just like you and mum. I did well there, really well, really, I’m a doctor and everything now!”

>The woman lets out a tired chuckle.

“Heh. . . well, not, like, a medical doctor, a doctor in art history. You know, because art like mum and history like you. . .”

“Oh, and I joined a band, well, I helped found one. We broke up though. Wasn’t drama or anything, just, y’know, drifted apart after we graduated. Uh. . .”

>The woman shuffles slightly, trying to think of things to say.

“. . .I got a boyfriend. . . that didn’t work out. Then I got a girlfriend. . . that one didn’t work out too. . . You always used to make it sound so easy with you and mum. . . Oh!”

>The woman awkwardly digs in a shoulder bag, taking out a smartphone and scrolling through several pictures until she reaches one.

“I got my art displayed next to mum’s! For like a week, but that still counts, right? Yeah you’d say it counts. She would’ve loved it, you’d say. . .”

>The woman sighs again.

“. . .as for how doing. . . I mean, I guess it could be better. . . I mean, like, I’m not starving. . .”

>The woman adds a quiet “yet” under her breath.

“. . .but it’s not like you can use a PhD in Art History for an office job or something, you know? And I had to sell the house when I went to Oxford because it’s not like I could commute from here. . . But. . . but! I might have a proper job lined up. You see, there’s a lady from nearby, a Ms Carew. Apparently she’s got a big private collection so she needs someone to manage it. So. . .”

>The woman kneels down and bats away some weeds from the grave.

“Wish me luck, ok, dad?”

Revo 11/11/24 (Mon) 22:09:00 No.3845

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>>3844
>Carew Mansion, Derbyshire, UK

>The woman pulls up to an iron gate outside the grounds of the mansion and awkwardly looks at it a moment before noticing an intercom.

“Ah. . .”

>Reversing back slightly, the woman presses the button to ring, and drums her steering wheel as the intercom rings, jolting suddenly as it crackles to indicate someone has answered it.

“”Hello, what business do you have here?”

“I. . . ah. . . I’m here for the job interview, I was told to come to this address?”

>The intercom goes silent again and the woman sighs, slumping with hands still on the steering wheel, a defeated look on her face. With a sigh, she looks up through the window at the rain forming patterns on it, only for them to be eliminated by the window wipers.

“Who am I kidding? Who’d want to-”

“Come in, the mistress is expecting you.”

>With a buzz, the gates of the mansion begin to open, allowing the woman to bring her car closer to the door, her driving taking somewhat of an awkward turn as the vehicle goes over the wet gravel laid out as a driveway. Stopping in front of the door, the woman begins the awkward process of getting out of her car without getting wet, and then makes her way over to the door.

>As the woman is about to knock on the door, it swings open, causing her fist to connect with thin air.

>Behind the door is an elegantly laid out entryway, with various collector’s pieces lined up in glass display cases, frames, or simply attached to the wall. Alongside this display is a maid, her dress making it so she fits in with the rest of the decor, who solemnly bows at the presence of the woman.

“Welcome, if you would like to wait here in the entrance hall, I will fetch the mistress - she is currently entertaining an old friend.”

“O-oh ok. . .”

>The woman steps inside and the maid nods again, closing the door and heading up a flight of stairs.

>Once again left to her thoughts, the woman sighs with exasperated look, taking in all of the displays. Scanning over the room, she stops as she notices a painting at the far end and squints at it. Not satisfied with her initial look, she walks closer to it, adjusting her glasses slightly as she takes in the details.

>The painting in question is done in baroque style, depicting a woman with raven-black hair, her left hand raised to the heavens as if requesting something from them, while her right hand contains an unusual dagger, its design making it look almost as if it was grown as a branch. Below the woman, eight hooded figures kneel in a position of worship.

>Leaning closer, the woman adjusts her glasses again, only to jolt backwards as a voice interrupts her.

“Quite beautiful, isn’t it?”

Revo 11/11/24 (Mon) 22:11:02 No.3846

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>>3845
“. . .she’s one of my favourites. ‘Ode to the Mother of the Night’, it’s called. A dead kinswoman of mine painted it in the 1700s, not an ancestor of mine, she never married.”

>The woman turns her attention from the painting to the owner of the voice, a dark-haired woman dressed in a tailored suit.

“It’s incredibly well put together, it’s almost mesmerising. Whoever the subject for this was, the painter clearly held her in great reverence.”

>The dark-haired woman smiles warmly.

“Thank you, I’m sure she would have loved to hear your commentary on it.”

>Still smiling, the dark-haired woman holds her hand out to shake.

“I suspect you already worked this out, but I’m Morfydd Carew.”

