The Novel's Sidekick



Chapter One: Forgive me, Mother

Q: What is the Night of Brilliance?

A: The night when all the five moons share the same sky.

- - -

Am I dying? Again?

I stopped the urge to vomit and gulped down whatever was trying to find its way through my throat. I thought I succeeded, but the dizziness in my head overwhelmed me as I puked. Something’s not right.

I had no idea how much time passed. Where were we before this? An impaling pain hit me as I tried to remember . . . Something’s wrong. Focus! Focus! This never happens to me. I never have a problem remembering stuff. It's almost a miracle for me to forget anything, but . . .

Several seconds passed, and I finally mustered the minimal mental capacity to carry out the thought process rather than the mindless rambling. It was still nighttime, and I wasn’t alone. My senses came back, at least some of them, and the pain assaulted my nerves exponentially.

My feet shuffled across the earth as I felt a force shouldering me, dragging me somewhere. Someone was dragging me on the shoulder.

"Pull yourself together, Scar," croaked a voice, probably having trouble dragging us.

I tried to mutter something, but ended up groaning. I tried harder, but failed. In the end, the dizziness in my head claimed it, and I lost consciousness.

I did not know how much time it took for me to wake up, but by the time I woke up, my head was still dizzy, though far better than before. The smell of alcohol was oozing out of me, and I found myself lying in a warm bed. Weird, I thought. I remember the fight and then . . .

Then my eyes widened. I looked at my palms, clasped them together and went as far as pinching my cheek. This wasn’t a dream, was it?

This is me! The headache was too excruciating for me to conclude anything. I felt sore in my throat. Water, I need water.

With that thought, I rose, though I had to lean against the wall immediately to keep on standing. All my bones and muscles felt sore. I leaned against the wall to calm my nerves first.

I looked around the small room to search for a general direction. I needed water. There was no water on the side table near the bed. The room appeared foreign to me, and so did all the things. It was a small room with a bed, though the way it was held did not appear to be a home where people stayed every day.

Dry wood burned soothingly in the fireplace, warming the dim room a little. Even though everything was well-placed where it should have been, I felt discomfort looking at it. The chilly atmosphere, coupled with the foreign room, weren’t the only reason for my discomfort. Breathing heavily, a couple of times, I walked in search of water.

Creeping against the wall, I managed to find the washroom. As soon as I stepped inside, I drew my head to the sink and let the cold water run through my hair. The cold water gave me a surreal peace of mind, and I drank the water to satisfy my sore throat. The water tasted a little sweet and satisfying.

The dizziness soothed too as I slowly drew my face towards a mirror. The face that showed up in the mirror was a youth towering over two metres height, lanky and pale-faced. An angular, handsome face with flamboyant red hair—they were all familiar to me. Even the distant eyes with a little tint of redness—which in a way proves magic is real—weren’t alien to me, nor was the mark on the right eyebrow all the way to the end of the forehead.

Scar? I called in my head. Hey, buddy, are you there? Come on, mate. Aren’t you going to take control?

No reply. That worried me for an instance, but I felt relief finding no voices in my head.

I stayed looking in the mirror for some time, as my senses cleared up. Memories readjusted, and so did my sanity. I waited until I was certain there was no one else in my head. I was as certain as I could be that Scar wasn’t there. It was both painful and liberating.

It had been over eighteen years. Eighteen years since I was transmigrated into this world. For eighteen years, I was trapped inside this body. Eighteen years of powerlessness to do anything against all the wrong decisions Scar made. Eighteen years with all the pain and . . . No, the pain wasn’t there for all the time.

That was why it was painful and liberating. Liberating because it seemed I was finally out of my imprisonment, and painful . . . because of Scar. for the last eighteen years, I was like an echo in his body. I lived through everything he had lived through. I felt everything he felt; all the pain, anger, hatred, sorrow, joy, and helplessness.

[Synchronisation ended.] A transparent text appeared before my eyes, and my facial expression changed.

[Preparing the Status window.]

Then a larger transparent window appeared on my retina, reminding me of the source of all this.

_____________

Name: Arskar Emberborn

Title: Knight Squire. He Who Touched Death. The Chosen One.

Skills and Attributes:

[Purgatory (Unawakened)] [Spirit Body: F] [Spirit Power: C] [Fire Elemental Force: D+] [Charisma: D] [Cognition: C] [Eidetic Imagery: ?]

[Swordsmanship: ?] [Close Quarter Combat: ?] [Spiritual Manipulation: ?] [Spirit Armament: ?]

Dominions: None.

______________

"Does that mean," I muttered, “I would control the body for now?”

There was no confirmation, but then again, what’s the point of all this if I was just a helpless spectator incapable of doing anything?

It had been eighteen years since I was transmigrated into this world, Shrankor. I had no recollection of dying. Then again, death can be silent.

Forbidden Realms, a tabletop RPG that I grew up playing with my mom, while she was busy dying. I remember, I used to love this game as much as I loved my mum, however, I know it was all because of the time I shared with my mum playing this game in her dying years. That was almost three decades ago. n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

This world was almost exactly that with all the lore and history, story and characters, monsters and myths. At first, when I found out all that, I was lost for some time, and then I thought I deserved all the familial love my new mum, dad, and siblings were giving me, ignorant to the fact that I was but a parasite living in another's body.