Dorian's eyes stay glued on the mob, on his parents' image, which appeared in front of him. Nothing happens, no sound is heard for the full minute where he looks at them, tears rolling on his cheeks, before he takes a deep breath.
— It… It's your doing ?
— Yes.
— Why ?
The Stalker's voice cracks as this simple, single word breaches his lips. Seconds, which seems to be years for him, pass before he finally hears the witch once again.
— It's one of your regrets. 'Never witnessing their death.' So I will simply answer it and show you. What a good man I am…
As the voice fades, the mob begins to move, each person in it makes walking movements even if the group stays in place. Dorian then sees another thing appear, two things, a woman and a monster looking like a lion. They approach the mob without moving, letting him understand that it's the villagers who approach instead.
— Belle…
An icy venom could nearly drip from his tone alone. He draws his sword on the spot and readies himself. He knows that it's nothing more than an illusion, but seeing her calm like this, smiling coldly at the mob, at his parents, sends him past all thinking. As her image lifts an arm, he slashes said arm in vain. His sword passes through the illusion, as the beast jumps on the villagers and begins its gruesome work.
— No ! No, no no no ! Please no ! Don't kill them ! They want to help you ! Belle !!!
Dorian lets go of his weapon, the weapon falls with a deafening sound for him as, in front of him, the beast seems to slow down. Its arm stops just in front of his mother who, then, looks directly at her son.
— Thank you, Dorian, for giving Belle her powers.
— No, mom, no… I didn't… I wouldn't… She…
In the illusion, time resumes its course and Dorian sees his mother's head being thrown onto his father's by the force of impact, ending him at the same time. His legs fail him, his breath becomes erratic, as tears flow as rivers on his face.
— Happy ? I did help you with this regret, after all…
A single sob is all Dorian can muster as an answer. As the illusion begins to disappear, slowly, methodically, his focus stays on the two heads on the floor, each with wide eyes seemingly looking at him. Those are the last things to disappear.
— Well… I will give you some time alone, but don't worry, I'll come back to you when you'll be better.
Dorian stays kneeling for a time, his gaze unseeing. He clenches his fists and closes his eyes, sobbing continuously. No one knows for how long he stays here, no one but his own shadows. Gibbs, after sensing that its master begins to calm down, gets out of the shadow with a whimper and softly nudges at his hip.
— G… Gibbs…
Still trying to even his breathing, Dorian opens his eyes and looks at his dog.
— They… They died because of me… I… I'm a monster… You… You should hate me…
The shadow shakes its head vigorously and nudges at its master once again with a whimper. Dorian let a wail escape him before scooping his earlier companion, the only friend left around him, in a powerful embrace. A couple of minutes later, his bearings collected, the man puts down his dog with a soft smile, a smile which doesn't reach his eyes. His gaze is cold, focused.
— I have to right this wrong.
Still kneeling, he grabs his sword and looks at its blade with an eerie smile. Only after that does he finally stand, slowly, purposefully. He looks around, his eyes scan all rocks in the cave, in the tunnel, but pause longer on the spot. Still looking at the place where the last part of the illusion vanished, he opens his mouth, his voice sounding calmer than ever.
— Thank you. For reminding me of my goal. I began to forget it.
With silence as only answer, he grins and begins to walk once again, following the empty road.
— Throw me your worst, my dear host, I wouldn't like to be found not entertaining enough.
His steps heavy, the man progresses in this bowel. He closes his eyes and releases numerous shadows, walking and flying ones, with the order to stay near the walls. The hunt is open yet again, and he doesn't need eyes when his thralls' position gives him all he need as spatial perception.
— Closing your eyes won't be enough, you know ?
— I know, I know.
*But it leads you to talk, and when you talk, you reveal much about yourself. That's probably why Garm doesn't talk so much, now that I think about it.*
— Why don't you entertain me too ? You're my host after all ?
A chuckle resounds all over the place.
— You're right, why not. Ask, and any answer will be true.
Now, it's Dorian's turn to chuckle. Either his target is lying or not. In either case, he'll make mistakes.
— How were you able to find so much about me ? I mean, your illusion was so clear about my parents' appearance…
Walking, Dorian waits patiently the little time needed for his answer to come.
— You can say that… You allowed me to use part of your memories earlier, and I took advantage of it.
