Baptism of Silver and Blood

Howick, a remote town on the outskirts of London

Salvador devoutly lowers his eyes to whisper a prayer before leading the way deeper into the cave.

Three Days Ago

Salvador clasps his hands, his expression pious and brimming with compassion.

Now

Your voice cuts off abruptly at the unexpected sight, a crude, makeshift cage sits jarringly in the middle of the empty cavern.

At least a dozen people are crammed inside. They look haggard; several are covered in bruises and open wounds.

The woman clutches her head and mumbles to herself, her frantic gaze and violent trembling betraying her broken psyche.

Suddenly, she looks up and notices your approach.

Her outburst draws the attention of the others. A man lunges toward the bars and seizes your arm with desperate strength.

A thunderous roar silences the victims. The prisoners appear utterly petrified by the owner of the voice, cowering in terror.

The sound of hurried footsteps follows.

However, the man still refuses to let go, gripping your arm with enough force to nearly snap the bone.

The footsteps draw nearer. The man is clearly too far gone to listen to reason.

You grit your teeth and knock him unconscious with a swift blow.

A soft chuckle drifts from the corner of the cage.

You instinctively turn your head. A strangely dressed girl is watching you, her faint smile appearing hauntingly detached from the surrounding madness.

Her complete lack of concern leaves you momentarily stunned.

Time is running out. With no leisure for idle chatter, you leave the girl behind and slip into the shadows with Salvador.

Moments later, two cultists armed with shotguns appear. They flank the cage, leveling their weapons at the captives inside.

No one answers. The prisoners either huddle in the corners trembling or stare blankly in a state of catatonic numbness. Everyone, except that strange girl.

She maintains her casual, offhand smile, leisurely observing the armed men.

The cultists freeze in visible confusion.

Infuriated by her tone, the cultist sneers and aims his gun at her leg.

BANG!

An invisible force diverts the shot, sending the bullet into the cavern ceiling where it strikes with a faint spark.

You and Salvador emerge from the darkness, launching a sudden ambush.

Salvador traces the All-Father's Holy Sign in the air. Meanwhile, you confiscate the cultists' weapons and force them to their knees before the cage to begin the interrogation.

The cultist pauses for a moment, then bursts into a fit of wild, manic laughter.

The girl doesn't answer. She glances at you and Salvador with an innocent, sweet smile, yet you sense a sharp edge of cunning beneath it.

Again, she offers no answer. Humming a sporadic, broken melody, she begins to walk away.

As you watch the girl walk away, a growing sense of unease crawls up your spine.

The source is the jarring disconnection beneath her youthful exterior, a personality that seems almost human, yet feels glaringly, undeniably... false.

After sending a signal to the Chantry, you and Salvador wait outside the cave for the strange girl who calls herself Mouchette.

To your surprise, when she finally emerges from the shadows, she is carrying a sleek, stylishly designed axe.

Mouchette swings the axe several times with clean, effortless precision, as if the massive weapon is a natural extension of her own body.

Having noticed the weapon, you decide to press her.

Mouchette flashes a casual smile and answers with a question instead:

Salvador does not take offense at her remark. Instead, he looks at her with genuine compassion.

Salvador lowers his head and clasps his hands in devout prayer. In response, Mouchette lets out a soft, mocking chuckle.

You cannot tell if her expression is one of mockery or melancholy, as a wisp of mist drifting from nowhere suddenly obscures her face.

A sudden, sharp mechanical clicking sound interrupts her words.

Without warning, the wisp of mist begins to expand rapidly. It swallows Mouchette's figure and begins to shroud the surrounding landscape in a thick, white veil.

With that, Mouchette steps back and vanishes into the heavy fog, her voice drifting away into the gloom.

You move to stop her, but the fog is so dense you have no idea where to even begin the pursuit.

You grasp your Silver Key, preparing to activate Spirit Tracing, when the communicator shrieks again.

It is a harsh, distorted sound of electrical interference that grows louder and more agonizing as the mist surges.

You raise the communicator, waiting for the sound to repeat. The device responds with a piercing scream of utter despair.

It feels like a jagged blade stabbing into your brain, leaving you dizzy and disoriented.

Simultaneously, countless humanoid shapes churn out of the fog, roaring as they lunge toward you and Salvador.

Salvador's stone tablets dart through the gloom, shattering the mist-monsters, but the agonizing screams persist, assaulting your very soul.

Blood begins to drip from your nose, splattering onto the ground, but your vision is too blurred by the vertigo to see it clearly.

Your spirit feels as though it is detaching from your flesh, expanding into a chaotic, formless state that senses the entire village at once.

You feel it, the mist is everywhere, wantonly devouring the land, the buildings, and every trace of life.

And within this boundless white void, you sense countless stars burning with a cold, silent fire, long dead and full of grief.

Salvador's voice echoes in your mind, but the despair welling up from the depths of your soul paralyzes you.

Those dead stars encircle you, heavy with infinite agony. They stubbornly attempt to melt your consciousness and corrode your will, dragging you down into an eternal, frozen slumber.

