CHAPTER 125: ECHOES OF TORMENT

Leva dived into the gigantic, churning sphere of miasma, and Eirin held her breath, her eyes squinted against the suffocating, inky darkness. The air, which had been so crisp and clean just moments before, became thick and heavy, an obvious, suffocating weight that pressed in on her from all sides. A creeping, crawling sensation, like a thousand phantom spiders, spread across her arms and face, an unnatural cold that seeped deep into her skin.

The sensation was unsettling, a physical manifestation of corruption trying to latch onto her. The darkness itself was not a simple absence of light; it was a living, swirling entity, a vortex of shadow and despair. Sounds, too, began to fill the air, not physical sounds, but whispers, a roar of agonizing secrets and forgotten pain, as they kept getting deeper into the sphere’s cold, corrupting heart.

Eirin held onto Leva’s feather, her knuckles white with strain, her body a rigid line of tension. With a conscious effort, she breathed in, trying to focus on the cleansing power she might possess. She focused on sucking whatever was trying to latch itself onto the majestic bird, on pulling the corruption away from Leva’s pure being and into her own.

Eirin wasn’t entirely clueless about this. A distant, half-forgotten memory of words from Scarlett Jenkins echoed in her mind, words about the true nature of herself.

’Just keep breathing.’

Eirin now understood the chilling implication. Scarlett had known. She had known that Eirin possessed this unique terrifying ability to act as a sponge, to absorb and contain the miasma.

’But how? How did she know? Even I didn’t know,’ the teenage girl thought. ’Doesn’t that make me sound like a monster? A living vessel for corruption?’ The thought, cold and insidious, snaked into Eirin’s mind, a whispered doubt from the miasma itself.

Eirin’s eyes were still clouded with the swirling, oppressive darkness, but she held on, clinging to the hope that her purpose was not to contain evil, but to be a bastion against it.

"I can sense them, child,"

Leva’s voice, a strained, telepathic whisper, cut through the noise in Eirin’s mind. "My kin. They are suffering. The miasma has them in its suffocating grasp. I can hear their screams, their pleas for release."

Just then, a collective, heart-wrenching screech tore through the air, an ear-splitting wail of agony and fury that was both physical and psychic. It filled their ears, a sound that seemed to shatter Eirin’s very soul. She instinctively covered her ears with both hands, her grip on Leva’s feathers lost in the sudden, agonizing pain.

Eirin couldn’t keep her eyes open, not because of the darkness, but because of the sheer, soul-shattering force of the sound. It was as if something, a singular, malevolent will, was trying to kick her out of this place, to force her to abandon her purpose, to give up the fight.

"Child, do not let me go! You must not lose your will!"

Eirin could hear Leva’s voice inside her head, but it was a faint, struggling plea, a candle in a hurricane. She couldn’t control her body. The miasma took advantage of their separation, as if controlled by someone else. It swirled around them, an inky, black serpent of corruption, enveloping the two of them, separating them from each other with a brutal, disorienting shove.

The moment Eirin was no longer by Leva’s side, no longer acting as anchor against the darkness, the majestic bird’s appearance began to change, the miasma reclaiming its territory with brutal efficiency.

Leva’s magnificent lavender feathers, once shimmering with an ethereal light, turned a solemn, dead black, the color of a starless void. The elegant, curved horn on her head, a symbol of her nobility, twisted and warped, forming into a grotesque, bone-white spikes. Her once ocean-deep blue eyes, the color of intelligence and kindness, slowly, agonizingly, turned a searing, malevolent red, glowing with a baleful inner fire.

Leva let out a terrifying screech, adding to the deadly roars that filled the space, no longer a beacon of hope, but another victim of the miasma’s eternal nightmare. Eirin felt a stab of guilt, a cold knife in her heart. She had failed. She had let go.

Eirin, now alone, kept both hands covering her ears, the terrible, screeching sounds still filling her mind, but she could now feel herself floating in the air, the miasma lifting her, a cold, uncaring hand beneath her feet. It was trying to fill her in, to consume her, to turn her into one of the mindless, screaming beasts.