Dorian sighs, he slows down as he thinks about this revelation. It seems to be consistent with the other explanation, the one he got when asking for the reason for his father's name.
— I see… It's when I talked, right ?
— Yes.
Dorian keeps his smirk hidden, unable to deduct if the other can see him precisely or simply know about his position. His walking shadows part ways in front of him, leading him to believe that there is an obstacle, and he follows their movement.
— I see… You can sense their moves, I understand now why you are so confident with your eyes closed…
The hunter smirks openly, unmoved by this information leak. This much was expected at the very least.
— Of course. Can you humor me then, are you able to tap into all of my knowledge as you want now ?
— Only what knowledge I already have access to.
*He corrected me. He really didn't lie… Maybe he can't ?*
The grin doesn't disappear.
— What happens if you lie ?
— I… Lose access.
Dorian's grin evolves in a full-on smile. He could nearly hear the witch's sigh in this answer.
— LIAR !
He freezes. This shout, this word, this… Voice. He didn't forget it. He couldn't forget it. In his shock, the Stalker opens his eyes only to see Isa, looking exactly how she did years ago, kneeling in front of him and surrounded by corpses. Tears running down her cheeks, she looks at him with hate while, standing besides her, Garm stands still and shakes his head, his eyes fixated on the boy with disappointment.
Looking at it, the scenery in front of him is even more clearly defined than the previous one. None of the corpses is a faceless human, they are all the bandits that attacked his group. This illusion isn't really one, now, his target recreated his memory of the day when he abandoned his found family, when he fled from them. Even Isa's outburst about his lying self is rendered faithfully, to the crack in her voice at the very end of her only word.
*Now, it's then…*
His heart aches. His hand clenches hard on the hilt of the sword, but Dorians grit his teeth. After the previous illusion his mind is already numb about his guilt. Still, this scene hits hard. Before, with Belle, this was a consequence of his innocence, what he sees here is the very opposite, his educated choice caused pain to his family. True, it was instinctive at first, but afterwards he persisted in this direction.
— Don't waste your breath, Isa. The traitor made his choice.
— Yes. I see now, we were never family, he used us until he could find a chance to leave and chase his oh so beloved big sis…
Those words. Never would any of the two say them but, they are close, close enough to hurt Dorian. Even knowing about their illusory nature, about the lie that those illusions are, he can't stand straight being misunderstood by Garm, by Isa.
— No. It's not like that !
— Truly, Dorian ? Why don't you tell them then, they could probably understand, right ? They're your family, right ?
The hunter takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and calms himself as best he can. He can't let this man play with his mind so easily. He opens his eyes once again and walks through their image. His steeled face hides the pang in his chest as he sees her tears from up close.
— What a heartless man you are… Leaving your family without a word. Well, not that I can judge, I'm the same after all.
Leaving his burden behind him, Dorian hasten his pace. He has to find this witch soon, before any other attack can be launched against him.
— The same ? Maybe. What, or who, did you leave then ?
This time, Dorian doesn't receive any answer.
*So he can choose not to answer.*
— I see. Can you ignore me indefinitely then ?
— … No.
*Good.*
As he walks, Dorian's mind runs around what he just learned. His target's power is extremely potent, but it also seems heavily regulated. While he is focused on his deductions, something makes him stop walking. He lifts his eyes and looks around, nearly certain that he already came here.
Sure, the walls and ground looks different than everywhere else but his shadows, still following his command, take a little more space than usual here, for the fourth or fifth time in a row. Even more troubling, he took the same time between the second and third and between the third and fourth.
— You sent me in a loop ?
— Yes.
*Of course he answers, he won't risk losing his link to me for such an obvious question after all.*
Dorian sits on the floor, his back against the wall. His eyes closed, he sends his army through the tunnels with the order to move slowly. They have to take all the free space with each step and let one of them behind every other meter. With this, he hopes to find a clue.
— If you like your big sis so much, I'll just have to follow her steps. And then, you'll have eyes for your little sister too…
*Don't listen, Dorian, do not listen to his treacherous illusions…*
Repeating this thought, as a mantra, the Stalker can't focus all his mind on his shadows, but he will simply have to make them do more laps, wasting more time as they do.
