Prison of the Mind: Part Two

     Abigail made the slightest movement to get up, feeling that she should be standing as he was, but Alphonse stopped her. The Bori's face had turned solemn. “Give him some space.”

     “W-What, where... it's been—it's been so long, I...” Eliv spoke in a different voice, a quieter, gentler voice, the complete opposite of the one before. His distress showed through that new voice, making it falter and quake. His eye shone with tears for one moment, and then he shook with fear the next. Raising a hand to his temples, the Kacheek frowned and wobbled. “Fyora, my head...”

     Eliv stumbled back over to the sofa, leaning on the armrest for support. "Who-Who are you people? What did you do to me? Why are you here? I'm not... no, I'm not alive, I'm..."

     “There's no need to be alarmed, Mr. Thade,” Alphonse said softly. "You don't remember it, but I've sedated you. Part of you, at any rate."

     “You mean...” Eliv's face lit up with recognition and hope. “I have control? He's-He's been sedated?”

     Alphonse nodded.

     A new air graced the Kacheek, and he stood straighter, a shaky smile teetering on his lips. Walking over to the window, Eliv looked up at the sky, his arms outstretched. Bathed in the moonlight, he shook with small sobs where he stood, free. "I'm here. I'm awake. I remember... the last thing I remember... I was dying." He smile faded, his face falling. "I'm dead. This place is dead. And he'll be back, won't he? It's only a matter of time."

     Alphonse nodded somberly. "The sedation should give you an hour."

     Eliv thought about this for a moment. He then turned to them, a skeptical look on his face. “Why did you come here?”

     When Alphonse gave no reply, Abigail cleared her throat and sat up straighter. She had been transfixed with watching Eliv's reactions, almost too absorbed to remember why she had come. “Mr. Thade, I, um... My name is Abigail DuPont. I'm a reporter for the Neopian Times. I came here to learn your story.”

     The Kacheek's brow furrowed in confusion. “My story?”

     “For over a century, the world has known of your legend, but know one knows what truly happened. The most widely known story is that you... went insane while trying to solve a puzzle your servant had tested you with. Then you, erm... passed away, and began haunting whoever stepped foot in your manor.”

     “That's all?” he replied, not impressed or surprised. “The only sort of story I left behind? How depressing. That's a twisted, toned down version of the truth. There's no denying that. But you... you want to know what really happened?”

     Abigail nodded, biting at her lip and praying he would agree to share it with her. “I-I would like nothing better, sir.”

     “You risked your life, coming here and making it so we could talk. Because of that, for a brief time, I'm free. I suppose I owe you that much. But I'd have to ask a favor. What you hear of the truth must be spread. If I have nothing else, I will at least leave a legend, one untarnished by time. The world has twisted views of what I've become, and I want them to know exactly why that is.”

     Abigail swallowed, nodding once more. “You have my word.”

     At this, Eliv sighed and took a seat on the sofa, tired and relieved. “Very well. Where would you prefer I start?”

     “We're limited to an hour, so...” Abigail replied, thinking it over. “A brief summary of the time you were alive would have to be sufficient. Things like your history, facts about yourself.”

     Eliv's eye slid to the floor as he let the memories flow through his mind, recollecting everything he knew, everything he had known. After a moment of deep thought, he sank farther into the sofa, a nostalgic, somber look on his face.

     “I grew up,” he started, “in the country of Brightvale. It was a beautiful, plentiful place. My family, the Thades, were widely known for their wealth and superior intelligence. With our sharp minds honed through years of education in the one place known for its scholars, we were exceptional—no, extraordinary in our fields. We were looked upon with an unpleasant mixture of respect and jealousy. Growing up into such a family,” Eliv said with a small grin, “meant that much was expected from its offspring. My parents were stern but kind people who raised me with extreme care.”

     With a sudden frown, the Kacheek ran a hand over the mutilated side of his face. “I had a sibling—my older brother, Quince. In the beginning, we got along well enough, both showing much potential. But one afternoon, at one of my mother's tea parties, we overheard the ladies gossiping about how I showed greater talent. They thought we never listened to their chatter, simply being silly children when it came to refined parties. But we had, and Quince had already taken note of the fact. It was true that I was surpassing him, even though he was several years older. Whether it had bothered him or not, I hadn't known for sure. He made a point to hide it, for a short while. But, with time, he was visibly resentful, his behaviors changing towards me. When Quince was of age, he moved out of the house, seeking to continue his research in the Haunted Woods as a scientist. I believe he wanted nothing more than to get away and be somewhere where he would be appreciated for his mind, rather than being compared to someone else.”

     “When I'd grown into a young man, a tragedy befell our family. I woke to screams and realized that the house had been set on fire. I had a sister by then, born into the family a few years before. Quince had moved out around that time. I was lucky. The fire had claimed my parents, and dear Alena...” Eliv swallowed. “The cause of it was never found. I had escaped, though with maimed hands and feet from the flames. Within a single night, I found myself wounded, homeless, and orphaned.”

     “I suppose it was a bit of luck when my brother agreed to take me in, being my last living relative. Quince reluctantly gave me a room in his manor, the very manor we stand in now. I had nowhere else to go, and despite the fact that my brother still held a grudge, I went to live with him. I hoped he had changed, in the time he'd been gone. Perhaps the death of our relatives had brought him to realize that we were the last in the Thade line, and that family was to be cherished.”