>The woman takes Morfydd’s hand to shake.

“Oh, yes, I’m Doctor-”

“Yvonne de Montauban, yes, I know, I invited you here, after all.”

“Oh yeah of course. ..”

“Your professors at Oxford speak very highly of you, they say you inherited your mother’s talent.”

>Yvonne seems somewhat surprised at the comment.

“You know of my mum?”

“I have a couple of her works in my collection. . . but enough chit chat, I prefer to discuss business in more comfortable environments, if you’d follow me.”

>Morfydd begins to walk out of the entrance hall, with Yvonne following her, swept up in her momentum.

“As you can likely tell, Ms de Montauban, I am a rather avid collector of various forms of art. . .”

>As Morfydd talks, the pair pass by a variety of displays, the collection taking up the hallways as well.

>Halfway down the halls, the pair walk past a woman dressed up in gothic style, who gives Yvonne a scowl before heading down the opposite direction, heading outside.

“Oh, don’t mind her, she’s just not particularly sociable.”

Revo 11/11/24 (Mon) 22:13:00 No.3847

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>>3846
>After a couple of minutes of walking, the pair arrive in a study which is darkened by the presence of heavy curtains half blocking a large window, their thick fabric dulling some of the sound of the rain outside.

>Walking up to a desk in the room, Morfydd takes out a matchbox, and strikes one of the matches, using it to light up a small lamp.

“Apologies for the analogue setup, but with a building this old you can’t always run electricity into every room.”

“O-oh, that’s no problem, it makes it feel cosy in here. . .”

“I’m glad to hear you like it. Now, if you would. . .”

>Morfydd Indicates to a couch opposite the desk, a signal for Yvonne to sit, which the red-haired woman follows.

“If I’m being honest, Ms Montauban. . . can I call you Yvonne? Ms Montauban sounds so formal.”

>Yvonne nods.

“Excellent. Now, as I was saying. If I’m being honest, Yvonne, this interview was more arranged as a formality. I’ve seen your portfolio, and your paper. People of your calibre are difficult to come across.”

“Oh, thank you. . .”

“No need to be so modest, you can have a bit more pride in yourself. You’re a perfect fit for what I need, and I would hope what I can offer suits you well.”

>Grabbing a piece of paper, Morfyddpicks up a quill from the desk and dips it in some ink, writing something down on the paper and then sliding it across to Yvonne.

“Now, that’s slightly below what would be standard for someone in this position, but I would also be willing to provide you with food and board here, free of charge.”

>Yvonne looks down at the paper and reads the offer put forward, thinking over it for a second.

“It almost seems too good to be true, I didn’t realise they thought so highly of me at Oxford.”

“But of course, Yvonne, you’re a master of your craft, those don’t appear every day.”

>Looking down at the offer, Yvonne looks over at Morfydd And smiles.

“I don’t see why I’d do anything except accept.”

>Morfydd Smiles.

“Excellent, just what I was hoping for, now, about-”

>Before she can elaborate anymore, the maid from the entrance opens the study door slightly, knocking on it politely as she enters.

“Apologies for interrupting, ma’am, but it appears that the access road has been blocked due to a tree falling over.”

Revo 11/11/24 (Mon) 22:14:27 No.3848

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>>3847
“That would be an issue, thank you for bringing it to my attention. Do you have any time frame on when it should be resolved.”

“Apologies ma’am, but it appears that all of the removal services are occupied until tomorrow.”

>Processing the sentence, Yvonne goes to stand up.

“Wait, then how am I meant to leave?”

“Apologies, Ms de Montauban, but it appears you will not be able to until tomorrow.”

“But-”

>Morfydd Raises her hand as if to silence the room.

“Don’t worry, Yvonne, I have plenty of spare rooms. And I can reimburse you for any missed hotel expenses.”

>Yvonne shrinks back.

“Ah. . . then. . . ok then. . .”

“Good good. . . if you could prepare a room for her?”

>The maid nods and leaves the room.

“Sorry if it feels like I’m imposing on you, but with how isolated we are out here, you won’t be able to get anywhere if the road really is blocked.”

“Oh. . . ok then. . . I understand. . .”

Revo 11/12/24 (Tue) 21:15:28 No.3849

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>>3848
>After some time, the maid takes Yvonne away to a bedroom that has been prepared for her. Relatively humble compared to some of the other rooms in the house, the only furniture in the room besides the bed is a simple table for holding a couple of items while the occupant sleeps.

>Holding the door open, the maid looks at Yvonne.

“Will this room be sufficient?”

“Oh. . . err. . . yeah. . . it’ll work, I don’t need much, just somewhere to rest my head and all that.”