Just then, a gentle light blazes through your world. Like a warm sun, it wraps you in a steady embrace, driving away the cold and the stench of death.

It is Salvador's radiance.

He has heard your plea.

He has answered.

With Salvador's help, you finally snap out of the dizzying haze. You gasp for air, feeling your sanity slowly return.

Salvador nods, but his focus remains on the unseen threats lurking in the fog.

You look at Salvador with gratitude before reaching for the Silver Key.

Blood drips down your cheek again, but you ignore it. The terrifying realization you glimpsed during your vertigo now occupies your entire mind.

Finally, as the communicator shrieks once more, you reach through the cold, dead stars and make contact with Mouchette's spirit.

Mouchette's astonishment does not last long; in an instant, her expression becomes calm.

Mouchette grips her axe tightly, her gaze filled with vigilance and hostility.

Mouchette freezes. She bites her lip hard.

Mouchette's temporary hesitation vanishes as her attitude hardens again. Her seemingly cheerful tone is now laced with sharp sarcasm.

The surrounding fog begins to churn and surge.

The mask has finally slipped. Mouchette no longer hides her disdain and contempt for Salvador.

The mist surges violently, obscuring Mouchette's face and hiding Salvador's expression.

The only thing you can hear in the gloom is Salvador's heavy sigh and the eerie, rhythmic scraping that signals the approach of danger.

No sooner has Mouchette finished speaking than countless humanoid shapes burst from the surrounding mist, charging toward you.

But Mouchette moves faster. Seeing her about to slip away again, you shout out.

In the boundless fog, the chilling wails of agony echo continuously.

Mouchette instinctively covers her ears, but it is futile.

The pain and despair seep through the fog into the listener's flesh and bone, striking directly at the soul.

Under the weight of the psychic trauma, blood begins to stream uncontrollably from her nose.

Mouchette cries out in rage. In her agitation, she swings her axe furiously at the humanoid mists, only to see them split apart and instantly reform.

Mouchette wipes the blood from her nose and resumes swinging her axe. The thrill of battle fires her up; she can't stop, and she won't.

Mouchette cuts herself off. A sudden light flares before her, followed by a wave of warmth that showers over her, flowing into her very marrow.

Salvador has bestowed the Blessing upon her.

Mouchette instinctively recoils. The sensation of warmth is too alien. It feels wrong. It shouldn't belong to someone like her.

Mouchette presses her lips together in silence. Her eyes remain wary and suspicious, but slowly, that hostility softens into confusion... and a faint trace of nostalgia.

Her lips move as if she is whispering something. Though her voice is too low, you catch the word "Investigator" again.

Before Mouchette can answer, an invisible shockwave washes over the area. The hair on your neck stands on end as the monsters in the mist grow even more frenzied.

Mouchette shoots you an impatient look, then turns her back and steps into the thick of the mist.

Mouchette responds while swinging her axe to disperse a humanoid mist attempting to ambush her.

Mouchette's silhouette sprints forward into the heart of the fog. You and Salvador exchange a glance, then follow her.

Inside the cave filled with blasphemous symbols, the leader of the Sect of Astral Dawn delivers a fervent speech. As his voice falls silent, the captives are dragged to the center of the altar.

You hide in the shadows nearby, carefully confirming the number of sacrifices.

Salvador takes a deep breath in silence, then exhales heavily.

In your shock, you turn to stare at White. The man who was once a priest of the Chantry of Life, now a cult leader, continues his impassioned address.

A dozen cultists swear the oath in unison.

They simultaneously raise their silver-plated daggers...

Even as you shout, the silver blades plunge into the hearts of the sacrifices, sinking deep and twisting with a cruel force.

Blinding crimson sprays from their chests, staining the altar red.

Amidst the blood, you emerge from the shadows to face White, the source of this entire tragedy.

The leader of the Sect of Astral Dawn sneers as he looks toward you, but then his pupils suddenly dilate, and he freezes in place.

Salvador's face is shrouded in gloom. You notice that beneath his heavy robes, his tall, slender frame is trembling slightly.

The scene falls into silence. The only sound is the slow trickle of blood across the altar, soaking into the stone floor.

White's voice suddenly becomes frantic. He looks at Salvador with a desperate fervor, like a child seeking approval.

Just then, a cold sneer cuts through the pious chanting like a needle.

White steps forward toward Mouchette, his hand trembling with emotion as he raises the silver dagger.

You instinctively move to shield Mouchette, but the strike you expected never comes.

White was going to stab himself from the very beginning.

Blood sprays from White's heart, flowing and merging with the blood of the sacrifices on the crimson altar.

As White whispers these words, an invisible shockwave erupts from the altar.

The blood pooling on the stone surface begins to writhe and lift into the air. The bodies of the sacrifices begin to float alongside it.

White screams in agony, his dying body convulsing. The Silver and blood within him are extracted by an invisible force, painting grotesque patterns across the air.

White's gaze remains fixed on Salvador. And Salvador, the Bishop who once poured his heart into mentoring him, slowly traces the Holy Sign of the All-Father in the air.

Salvador's hand trembles as he suppresses the urge to bestow a "Blessing." His lost child has made his final choice.

