Charice breathed in the smell of a rotting flower and a cold, dark stone, watching as moss seemed to grow from thin air. He did not question where he was nor what he saw, logic slumbering as he dreamt.
He sat on the ground, feeling the familiar desert sands of Maximar surround him and bite against the moss, yet the thick scent of stone persisted. It was a strange smell of a jagged obsidian quality, one that made Charice feel icky and uncomfortable.
Then, the scent of burning paper filled the air. Charice looked up, watching as waves of flame descended onto the earth. It burned away the moss as Charice shouted instinctively. The flame didn't scorch him, but it burned everything around him, leaving nothing behind.
However, over it all loomed a stench of rock and obsidian night, the glass beneath cracking and shifting as if turning to face away from Charice and to this new presence.
And then, a halberd-wielding man appeared behind him, glass cracking under his mighty feet. His hand was steady and gaze unseen as darkness covered his face, with gritted teeth, he struck downwards-
And Charice woke up.
His eyes shot open as his hands went up to stop the blade, fog wrapping around him protectively, yet no attack came. His hands then dropped down, and he relaxed.
'That was scary... What a vivid nightmare.' He sighed, not feeling all that well rested despite being asleep for a couple of hours. The nap did little to ease his spirits; in fact, the nightmare made things worse.
The Consort stood, looking down to find his attire had vanished, and in its place now rested a more casual red and blue priestly attire.
It included a long white cape, no hat, and sleeves that were loose and ever so slightly too long, giving him an appearance that would invoke the desire to protect in almost anyone.
Charice quietly dressed himself, this time moving rather quickly compared to his normal, slow and steady approach to waking up. He swallowed some saliva and sighed, staring at the door to his room.
He felt strangely energetic yet focused, his belly sending shivers crawling up and down his legs in a way that made him almost desperate to act. While the steady hand of order kept his mind focused and sharp, yet no less energetic.
He, naturally, thought about Michael and the dream.
'I should talk to him, obviously... So awkward...' Charice muttered something to himself, hand reaching up to play with his hair as he sighed. He already dreaded the conversation set to take place, but there was no other choice to be made.
Charice had to do something, anything at all, and he had to do it while Michael was still willing to help.
With that thought in mind, he stepped outside and spoke.
"Michael-" He began, but paused, noticing the two Paragons guarding his room instead of his Chosen. "Oh... Where is Michael?" He quickly asked, taking a quiet step back as he glanced at their halberds.
Jeremy looked at Charice and spoke, bowing respectfully along with his colleague, "I don't know, he seemed upset, so it's likely he went to his room to rest."
"T-Thank you..." Charice mumbled as he walked past, his loose robes dragging on the floor behind him, akin to the anxiety that burdened him so.
'I guess I should let him rest...' Charice uneasily thought, playing with the hem of his sleeves as he breathed in deeply, feeling the cold, crisp air fill his lungs.
He slowly walked through the halls, smiling slightly at any maid or guard that passed by him; the smile was ever so slightly stressed, something everyone else except for him noticed.
Charice had no option anymore. The fact was, he had to pray. Now that Michael, the only person here whom he considered himself close to, had so openly shown his displeasure despite his respect for authority and hierarchy, it carried a concerning subtext that Charice failed to pick up - until the dream affirmed it.
He would either lead this nation well, or it would leave him behind.
The mere thought of his beloved's creation abandoning him made his heart stutter; after all, how could it not? He was already abandoned by Maximus - Now he would ensure Maximar would never have a reason to leave.
Now gripping his sleeves tightly with soft, trembling hands, Charice made up his mind.
"I remember how mom used to pray... I-I could try something similar...?" He mumbled, half-questioning and half-stating his intent. His mother did insist they pray together while he was younger, until he made his stance very clear.
She was quite the devout protestant catholic, something Charice found irksome at heart - for why should one love a God who watched as pain flowed and goodness drowned?
Then again, the Gods whom he would now pray to were not kind, but at least they didn't pretend to be. They never demanded love and adoration, merely obedience.
With a nervous gulp, he scrambled his brain to remember any places of note, where he could pray, and made a point to avoid them while at it.
The mechanics of prayer and religion were far too intricate for any player to easily know them fully, but he was confident in his experience.
'Okay... I think it was based on difficulty, right? The more difficult something is for the person, the greater the effect of their action! And the location was important too- I also shouldn't sacrifice anything... T-that would attract more attention than I'd like...'
Charice did feel nervous, but a strange feeling flowed through him, one that crawled down his skull and flowed from his bones. It was a feeling of familiarity, of the mundane even.
He had done these things in the game hundreds of thousands of times, and even if his mind found it all too strange, his new form was already more than used to things. Muscle memory, albeit of a more spiritual kind.
He walked down stairs and marble halls, aware of each corner, each turn, each step that bit at his warm feet. His destination was the outside world - With Abra.
He stood in front of the immense door of the ark, and they obediently swung open as his eyes glimmered with red and blue. His face was flickering with many differing emotions, but he stepped forward despite them.
The hot air of the desert around him washed over his skin, akin to a bath; the loud noises of bargaining and city life hit his ears next, prompting him to flinch before he adjusted. It was only then that Charice looked to the orange sky - the sun preparing to take its bow for the day.
He casually acknowledged then ignored the two Paragons guarding the gate, Charice's gaze shifting upward.
A shadow loomed over the city, Abra's immense wings casting an impressive shade as he flowed in large circles overhead.
Charice felt his eyes shudder pink, the sensation of a thousand ants climbing up his hand echoing in his skin, making him quiver as he felt a quiet reaching sensation fill him.