“Will you be needing anything else, a drink, perhaps?”

“Just some water I guess.”

>The maid nods and leaves the room, leaving Yvonne to herself.

“Guess you were really looking out for me up there, dad, because I’ve lucked into a really good position here. . .”
—————————————————-
>Several hours later.

>Evening changes into night, but Yvonne still remains awake, albeit now awkwardly lying on top of her bed, a glass of water sitting on the side table, as she scrolls on her phone.

>Still scrolling, Yvonne stops for a second as she hears a creaking sound coming from outside, and looks over at the door.

>Thinking for a moment, she goes to call out to see if someone is there, but stops herself as an odd feeling of dread washes over her, with every nerve in her body seeming to tell her to hide, or to run.

>Like she’s possessed by some force, Yvonne lets her instincts take over her and quietly scrambles under the bed, taking as shallow breaths as she can to avoid making any more noise.

>After a few moments, the door is shredded open with an unearthly screech, and the creaking gets closer and closer to the bed, eventually stopping right over it before something stabs down through it, narrowly missing Yvonne, who has to put her hand over her mouth to avoid screaming out.

>A few more agonisingly slow moments pass for Yvonne, and then the creaking moves away from the bed, heading back out of the room again.

Revo 11/12/24 (Tue) 21:17:46 No.3850

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>>3849
>Once the creaking has travelled down the hallway for a few moments, Yvonne takes her hand off her mouth, breathing out in momentary relief, and then crawls out from under the pierced bed.

>Staring at the bed for a few moments, Yvonne then nods herself and decides to follow her other instinct, to run, and rushes towards the door, trying to be as quiet as she possibly can.

>Once at the door, she carefully pokes her head out, making sure the coast is at least visibly clear, and starts to stealthily make her way out of the room, heading in the direction of the main entrance as much as she can without heading directly in the direction of the creaking.

>With each step being agonisingly loud to Yvonne, she begins to make her way through the corridors of the building, the architecture seeming much more labyrinthine in the dark of the night.

>After what seems like a small eternity of sneaking around, Yvonne stops as she hears a creaking sound coming from around one of the corners, the cadence of it (and the rising dread in her) confirming to her that the source of it is whatever tried to kill her in her bed.

>Her heart rate increasing and breathing becoming erratic, Yvonne looks around the corridor for any potential hiding spots, and notices a door off to the side which she rushes to. Grabbing the handle, she twists it and pulls, only to find the door not budging.

>The creaking gets closer to the corner. . .

>Her breathing getting faster, Yvonne twists the handle again, finding a little more success but still not managing to open the door.

>The creaking gets closer to the corner. . .

>Her hands shaking now, Yvonne looks down at the handle, then over at the corner, and takes a deep breath, firmly grabbing the handle again and twisting it with as much force as she can before pulling against the door with all her might, finally managing to open it.

>Not looking inside whatever room she opened, Yvonne bolts inside, closing the door behind her.

>The inside of the room is bare, with even the carpet being ripped away, leaving only the wooden flooring from underneath.

>In the light of the moonlight from outside, a vague pattern of circles can be made out, all surrounding a lifesize doll of some kind that sits slumped over.

>Curiosity getting the better of her, Yvonne walks over to the doll and cautiously leans in, trying to get a better look, before carefully reaching out and lifting up the doll’s head to get a look at its face.

>Only to find the face of the maid looking right at her.

Revo 11/12/24 (Tue) 21:36:52 No.3851

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>Her instincts taking over again, Yvonne scrambles backwards from the doll, colliding right into the door, which loudly bursts open, the sudden lack of something supporting also causing her to fall backwards, hitting the ground with a thud.

>From down the corridor, the comforting sound of the creaking heading away stops.

>Realising the meaning of the sound stopping, Yvonne scrambles up and, dropping any pretence of stealth, starts sprinting down the corridor in the opposite direction without looking backwards.

>From behind Yvonne, the sound creaking starts again, only to be replaced by the sound of something heavy running towards her at high speed.

>Reaching the end of the corridor, Yvonne skids a little as she turns at the tight corner, and continues on down the next corridor, only stopping for a moment as the sound of whatever is chasing her reaches the corner, and seemingly miscalculates as the sound of shattering glass soon follows it, indicating it went through the window.

>Stopping for a moment, Yvonne breathes a sigh of relief and heads towards a window to get a look at whatever was chasing her.

>As she reaches the window, the faint light of the moon darkens as the silhouette of something blocks it, smashing through the window and slamming against Yvonne, knocking the wind out of her as she finds herself dragged across the hallway through its momentum.

