Evelyn
With the swipe of his staff, the vines and leaves of The Collector’s fake forest fell to the ground, hitting the soil that made the landscape with a plastic clutter. He was on a bit of a side quest presently, an urn containing the collected ashes of a recently deceased feral Grimwalker attached to his hip.
Now, he was fairly certain he was headed in the right direction. Philip had always been well acquainted with directions, a natural inclination that had proved itself very useful over the years.
He thought back to the hundreds of times he’d walked this very path over the last centuries. It was easy to become acquainted with it, the specific crunches of the dirt below his feet, the smell of the air as it wafted through the unique plants.
However, in the modern day it was all different. Apparently The Collector had no respect for the sanctity of established tradition as the path was now completely covered in his dense false landscape. Philip grunted as he hacked down more plastic leaves, the child’s infernal antics weren’t going to keep him from doing this.
Finally he reached the clearing that overlooked much of the Boiling Isles, a cliff that he never really cared to get the name of. The only thing that mattered to him here was one of the two pieces of stone.
Philip reverently walked forward, as if presenting himself to some higher entity. Then again, he mused that with his luck recently he might as well be doing just that.
He approached the stones, scoffing at the disrepair. On the one to his right, the name Evelyn stood boldly as day, with the last name being covered by vines. The one to the left read with the name Caleb Wittebane alongside the tag “Brother, Husband, Father, Taken too soon.”
“Hello Caleb,” his voice was low, barely more than a whisper. “I saw you again today.”
There was a moment where Philip paused, waiting with baited breath, almost hoping his mind would play tricks on him again.
But nothing happened.
Releasing his breath, Philip decided to continue. “It was another Feral Grimwalker, woke up after a long time of resting.”
And nothing changed.
Philip stroked his beard, not exactly knowing if he had the willpower to continue. Honestly, he didn’t know why he was even there to begin with. There was nothing he could get out of this, no closure to be gotten from talking to a headstone. “I don’t even know why I’m here.”
“I think you know exactly why you’re here.” A chummy voice came from beside him. However, Philip knew better the second he heard it. That palsy-walsy tone of speaking had an edge to it, one that contained the source of all the trouble he’d been through, all the pain he’d experienced.
“Of all the vengeful specters for my mind to conjure.” He growled the spike of pain sending him into a rage. “Why did it have to be you? Evelyn.”
“Woah, is that any way to talk to your sister in law?” Evelyn asked in jest, glaring daggers back into Philip.
“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.” He bit back, the pull to follow his every instinct and turn around nagging his every thought. His internal thoughts screamed for him to leave, ignore Evelyn and move on. He had a mission to accomplish, if only he could let the past go.
Unfortunately that was never his strong suit. Philip couldn’t resist the urge to whirl around and face the temptress. “One more thing.”
“This should be good.” Evelyn snorted.
“Stop that!” He snapped, enraged. “I came here to see my brother, is that too much to ask?”
The apparition was left silent, either stunned or broken. So Philip continued. “This whole bloody thing was for him. Entire crusade waged for a man who isn’t even here!” A scream ripped from Philip as he fell to his knees before the gravestone. “You were all I had after Mother and Father died, the only one to lift and guide me! And then you abandoned me!”
Tears burned their way across Philip’s face. “All I ever wanted was for us to be a family again.” He wiped the snot from his face as he sniffled. “A family in a world free of those who stole you, so that they would never take you away from me again.” He clenched a fist, not noticing the red glow of artificial magic slowly generating in his hand. “The least you could do is be here!”
All at once, Philip’s anger exploded again. A blast of red energy exited him, traveling from his hand into the headstone of Caleb Wittebane.
Another scream ripped loose, one cut off by devilous laughter.
Turning to face the source, Philip wanted to commit a murder when he saw the animation return to the apparition of Evelyn.
“What a fat load that did for you.” She snarled sardonically “Do you want the truth Philip?”
The apparition knelt down next to him. “You’re just a dime-store poet, a cheap load of nothing. Caleb left you because he saw the kind of person you really were. That is why he won’t see you, because you’re nothing.”
The earth trembled beneath his feet as he sprinted away. When had he gotten up? When did he start to run? Philip didn’t know. All he knew was that he had a plan in need of execution and better places to be than here.
“He’ll never forgive you.” Evelyn called as he stomped away. “You’re never getting your absolution!”
With a growl, Philip broke into a full sprint, glaring at the head of the Titan and the Archive House that floated above it. With a click of the staff and a woosh of red artificial magic, Philip teleported himself into the air. He felt his body reorient and adjust, swiftly clicking the staff again and teleporting onto the horn of the skull. Firmly holding onto a fractured part of the bones, he used the staff one last time, teleporting straight up towards the Archive House.
The teleport finished and Philip found himself deposited on one of the exterior walls overlooking the interiors courtyard of the Archive.
Below, two figures stood. One was picking up what appeared to be humanoid statues while the other was directing the first.
“Put that one over there,” he heard a very familiar and extremely grating voice commanding the mover. Philip snickered, of course Odalia Blight would survive and end up gloming into whomever filled the power vacuum he left. She wasn’t even doing a good job at directing, Odalia didn’t point out where the statue should actually be put. “No, no, no. Over there!” She snapped as the mover went in the wrong direction.
“Making a deal with that child was a waste of time.” Odalia sighed “I wish someone would see my potential.”
With a smirk, he hopped down and landed just behind the mint haired woman. “Oh yes, I think you’ll prove to be quite useful.”
Odalia turned around, so desperate for any shred of approval. “Me?” She asked, even pointing herself out.
“No,” Philip corrected, raising his staff. With a sickening crack as metal hit skull, Odalia Blight fell to the ground. Was she dead? Was she unconscious? Honestly he didn’t care, she was too enterprising to be a useful puppet and too dull witted to be a competent ally, in his book she was a waste for breathing his air. With the woman out of the picture Philip moved to intercede his real prize, the puppet that looked startlingly like Raine Whispers. “Oh Whispers, you played the strings. Yet, as it always was, I pull your strings.”