His vocal chords fluttered, as if trying to speak, yet no sound came from them.
Abra then abruptly changed its movements, soaring down before landing in front of Charice, tail folded and wings raised carefully to avoid damaging the statues.
"Ah...! Erm, Good boy!" Charice said, patting the elder wyvern on the snout before realizing he couldn't climb up onto the seat without help.
'...If only Michael or Maximus were here...' He thought with guilt for the first and longing for the other - yet he would have to make do on his own.
"Uhm... Abra, can you get lower so I can climb up?"
"Consort, would you like our help?" One of the Paragons offered, taking a willing step forward, but Charice hesitantly shook his head.
"N-No... Uhm, I want to do things on my own." Charice turned before the Paragon bowed and stepped away, not wanting to see his reaction.
Abra exhaled with a little smoke, his many eyes already bracing for the pain as he lowered his body to the floor. The Consort then climbed on the wyvern's face, earning an exhausted sigh and momentary snarl.
"S-Sorry..." Charice said as he climbed on the saddle and strapped himself in. Then, he patted his old friend on the back and sighed.
"You'll get some rest soon, just... Take me to the mountains for now, please." With that, Abra slowly stood up and growled, wings unfurling with care before he soared into the air.
The journey was swift, and soon Charice found himself in the Dragon Peaks atop the tallest mountain where they had found Abra all those days ago.
The peak, still shaped akin to a bowl, was perfectly flat and hidden from the city. To Charice, it provided a grand view of the sky and obscured the city from his sensitive soul.
With a sigh, Charice carefully climbed off of Abra, stumbling then falling on all fours against the rough, orange rock under him.
"Owie..." He whined while standing as he instinctively dusted off his clothes, even though there was not a speck of dirt on them. Abra brushed his snout against Charice with a worried look, and Charice could only smile.
"I'm okay...! J-Just stay here for now, okay?" Abra huffed in agreement, a low rumble crackling through the air as the old beast lowered itself to the floor, its eyes closing in exhaustion.
With a gulp, Charice slowly walked to the middle of the large clearing and stood.
"O-Okay... Random place, no offerings, away from The Ark... I can't possibly make... this... any less appetizing..."
With one final glance at Abra as he stood, Charice clasped his hands together, tenderly parted his lips with a tense whisper - and he dared to pray. To whisper his first wish to the divine.
There was no delay.
Charice gasped softly as his lungs lurched, his heart drummed against his ribcage with rapid, desperate beats as adrenaline flowed through him. Sweat then poured from his shivering palms down onto the desert as his knees collapsed under a weight that belonged to beings beyond the physical realm.
Even as Abra's tail shook rapidly, creating an alarming noise akin to that of a rattlesnake, Charice heard nothing.
In fact, the dust beneath him seemed to grow distant, the warm air pulling away as if it was thinning, even as it remained the same.
The world seemed to swim under his senses, sound becoming noise, then turning into a murky sensation that mirrored speech underwater.
Sight remained dark, his closed pupils shielding him from things he dared not witness as touch reached for the world in ways it never had - in ways it never could - ever before.
Now on his knees with palms locked together tightly, through shivering teeth, he struggled to let his heart be heard.
"I..." He finally began as a shadow loomed over him, akin to a shackling chain, as a pink hue filled the air, mixed with a weakened yet lingering afterglow of blue and red. A strange sensation, akin to choking, crackled through his body like a twig's snap.
The sensation curled over his mind, where order stood in muted vigil. It lurched over his stomach, which rumbled in emptied desire, and it finally crawled over his heart - where his prayer remained.
"I c-can't..." Charice's voice cracked, skin paled, and heart stuttered in fear as a will bloomed within. The world around him blossomed healthy as he wilted sick, yet he wanted only one thing in return for his bloom.
Finally, the shield of pink that glowed over his most tender core shuddered and gave way under the weight of both emotion and reason, desire and duty.
"I want my friends... I want Max." He declared, his heart beating proudly even under such potent watch, his desire true and pure, nothing to be ashamed of nor anything to hide.
Then, Abra's immense wing stretched from his resting form as he lazily opened four of his eyes. The cool wind crashed against Charice's rigid body, which shook akin to a trembling leaf desperately holding onto a rotting branch -
Until it snapped and flew away, until Abra brushed his wing against the Consort's cheek and knocked him down onto the sand - and Charice finally opened his eyes as all the intense sensations crashed to a stop without pause.
"E-Eh?" Charice mumbled, looking around in a confused manner until he remembered where he was.
"Oh... D-Did it work?" He asked himself, glancing around for any sign of anything at all - yet all he found was silence.
With a disappointed yet strangely relieved mewl, Charice stood up and began walking toward Abra, dragging his feet across the desert rock beneath him.
"Hah... I don't think I screwed up or anything right...?" Maybe he underestimated the apathy the Gods would show him without a proper ritual or sacrifice? His level in the game was immense, so he considered himself important, yet there was no real hint of divine attention.
"Whatever...! It's okay... I did it." Charice assured himself as he reached Abra, his hand resting on the wyvern's snout as he breathed in and out to calm himself.
Abra sighed, his breath making Charice feel dizzy as he quickly ducked to the side.
"Jeez! Are you trying to gas me with your breath now?" Abra rumbled as if laughing, his scales shimmering in the dimming sunlight.
Charice smiled tenderly and looked back to the clearing around them, still finding no sign of divinity, not realizing the ever so subtly brighter shade of blue the stars had taken, nor the subtle red shimmer the falling sun had assumed.
And as Charice sat on Abra and they rose to the sky, Abra was the only one who felt the gaze of beings beyond even the most powerful of his kind, and he snarled.