     “Life with Quince was hard at first. He had been kind enough to get me a wheelchair till I'd healed enough to function properly, but he avoided me when he could. The servants were kind to me, at least. However, over time, Quince's attitude changed towards me. He began to make sure I was still studying, and every day, he offered me a puzzle to solve. Even with all that had happened, he hadn't forgotten my love of puzzles. It was a shared interest between the two of us, although he had always favored anagrams more than anything. I solved every puzzle he quizzed me with and, compared to his usual treatment of me, it was great fun.”

     “Years passed, and after I'd finished my schooling, I decided to become a puzzle master. News that of one of the last of the Thade line was becoming something so bold spread quickly. By choosing such a career, I was challenging the world to test my knowledge, a famed Thade mind to examine. They couldn't resist. People came to me for answers, seeking out solutions to their most difficult codes and perplexities. I baffled them time and time again, and made good money. Things were starting to look up. Quince, however, grew more jealous with every challenger I obtained. I was too busy to detect it, but his mental stability was slowly deteriorating. It wasn't till months after that I'd noticed, and by then it was too late.”

     “It was a regular evening when Quince came to me, a strange look in his eyes. 'I have a puzzle for you, Eliv,' he'd said.” The Kacheek paused, his next words becoming lodged in his throat. “I-I hadn't realized it, but Quince had changed drastically. Moving to the Haunted Woods had been a mistake. His hatred grew, his mad tendencies being beckoned out into the open. Dark ideas had been sprouting in his mind for years, and yet... I hadn't been expecting what came from him that night.”

     “Quince was obsessed with the idea of an ultimate puzzle, a mystery that could stand the length of time. He had tried inventing puzzles before but, while genius in themselves, they weren't enough to keep my mind at bay. Ever since he had left our parents' household, he had been plotting to get the best of me. However, his growing insanity changed the course of his plans.”

     “That night, he performed an experiment, with him and me as the subjects. He did something, released something..." The Kacheek shuddered, running a hand over his face, unable to continue. "This half of my face—this half is Quince's. By combining our minds, he thought he would have enough knowledge to meet his goals. He had dabbled in dark magic in his time in the Woods, the experiment being a combination of medical and magical. It was what killed me. He brought me—us—back, though.”

     Eliv frowned. “I was then a vessel, while he was the mind. It was as if I was frozen, aware of what Quince was doing but unable to react. He had complete access to my mind and being, while I was put into a powerless, submissive state. I haven't been out of that state till now. Quince is no longer a Neopet, but more of a wrathful spirit, turned mad by magic and letters. He's spent years crafting his puzzles without rhyme or reason.”

     “But why does Quince challenge anyone who enters?” Abigail asked confusedly, pausing from jotting down facts in her notebook.

     “Anagrams,” the Kacheek replied, “were something he could never let go of. He needed letters, letters and facts, pieces to the puzzle. All of that information needs an outlet. He wrote the Grimoire to catalog his creations, and whenever someone crossed his path, he would test them with those same puzzles. Whether it was to help him in his research or just to spite others, I can't be sure.”

     “What happens to Quince's victims? They're never seen again, once they enter. How many have survived?” Abigail asked. A hint of desperation made its way into her tone, and by the twitch of his ears, it was evident that Alphonse had noticed.

     “Usually, they go mad, as they would if they read the Grimoire. After that, they're often as good as dead.”

     “But... are you sure you can't remember anyone?”

     “I'm sorry, but I can't recall any s-”

     Eliv stopped abruptly, stunned into silence. His breath quickened, the look of terror returning to his eyes as he clutched his head. “N-No... not yet!”

     Abigail felt Alphonse grab her forearm, yanking her to her feet and pulling her away from the undead creature.

     “Wh-What's happening? Surely that wasn't-”

     “It was,” Alphonse whispered, his eyes locked on Thade. “The hour is up.”

     Eliv stumbled to his feet, causing a nearby table to topple as he tried to keep his balance. He looked at his visitors' pitying eyes, making him realize the reality of the moment, that this was his last chance.

     "Please!" he cried, staggering over to Alphonse. "End this! If he can't be sedated, then call out his spirit. Rid me of him, or send me back to the grave. Anything but this!"

     “I'm sorry.” Alphonse made no move to stop the Kacheek from grabbing his trench coat, simply looking down at the tormented creature with regret. “There's nothing I can do. I'm so sorry.”

     Eliv wilted at his words, sinking to the floor and weeping. Abigail felt tears brim in her eyes as she got the urge to embrace him, comfort him. Anything to ease the eternal pain he was to suffer, to put his cursed soul at peace. But she knew it would be useless.

     And then, all at once, his cries ceased. Alphonse slowly tightened his grip on Abigail's forearm, pulling her back further away from the unmoving form. Eliv's body shook as high, crazed laughter filled the parlor, and he slowly rose to meet them, any trace of his former self vanishing.

     Quince had awoken.

     The ghoul looked upon them with a kind of sinister glee, as if it had finally won the battle. The one eye that had remained untarnished through Eliv's tribulations now matched the other, both bulging as they glowed the red of hunger.

     “Ahntk ouy,” it crooned with a chuckle. “Live sah vigen ni ta alst.” The monster's smile grew wider, contorting its features and uncovering rows of jagged, blackened teeth.

     Alphonse's grip on Abigail's arm grew painfully tight. “Run.”

To be continued...