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Chapter 29 - Zoltran Marionasse
🕑 Added 2025-12-21 21:48:59 +0000 UTCQuill took a deep breath before knocking on the door. Three knocks, sharp against the old wood. The sound echoed in the narrow passage, seeming to carry far more weight than simple knuckles on wood should.
This is it.
Daniel’s heart hammered against his ribs. The possibility of seeing someone who actually knew him. Knew Artorias, at least, which was becoming harder and harder to separate from himself.
For a moment, there was silence. Then an aged voice rang out, echoing all around them in a way that suggested the speaker wasn't physically present.
“Why are you here, Quill?”
Daniel felt something in his chest tighten at the familiar voice, even if the tone was more weathered than he remembered.
"...I believe I have something beyond extraordinary for you, Headmaster." Quill's voice was steady despite the sweat Daniel could see beading on his forehead. "The visitor formation glowed golden, and it might not be broken."
“Golden?”
A moment passed, heavy and taut like a bowstring drawn back. Then the door opened.
The office that was revealed beyond was far more magnificent than could be expected from the unassuming entrance.
Books lined every wall from floor to ceiling, bearing titles in languages living and dead. Floating orbs of soft light drifted through the air like lazy fireflies, casting everything in a warm golden glow. The ceiling arched high above them, painted with constellations that actually moved, with stars tracing their courses across an artificial sky.
Quill stood to the side and gestured for Daniel to enter, correctly assuming this meeting wasn't for him. His hand trembled slightly, and Daniel could see the relief in his eyes—relief at passing this impossible problem to someone else.
Daniel stepped forward, feeling his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He barely had time to enter fully before the door slammed shut behind him.
But the office seemed empty, save for a few ghostly birds standing on an artificial branch by an open window. Messenger birds, by the looks of it, created through an unfamiliar branch of Sarun magic.
"So," the disembodied voice continued, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. "For Quill to say you're beyond extraordinary, you're either a skilled manipulator or the real deal."
Daniel's hands clenched at his sides. The voice was doing something to him—stirring memories that weren't quite his own, emotions that felt borrowed but no less real for it.
"But I know for a fact that none of the people who deserve a golden color are alive." The voice hardened, taking on an edge that suggested considerable power held barely in check. "Who are you?"
Here goes nothing.
"You won't even show your face to an old friend?"
The words came out steadier than Daniel expected. He was gambling everything on this moment—on the hope that Zoltran was still the same person Artorias had known.
“Old friend?" The voice carried something sharp now, dangerous. "I think I would recognize all of my old friends. And you sound nothing like them.”
"I can feel your mana in the room." Daniel kept his voice casual, though his fists were clenched tight. "Use your magic sight already."
The mana in the room swirled, responding to an invisible command. It concentrated, forming into motes of gaseous mana that drifted toward Daniel like curious ghosts. They clashed against his face, hopefully giving a clear image of who he was.
“Ah!”
The sound of movement suddenly rattled from the side of the room, quick and unsteady. A boy of perhaps ten stepped from the shadows.
What?
The boy was small, with the slight build of youth and skin that still held the softness of childhood. Rounded ears marked him as human, and his features were delicate, almost ethereal. But his eyes—his eyes were ancient, holding centuries of wisdom that no child should possess.
"Artorias?"
The voice was layered—that was the only way Daniel could describe it. The child's voice speaking in perfect synchronization with the ancient voice they'd heard earlier, creating a duet between young and old.
The child walked forward with calm movements, stopping just before Daniel. One small hand reached up, and Daniel found himself bending down instinctively.
Tiny fingers traced his features—forehead, eyebrows, the bridge of his nose. The touch was gentle, as if afraid he might vanish at any moment.
"It really is you." The layered voices cracked with emotion. "After all this time... it really is you."
“...Headmaster?”
The boy's—Zoltran's—hand dropped from Daniel's face. His ancient eyes studied Daniel with an intensity that made him feel transparent, like every secret and lie was laid bare.
"Tell me," Zoltran said, narrowing his eyes, "how would you structure a formation to create a powerful beam of light?"
Ah, a test?
Of course it was a test. If this really was the headmaster, it made sense for him to want to confirm Artorias truly had risen from the dead. That this wasn't some elaborate trick or imposter wearing a stolen face.
But Daniel felt himself lagging behind a bit, still processing the impossibility of the child-ancient standing before him. Why does he look so young? And human?
Still, the easiest way to get an explanation seemed to be doing as he asked. So he considered the question seriously.
Light runes, reflection runes, enhancement formations, layered input runes, but making them all face the same direction… I could use a reflective parabola and a magical lens, absorbing all the light and focusing it on one spot before redirecting it forward.
Daniel created the design in his mind, then projected it into the space above them using Gold Light magic. The formation bloomed in the air between them, glowing runes and intricate geometric patterns rotating slowly to display every angle and connection.
It was beautiful, in the way that purely functional things sometimes were.