But no matter how much it tried, no matter how hard it pushed, it couldn’t consume her. Her mana, her true essence, was a barrier, a wall of pure, uncorruptable light against the pervasive darkness. Eirin started to panic, primal fear gripping her. The deadly sounds wouldn’t leave her head, and the miasma wouldn’t leave her body. She was trapped, a powerless prisoner in a realm of pure despair.

"Why have you come, demon child." A voice, a cold, crystalline accusation, cut through the incessant screeching.

Eirin’s eyes went wide in shock, a gasp escaping her lips. The voice was not a whisper. It was a clear, concise thought, a mental projection. It wasn’t just one, it was too many. Too many voices, all speaking at the same time, a chorus of angry, tormented souls, all saying the same exact words, echoing with a bitter hatred.

"Be gone, demon!"

The voices kept repeating, a relentless assault on her mind. The mental pressure was immense, a physical weight that pressed down on her, causing her to fall to the ground. Her knees scraped against the hard, unyielding surface of the mountain peak, a jarring pain that was real and undeniable. She groaned, a sharp cry of pain as she landed.

The screeching and the voices intensified, a deafening roar of pure agony and rage. Eirin screamed, a terrified, thoughtless sound, as tears rushed down her eyes, hot tracks through the miasma-dust on her face. Blood started coming out of her ears, a thin, warm trickle against her skin, the physical manifestation of the immense mental and aural pressure she was under.

Eirin’s breathing grew heavier, more frantic, her body convulsing with the overwhelming sensory overload. She was losing her mind. She was losing herself to the miasma’s cruel torments.

When Eirin tried to open her eyes, to make sense of the place, all she could see was darkness, absolute darkness that consumed her vision. The world had gone black. "Leva!" She called her companion’s name, but all she could hear in response were screeches, the echoing screams of the corrupted Iphans.

"N-No..." Eirin immediately removed her hands from her ears, no longer caring about the noise. She needed to feel something, to hold onto something real. She searched for something to hold onto, for any anchor, any sign of the world she knew.

Eirin breathed in, deep and deliberate, forcing her body to calm itself, to find the quiet space within the chaos. The noises, though still there, subsided slightly, becoming a dull roar rather than a physical assault.

"Calm down, Eirin. You’re not losing yourself. This is a trick," she told herself, her voice a small, internal whisper of defiance.

Eirin continued inhaling and exhaling air, her focus a singular, powerful act of will. The moment she did, her amber eyes glowed, a faint ethereal golden light that seemed to emanate from deep within her very being.

Suddenly, she could see everything clearer. The darkness was not real. It was a veil, an illusion created by the corrupted Iphans.

The miasma was swirling all over the nest, a thick, coiling mist of black vapor. And amidst the mist, she could see them now. The Iphans. Hundreds of them, all in different stages of corruption, all with glowing red eyes, all crying out in silent, internal agony, acting wild and aggressive all over the place.

They were not evil. They were tormented. They were trapped in an eternal nightmare, just as Leva had said. "Leva!" Eirin continued calling her companion’s name, her voice now a strong, confident shout. "Leva! Please respond! I know you’re in there!"

Despite the terrifying idea of Leva being consumed by the miasma, Eirin continued trying to reach out to her, to connect with the pure being she had met, to pull her back from the brink of corruption.

Eirin rubbed off the dust from her pants as she stood up, her body still aching from the fall, but her mind now a fortress of determination. She extended her hand, her palm opens to the churning darkness, and with a conscious act of will, she began to control the wind where the miasma flows.

A swirling vortex of pure, untainted wind, the color of the sky, formed in the middle of the oppressive darkness, a beacon of light above Eirin’s palm. It was her mana, her wind, but it was different now. It was purer, more potent, unburdened by the usual constraints.

Eirin’s eyes wandered around, taking in the full scope of the tragedy, the sheer scale of the miasma’s work and thousands of thoughts filled her head. She needed help. She needed a friend.

"Feya!" Eirin called her pixie’s name again, her voice filled with a desperate longing. But there was still no response, no shimmer of light, no mischievous giggle, no familiar presence. "I don’t know what to do," she said, tears welling in her eyes again, not of fear, but of desperate, unfulfilled need for companionship in the face of such a terrifying situation.