>Trying to catch her breath back frantically, Yvonne looks up at what is now pinning her down, gagging slightly as a noxious smell fills her nose.

>The creature holding Yvonne down is squat, with a pale skin flecked with warts, its texture making it looks like it belongs to some kind of giant, albino toad. From its vantage point, the creature “looks” down at Yvonne, although the woman is unsure if it actually can, as nothing that could visibly be described as “eyes” to her exist on the creatures head, only a set of long, pink tentacles that hang down, narrowly missing touching Yvonne.

>Still trying to recover her breath fruitlessly, Yvonne closes her eyes as she notices the creature raising its spare paw and aiming it at her head. . .

Revo 11/12/24 (Tue) 21:38:10 No.3852

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>>3851
>After a few seconds, Yvonne’s breathing calms down as she notices that the strike hasn’t connected with her. Instead, the creature looms over her, completely frozen. A cursory glance over at the window shows the rain outside is frozen in place as well.

“Well well well, this is a terrible fate you’ve gotten yourself into. . .”

>A youthful looking white-haired man steps around the creature, measuring it up and down, and then leans down, offering a hand out for Yvonne to take.

“I’m afraid you’ve not got much time before you have to make a choice, so we’d like to take a chance to make it as educated as possible. . . as neither option is good for you.”

>Yvonne meekly takes the man’s hand, and he pulls her out from under the creature.

“W-What do you mean, we? And what choice?”

>To answer the first question, an eye “burns” itself into reality, its very construction making it look unreal as it glows with a white light that seems unlike any white found on Earth. With its gaze piercing through Yvonne, a distorted voice comes from the eye.

“A choice created by What Was, and will shape Which Is To Come. It has been Seen and so it will be So.”

“. . .what?”

>The white haired man smiles, his eyes betraying the experience of many years beyond what his body would suggest.

“The words can be cryptic, sometimes, it’s what happens when you go beyond the Silver Key.”

“The what?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“That just makes-”

“Yes yes, but you’ve got more important things to think about right now, like this.”

>The man does flourish, drawing Yvonne’s attention to an ethereal sword placed in a pedestal.

Revo 11/12/24 (Tue) 21:39:55 No.3853

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>>3852
“A sword?”

>The eye “burns” itself into a new position.

“The Sword, the fall of knights, Madness to fight Madness, Darkness to end Darkness.”

“. . .and you want me to take it? Why can’t you?”

“It’s bound to your bloodline, possessing the sword and using it to fight Those Who Serve the Dark Tapestry is your ancient duty. As it was in my day, and as it was in your father’s day.”

“Valiant, he was, the great Dane, but he too fell, as all knights do, Madness gives what it takes.”

>Yvonne takes a moment to think through what was said, then turns to the eye.

“You’re saying my dad was. . . secretly some kind of knight? And the reason why he disappeared and died was. . . some weird madness from taking this sword? Look, he may have been a nut for chivalry, but I’m pretty sure the Queen picks knights, not some ancient sword.”

“The Monarch picks knights, and in this case, your bloodline was chosen.”

“Ok. Fine, suppose I choose to believe all this, why should I pick taking up the weird madness sword? It’s not like there’s anything in it for me.”

>The white haired man looks concerned for a second, then sighs.

“You either take the sword, or that Moon-beast slaughters you where you stand - or cower, technically.”

>Yvonne grits her teeth, anger rising, but manages to calm herself down somewhat.

“That’s not a choice though, you’re forcing me into picking the option you want.”

“I’m merely a messenger, Fate can be a cruel mistress sometimes, but you are needed. . .”

>The intensity of The Eye increases.

“The Sorcerers will be blind to the actions of the Eight. Seven will form a Star, and the Eighth will see the Gate. The Sorcerers will be unable to stop it, and then it will be too late. This I have Seen, and so it will be So. The Peacock King will open the Way for Harbinger, and madness will descend on the City of Sanctuary, and so they will burn, and THEY will reward the Eight. This I have Seen, and so it will be So, unless the mantle is taken again.”

>Something seems to snap in Yvonne, and she bats at The Eye, hitting nothing.

“YOU’RE NOT MAKING ANY SENSE! TALK NORMAL! OR. . . OR JUST!”

>Yvonne looks over at the white-haired man, anger in her eyes.

“JUST. . . just. . . just tell me why it’s me. . .life was just. . . looking good for me. . .”

>The man gives Yvonne a look, one of sadness and experience.

“Fate rarely ever calls upon us at a moment of our choosing. But I can say this. . .”

>The man steps closer to Yvonne, carefully placing a hand upon her shoulder.