— Look at you, Dorian… Resting here, sitting in a cave. Didn't you vow to hunt me down ? Didn't you vow to avenge your family ?
Despite his best efforts, Dorian can't keep his breathing from hitching. He has to fight himself in order to keep his eyes closed, to keep his focus on his shadows.
— Coward. Failure. I don't have a student like you.
— Shut. Up.
Dorian opens his eyes.
— Everyone, go to the walls, full speed. If you vanish, come back and go at it again.
— Wow man, you really are mad now… Should I tone it down ?
The witch hunter dismissed the voice, still focused on his shadows going full on kamikaze against every square millimeter of wall.
— Naaah… You'll break before me. Go, I love to watch you struggle.
Dorian scowls and sighs. He has to break his target's tailored illusions. For this, questions need to be asked, but his already scrambled mind doesn't let him find anything useful.
— So… Can you give me the precise condition to establish the link ?
*Shit, I'm dumb*
— Yes.
*Aaaand here we are, of course…*
As Dorian slaps his cheeks in order to clear his mind, the voice resounds once again.
— You're doing good, continue my dear guest, I shall answer you truthfully.
The young man takes a deep breath.
— What were all the conditions ?
— Finally a good question ! You had to ignore me, while not under my illusions, for at least three times before initiating dialogue.
— Shit.
— Language, young man. We never raised you like this with your father.
Enraged by his mother's voice, now used by his own target to reprimand him, Dorian swings his sword in the direction where it came from. His sword cleaves Gibbs in two.
— No !
Immediately, he calls back his dog, which comes out of his shadow with its head low. Its master falls on his knees and scoops it in his arms, cuddling it with desperate affection.
— I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't… It's not… The voice… It came from… Mom's voice… It…
All shadow movement in the tunnels stopped as soon as Dorian's knees touched earth. They understand that, should they disappear from shoving themselves against the walls, he wouldn't spare a thought to recall them so they choose to wait instead.
This time, less than thirty seconds pass before he stands once again. He keeps Gibbs in his arms, going unarmed.
— Go at it. Quick.
His army throws itself with renewed vigor against the walls, until a bunch of them go through a place seemingly identical to the rest. Dorian smiles.
— Now, not so smug, right ?
Nothing answers, making the hunter smirk with contempt. It takes a handful of minutes for him to walk out of the earth's bowel, and he finds himself once again surrounded by trees. His smirk falters once again.
— Another illusion then, or is it really a forest ?
— Maybe, both ? It wouldn't be as entertaining if you could tell reality from illusion right now after all.
With a snort, Dorian resumes his progression. Soon after, he must stop once again, as in front of him stand a house, a farm, a ruin. His ruin. Around him, as if suspended in time, the corpses of all his cattle lie in the same way that he left them. A lump locks his throat as he then sees them all rise slowly.
— Oh, what poor souls. Slain by their own owner's order, the last human in which they believed, to be granted eternal servitude… His first slave, condemned to follow his will, has to kill its brethren…
Dorian can't help but lower his gaze, his eyes falling on Gibbs' shadow.
— And this little doggy, the one who entertained you all his life… Didn't he deserve rest instead of… This ?
Dorian's arms shake. The dog, kept out of the illusion by the witch himself, whimpers and tries to nuzzle its master as it senses his distress.
— Gibbs… I… He…
— Even if you ask i… Him. Will he answer truthfully or will it only be your own desire which will make him move ?
As he looks at his dog, his first shadow, the one that he always keeps safely out of the fights now, whimpering in his arms, Dorian clenches his teeth. He can't even be sure of what's happening now, all that he can see and feel from the dog could be illusory senses given by the witch. Should he ask anything to the dog itself, whatever it will end up doing, as long as the witch choses to show something else the hunter will be unable to see his friend's reactions.
— What do you know, about this ? No one ever knew about my sorcery.
— You're right, I don't know anything about your powers outside of the fact that you rise the dead's shadows. But…
Dorian gulps.
— I'm not young, little one. I wandered the world and learned about magic. Yours looks a lot like necromancy, you know ? And I never heard of more than two versions of it. First, is talking to those who have already passed away. The other, rising the dead's bodies as mindless thralls, chained to the necromancer's will.
The hunter feels cold sweat fill his back.
— Now tell me, son of Mathew, to which way your powers are nearest ?