B9 - Chapter 22: Dreamwalker II

Viola was not dreaming. She knew that much.

The days in which she accompanied Zeke were far too rich in detail, far too real to have been produced by her subconscious. The way she experienced those memories was also... odd.

The scenes she witnessed were clearly only a select few. Their clarity and detail appeared to be determined by the intensity of the emotions Zeke had felt at the time, emotions Viola now experienced with the exact same force.

Everything, from sound, smell, and touch to raw joy or anger, washed over her as if she were the one living his life.

But so far, nothing had come close to the torrent of emotions Zeke had felt on the day her grandfather and the other patriarchs had come to take Maximilian away.

That didn't mean his life had been smooth sailing afterward.

From his first day in Tradespire, he had been surrounded by schemes. And behind every one of them, the shadow of Arkanheim seemed to loom.

First came the attempted seizure of Maximilian's holdings in the city.

Viola stood behind Zeke as men bearing signed contracts entered his home and calmly informed him that everything belonging to his disgraced mentor now belonged to them. She felt the fury boiling beneath his skin as he dismantled their claims one by one, until they had no choice but to leave empty-handed.

Throughout the confrontation, his expression never shifted.

His voice never rose.

He appeared every bit the calm and capable heir of House Hohenheim.

That night, Viola experienced him curled up on the couch, crying silent tears as he tried to keep himself together beneath expectations far too grand for a boy his age.

And it was not the last such night.

Hostile infiltrations followed. Then came economic pressure, sabotage, intimidation, and an endless stream of lesser offenses and slights.

Zeke weathered it all.

Outwardly, he displayed a poise and strength that was hard to believe could come from someone so young. Only Viola knew that, on the inside, he was crumbling.

How many nights had she experienced now? How often had she felt every shudder wracking his body, every muffled sob he could no longer hold back?

Every tear felt like her own.

Why couldn't the Empire just let him be?

What was the point of tormenting a boy who had only just started on his path as a Mage? What could Maximilian possibly have done that was so horrible that they wouldn't even leave his descendants alone?

There were no answers.

Only a never-ending onslaught of problems.

She saw clearly how it gnawed at Zeke. With every new incident, a little more of his compassion eroded, his rounded corners filed into sharp edges.

But it was fine.

He was coping.

He grew sharper and harder, yes, but he was still Zeke.

In time, he even began to flourish in the city of merchants. Viola had known that he possessed an insatiable appetite for knowledge, but she had never expected him to translate what he learned into usable products so quickly.

Not even a year had passed before he unveiled a new model of airship.

Having been raised in House Windtänzer, Viola knew more about airships than almost anyone. But even she was floored by the design.

The common balloon-like receptacles that held the Levion gas had disappeared, integrated directly into the hull of the tiny vessel. Compartmentalized containers automatically maintained its balance, while high-grade Runes allowed a single pilot to control the entire ship.

As for the steering...

Viola didn't even have the words.

Flying it was no harder than turning over one's hand. The vessel responded so naturally that it almost seemed alive, yet the complexity required to create that simplicity was beyond anything she had ever seen.

This was no longer merely the work of a talented youngster.

This was the work of a master.

Even within her own family, there were likely no more than a few engineers capable of replicating such a design.

As for mass-producing it?

Utterly impossible.

Viola never clearly saw how Zeke obtained such delicate components, but from the fragments she gathered, every single piece had been handcrafted inside his secret underground workshop.

It was madness.

Seeing the tiny airship in action made her want one of her own, despite her ability to fly without it. It was simply the most convenient means of travel she had ever encountered.

As expected, the ships sold like hotcakes despite their frankly exorbitant prices.

Practically overnight, the impoverished Hohenheim family began to soar.

Viola felt herself cheering alongside everyone else. She felt Zeke's relief as orders flooded in, his disbelief as numbers appeared on the ledgers that would once have seemed impossible.

For the first time since arriving in Tradespire, he allowed himself to believe that everything might actually work out.