The young child stared at it, with his eyes flickering between different parts in rapid succession. Daniel could see him analyzing it, testing every connection mentally, searching for flaws or inefficiencies.
“Three seconds… It took you three seconds to make a better design than mine.”
Daniel felt heat rise in his cheeks. He hadn't been trying to show off.
But then laughter broke through his thoughts. Both young and old at once somehow, the laughter rang through the office.
"I never thought I'd see the day. I never thought…" The layered voice cracked, breaking on the words. "A thousand years, Artorias. A long time, even for me. I had lost hope."
Daniel saw tears forming in those deep eyes.
"I'm sorry it took so long." Daniel's own voice came out rough, thick with emotions he couldn't quite separate—Artorias's guilt and his own, all mixed together. "I feared there would be no one left. That I'd be alone in a world that had forgotten us all."
"Never."
The word was fierce.
"You’ve surely learned by now, but you are far from forgotten. Millions of people sing your praises every day. They don’t truly remember you, of course, but some of us do."
Some of us.
"...Elania?"
The name came out rougher than he intended. He had to ask. Even though Zoltran had already hinted at it, Daniel needed to hear it said explicitly. Needed the confirmation that she hadn't—that a thousand years hadn't—
"Precisely. She has been waiting for a thousand years."
Daniel's hand found the edge of Zoltran's desk. The wood was solid under his palm, grounding him as the office seemed to tilt. "She's alive."
"Of course she is." There was something almost amused in Zoltran's tone now, as if the idea of Elania dying was absurd.
"Is she..." He didn't know how to finish the question. Happy? Angry? Still the same person he remembered, or had a millennium changed her into someone unrecognizable?
"Stronger than ever," Zoltran said softly, reading something in his expression. "And yes, she will want to see you. Though I should warn you—she's going to kill you first. Then probably cry. The order might vary."
Despite everything, Daniel felt a laugh escape. It sounded slightly unhinged even to his own ears. "That's... good. That's good."
Exactly how I would expect her to react.
"When did you awaken?"
Zoltran had moved closer without him noticing, studying him with an intensity that made Daniel feel like a specimen under glass.
“It’s been nearly a week now. I would have come sooner, but I had some business in the north that I had to attend to.”
Zoltran's layered voice let out a thoughtful hum. "Do you have any idea what caused the seal to break?"
"I'm not sure, but I believe it had to do with blood. Specifically, blood of the Grifantes line.”
"Your sister's descendants." Zoltran's expression shifted slightly. "So it was only a matter of time. Someone with her blood would eventually find their way to you."
"Perhaps. But the timing..." Daniel hesitated, feeling the edges of a truth he wasn't sure he wanted to acknowledge. "I think I was meant to wake now. For a specific reason."
"Fate?"
There was skepticism in his layered voice—the kind of skepticism that came from living long enough to see chance mistaken for destiny a thousand times over.
"Fate is easy to blame when there are things we cannot understand. I don't have much faith in it."
"Neither did I. But Valkor's prophecy—'he will return when the world needs him most'—it's starting to feel less like religious nonsense and more like... a warning."
“How so?”
Daniel had considered this question for a long time before coming here. Exactly how much he should reveal of the truth. How much he had to lie about the origins of this world, about his impossible knowledge, about what he was.
Keeping it vague would be for the best. At least until he understood what the stakes actually were.
"When I was sealed, something changed. I now possess knowledge that I didn't have before."
"What sort of knowledge?"
The kind that comes from being the author of your reality.
"I know things I shouldn't know. Things I never learned, never discovered through study." Daniel held his gaze. "Like the fact that your level is slightly above three thousand. Far greater than you ever told us."
Zoltran’s ancient eyes revealed nothing, but they remained fixed on Daniel for several seconds.
"I see." A long pause. "And does this knowledge tell you why I've remained here, tethered to this place, while the world changed around me?"
There was something raw in that question. Pain, carefully controlled but present nonetheless.
“Someone had to watch the seal,” Daniel replied carefully. “Someone always has to."
"Always."
The weight in that single word was crushing. Zoltran's young face twisted with an emotion Daniel couldn't quite name—grief mixed with duty mixed with something that might have been relief at finally being understood.
"Even when my own people called me a coward for hiding here. Even when students I trained and loved went to war and died. Someone. Must. Watch."
Zoltran's young face showed nothing, but his hands had clenched into small fists.
“That should be enough for you to believe me, right?”
"Yes." Zoltran studied him intently. "These memories you have—do you understand their source?"
Yes, because I'm not who you think I am.
"I have theories, but nothing that makes more sense than anything else.” Daniel met his gaze. "Does the source matter if the knowledge is real?"
“Partial knowledge is always a danger, Artorias. If you knew only that I had chosen to remain passive while the continent burned, and nothing of why, what would you have done?”
“...I would have asked, I hope. But point taken.”
A slight smile touched Zoltran's lips. “What other threats did you learn of?”