“. . .your benefactor always intended for you to die on this night.”

Revo 11/12/24 (Tue) 21:43:20 No.3854

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>>3853
“. . .what?”

>The man pulls away slightly from Yvonne, giving her space to move.

“Should you realise your duty, you represent a great threat to her, and. . .”

>Ignoring the man, Yvonne moves beyond him, stopping just in front of the sword, and reaches out towards it, stopping just before grabbing it.

“Death, or duty, that’s the only choice placed before you, and I’m sorry for that, really.”

“If I take it, I can get my revenge on her?”

>The white-haired man seems startled at the question. Then nods.

“Then what choice do I have?”

>Yvonne grabs onto the sword, and energy surges out from it, wrapping around her in the form of several tendrils, burrowing their way underneath her skin. As it gets further and further into her body, the intensity increases, blotting out all other light.

>As the process continues, the white-haired man sighs, and starts to walk away, fading away as he does.

“Then, fight for us, our lethal protector. . .arise as our. . .”

>The man fades away, leaving only the faint sound of his voice on the wind.

“Blood Knight.”

>The light reaches its crescendo, and fades away, reality having started moving again as Yvonne finds herself standing in the halfway, breathing heavily as she holds a sword in her hands, the tip having solidly pierced the moon-beast that was poised to kill her before time had stopped.

>With a snarl, Yvonne thrusts the sword further into the creature, and pulls it out violently, causing it to burst into a cloud of darkness and dust and fade away.

>Without another word, Yvonne turns around, and starts heading down the halfway, sword in her hands.

Revo 11/12/24 (Tue) 21:44:55 No.3855

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>>3854
>Yvonne reaches the end of the hall, stopping in front of a door. Still seething, she looks down at the handle for a moment, then she lifts her sword up and slashes it across the door, leaving a crimson scar along the wood.

>The scar pulses for a few moments, and then the door shatters into a rain of splinters, granting Yvonne a cover as she bursts into the room, bee-lining straight for the centre of it where Morfyddstands calmly.

>Before Yvonne’s sword can reach the woman, she finds her path interrupted by the maid doll, with a dull thunk of metal hitting wood echoing through the wall as it puts a hand in the way of the sword, blocking it with enough strength to cause Yvonne to struggle against it.

>Still calm, Morfydd straightens out her clothes, turning as a flash of lightning lights up the room from outside, the light causing her to be briefly silhouetted - albeit with a pair of horns on the top of her head. Once the light dies down, Morfydd turns to speak to Yvonne, who still struggles against the maid.

“Oh, Yvonne. . . it looks like I should vet who I hire more, I can’t have someone with anger issues like this managing my collection. . .”

“Well I don’t work for people who try to kill me!”

>Yvonne manages to cut through the maid’s arm, and then kicks it away as she steps forward, causing it to fly out of the building.

>With the obstacle out of the way, Yvonne charges forward, slashing right at Morfydd, only to find her sword and legs bound by a set of black tentacles, their texture constantly shifting and squirming as they ooze a miasma.

“Not today, my little knight, as much as I’ve missed this little game of cat and mouse, I have much more important business to get to. . .”

>Morfydd spins her hand around, causing the tentacles to start winding up to throw Yvonne.

“. . .soon my coven will be complete once more, and this time, that stupid crystal won’t be able to stop me.”

>With a casual flick of the wrist, Morfydd sends Yvonne flying.

Revo 11/12/24 (Tue) 21:46:53 No.3856

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>>3855
>November 1st, 2017

>Several hours later, Yvonne groans as she wakes up in an impact crater created by her landing on a hill overlooking the manor.

>Standing up in her now un-transformed form, she looks over at her sword and stares at it for a few moments, then picks it up once again, checking the weight of it.

>Pointing it at the manor, she stays in place with it for a few moments, then sighs, bringing it down.

“Next time, in Sanctuary. . .”

—————————————————-
>???

>Morfydd walks into a darkened room, stretching out her arms and letting out a sigh of relief as a dark shadow washes over her, changing her form to another with a set of horns on her head.

>Once the transformation is complete, she steps forward again, stopping as she reaches the edge of a seven-pointed star.

“Sisters, rejoice, the ritual is almost complete, and with it, we will gain the power to drown the Crystal in shadow and flame. . .”

>A voice calls out from the shadows.

“And then?”

“Then, sister, we rescue the Mother of the Night from her prison.”

>Across the room, a flame flares up, and the other woman from the mansion steps forward.

“Except, Thiton, your silly games have brought our enemy back.”

>Morfydd smiles.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, sister, I have just the thing for her. . .”

[To be continued]