How desperately had she wished for such a turn? For his relentless efforts to finally bear fruit?

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This was exactly the victory he had needed.

A reminder that the world was not made only of cruelty and betrayal. That hard work could be rewarded. That there were also—

The memory shifted.

A blonde man stood before Zeke, a cruel grin spreading across his face.

“Maximilian...” the man said.

Viola felt Zeke's anticipation. His certainty that whatever information he possessed would bring him one step closer to freeing the old man.

“...is dead.”

It was like a bolt of lightning had struck him.

Viola felt the instant his joy died.

It did not fade. It did not diminish. It simply vanished.

Somebody said something. Follow-up questions, most likely, but the words barely reached Zeke. He wanted to call the man a liar. He wanted to scream at him, to refute every word that had come from his mouth.

Instead, he did nothing.

He merely stood there, staring straight ahead.

No matter how desperately he wanted to reject it, in his heart, he already knew the truth.

Maximilian was dead.

All his plans to rescue him, all his desperate preparations, all the futures he had imagined...

They had been nothing but the fanciful dreams of a naive child.

After that day, something changed inside him.

Even after the first waves of pain, grief, and anger had faded, he was never the same again. Viola couldn't pinpoint exactly what had disappeared, but it felt as though some vital part of him had gone missing.

He felt... different.

On the outside, he became even more resolute. Stronger. Tougher. More determined.

But on the inside, it was the exact opposite.

Zeke was damaged, wounded, and infinitely more fragile.

It was such a volatile combination that every morning he woke, Viola prayed in her heart that this would not be the day it all came crashing down.

And, for a time, that precarious balance held.

It lasted long enough for scabs to begin forming over Zeke's wounded heart. It was akin to placing a tiny bandage over a missing limb, but it was enough for now.

If only...

If only the Empire would relent long enough, Zeke might actually manage to recover.

As one day bled into the next, Viola clung to the hope that everything would somehow turn out well.

Then, suddenly, a familiar face loomed large in her vision.

He stared into her eyes with the cold detachment only a Mind Mage could muster.

She knew this person all too well.

Otto Geistreich.

Chancellor of Arkanheim and the Emperor's mouthpiece.

A terrible premonition overcame her at the sight of him.

“Ezekiel von Hohenheim,” Otto announced in a somber voice. “You are charged with treason against the Empire. You are hereby ordered to return to Magusburg for your trial.”

But the words that followed made a mockery of that supposed trial.

Viola closed her eyes, but it didn't help. The scene remained just as clear before her, no matter what she did.

She didn't want to see this.

She didn't want to experience this.

And, most of all, she didn't want to feel this...

“Ezekiel. From this very moment, you are stripped of your name and title and are considered part of the Empire no more. I hereby declare you and your kin enemies of Arkanheim.”

Something inside him tore.

“This sentence extends to anybody who does not leave your service by the end of the week. The von Hohenheim household will also be stricken from the records of the Empire, and all past achievements rendered null.”

The tear widened.

“Furthermore, you will be added to the list of wanted criminals. The bounty for your arrest will be set at 10,000 gold.”

The fragile scab over his heart split open completely.

It was no match for the raw flood of emotions that surged through him. It was ripped away like a flimsy tent in a hurricane, exposing the same gaping wound beneath.

It hurt.

Oh, how much it hurt.

Viola felt as though her very being were being torn to pieces, ground to powder beneath the sheer magnitude of the hatred consuming her.

She was certain, absolutely certain, that she would die if she didn't tear out their throats.

Then, the pain vanished all at once.

Viola immediately realized what Zeke had done.

Mind Mana coursed through his body. Its presence was so thick that she could practically taste it on her tongue. It spread through him, numbing everything it touched, killing his emotions and replacing them with pure rationality.

But Viola knew it was not a solution.

Mind Mana only concealed the problem. Beneath all that power, the hole in his heart remained.

Still open.

Still bleeding.

She knew Zeke would not be able to endure that feeling without acting.

A shudder ran down her spine at the thought of what might happen next.

They had placed a price on his life.

Fine.

Then he would show them what theirs were worth.

Viola heard herself speak.

“Hear me well, for this offer is open to all of you. 1,000 gold for every head brought to me. 10,000 gold for every Grand Mage, 100,000 gold for every Arch Mage, and a million gold for every patriarch of the four great families...”

A tiny fraction of the hatred in his heart eased with every offer he made.

Caught within that hatred, even Viola found that she did not care about the lives he endangered with such a declaration.

The pain was too great. The hatred too all-consuming. She would have done anything to feel even the slightest relief.

From that day forward, Zeke received a shipment of severed heads every week. Sometimes, there were only a few. Other times, there were dozens. Each one was preserved, identified, and catalogued before payment was released. Their final emotions remained clearly displayed across their faces.

Pain.

Anger.

Hatred.

Betrayal.

They would remain frozen there forever.

Zeke looked at every one of them.

And among them, Viola recognized many.

Acquaintances.

Friends.

Even members of her own family.

With every new shipment, she felt a fresh pang of anxiety.

Who would she see this time?

Would it be her father? Her mother? Her two young brothers?

And with every surge of fear came shame.

It felt like a betrayal, this sudden concern for her family after sharing so completely in Zeke's hatred.

She knew his anger was justified.

She had been there with him through it all. Her own heart had clamored just as loudly for revenge as his.

But now, all she could think about was her family...

With every new shipment, she was torn between extremes once more.

Her worry for her family.

The flames of Zeke's hatred. Satisfaction. Guilt. Pain. Joy. She didn't even know which feelings were her own and which belonged to Zeke.

All she knew was that it was too much. She couldn't endure this. She couldn't...

“Please...”

She whispered into a memory that could not hear her.

“Let me go.”

Her voice was swallowed by the silence.

“Please let me go.”

Another shipment arrived.

The lid of a crate opened.

“PLEASE!”

More heads.

More faces.

“I can't take this anymore!”

Her heart began to hammer so violently against her chest that it felt as though it might break.

“PLEASE...!”

She tried to close her eyes.

They would not obey.

She tried to turn away.

The memory would not let her.

Faces blurred together, one overlapping with the next. It was an endless parade of the dead. Windtänzer. Feuerkranz. Steiner. Wellenrufer.

Some she knew.

Others she had only seen in passing.

Yet every one of them seemed to stare directly at her.

Judging her.

Mocking her.

Accusing her.

Another crate appeared.

No.

She felt Zeke's hand reach toward it.

No, no, no—

The lid opened.

For the briefest instant, she saw silver hair.

Viola tensed, but before she could truly recognize the person, the features shifted once more. Faces melted into one another, changing faster and faster until she could no longer tell where one ended and the next began.

“Stop...”

The memory continued.

“Please, stop...”

A mouth opened soundlessly.

Another pair of dead eyes fixed upon her.

Then another.

And another.

She tried to pull herself free, clawing for a body she could no longer feel. There were no hands to move. No legs with which to run. No eyes she could close.

There was only Zeke. His sight. His breath. His hatred. And the dead.

“ZEKE!”

No answer came.

Of course, no answer came.

This had already happened.

Nothing she said could change it.

Nothing she did could make him hear.

The realization closed around her like a fist.

She was trapped.

Another shipment.

Another lid.

Another familiar face.

“ZEKEEEE!”

Something inside her tore.

With a start, Viola sat up.

She dragged in a desperate breath, but it caught in her throat. For one terrible moment, the faces remained before her, hovering in the darkness.

Then they faded.

Viola looked down and saw delicate, long fingers framed by soft silver hair.

Her heart still hammered against her ribcage, now even more intensely than before.

But she had to know.

Tentatively, she tried to curl her fingers into fists.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened.

Panic surged through her.

Then they moved.

These...

These were her own hands.

Her own body.

She was awake.