Salvador sighs, offering a final prayer.

But White can no longer hear him. His expression is frozen between a blissful smile and extreme agony as his heart stops beating.

Then, the silver and blood floating in the air surge violently, like countless boiling "stars" illuminating the darkness.

Within this blinding, grand light, countless unknown flecks of radiance coalesce, forming an shapeless gate leading to an unknown destination.

You call out to stop the cultists who are marching in unison toward the shapeless gate. They seem deaf to your warning, continuing forward with an eerie, steady pace.

Finally, the first believer reaches out and touches the shapeless gate, stepping into the new world he craves.

In a scream of pure despair, the believer's hands begin to twist and melt, dissolving into the sudden burst of intense light.

Endless thick mist gushes from the portal, devouring the flesh and souls of the followers, transforming those who yearned for the stars into part of the "Stars" themselves.

Your specialized communicator crackles again with static, replaying those familiar death-murmurs:

As you speak, countless humanoid shapes coalesce from the fog, roaring as they charge toward you.

Mouchette doesn't finish the sentence, but you understand her implication.

The Mist Disaster is apparently a catastrophe capable of consuming an entire world.

A warm, gentle light radiates from Salvador, spreading to you and Mouchette, shielding you from the corruption of the mist.

The axe flies out, shattering a line of humanoid mists and carving a brief, safe path for you to approach the mysterious gate spewing the fog.

You work the measuring instruments frantically, trying to capture the frequencies of the different dimensions.

One minute passes. Two minutes pass.

Then three minutes, five, ten...

Sweat drips from your brow. You have never felt time move so slowly.

Another bead of sweat falls. In your extreme mental strain, you even forget to nod.

You glance at the sky. There are no "stars" left to see.

You put away the instruments and grip the Silver Key.

Salvador frowns, looking at you with disapproval. You remain silent.

You grip the Silver Key tight and walk toward the shapeless gate, your expression solemn. In this moment, action speaks louder than words.

Unexpectedly, Mouchette reaches out to stop you. She looks at you with a complex expression, as if she is seeing you, and yet seeing someone else through you.

Finally, the internal struggle fades into a smile. She tries to keep her voice light.

Mouchette looks at you, her expression serious and unwavering.

For the first time since you met her in that cage, she looks truly, deeply sincere.

Not just you, but even Salvador is stunned into silence.

Mouchette cuts Salvador off, looking at you both with uncharacteristic gravity.

Mouchette shrugs, pointing her thumb at the Dimensional Gate that is constantly spewing dense mist and eroding the world.

Listening to her, you and Salvador fall into a brief silence, then speak simultaneously...

Having voiced completely opposite opinions at the same moment, you and Salvador stare at each other.

Mouchette interrupts before you or Salvador can react, walking straight toward the unknown and ominous Gateway.

You grip the Silver Key in one hand and clutch Salvador's sleeve with the other, fixing your eyes on Mouchette, too focused to even blink.

Salvador looks into your eyes, seeing a forced calm backed by trembling resolve, and then at the Silver Key in your hand. He finally lets out a long sigh.

You respond with a smile of silent understanding.

Meanwhile, Mouchette raises her hand to touch the intangible Gate.

The moment Mouchette's fingers brush the Gateway, it erupts in a blinding, sudden light.

At the same time, you activate the Silver Key.

The brilliance of the Key resonates with the Gateway's glow. Above, the silver and blood obscuring the sky begin to boil and surge as if guided by an invisible force.

The two energies combine into a soul-eroding hum. It's a resonance that merges with the endless mist, assailing everything around and plunging everyone present into a dizzying state of spiritual dissociation...

From the darkness, a chaotic and distorted flute melody echoes, tormenting Mouchette's will. Even though it is music, she glimpses a horrifying truth within the notes.

The screeching flute grows sharper, like psychic torture. Mouchette can't endure it any longer; she snaps her eyes open.

There is no flute. No musician. Only a surreal expanse of shimmering light specks swirling around her, keeping a respectful distance. Then, a voice, one she knows, speaks.

The light speck vibrates with a low hum. Strangely, she understands it perfectly. Or perhaps... she herself is now one of those specks.

Mouchette misses the final words; the moment the chaotic syllables sound, her head throbs violently, nearly splitting.

She thinks she hears a sigh from the light, or perhaps it's just her imagination. Suddenly, a flood of information pours into her consciousness, seizing her entire attention.

The light speck hums with a faint chuckle. Mouchette isn't sure if it's a "laugh," as it carries no joy. It carries no emotion at all.

As the light speaks, a tidal wave of information surges into Mouchette's mind. The fragments fracture and coalesce, weaving unstable, flickering images.

At first, the visions are abstract and jagged, a blur of static and shadow...

But soon, the chaos sharpens into a single, familiar silhouette.

She watches {Male=him,Female=her} wake in the heart of a crater, eyes wide and unseeing amidst the settling dust.

Years later, people would call it the "Yakutsk Explosion."

She follows as %player% steps into the halls of Mythag, fingers closing around the Silver Key. She sees %player% become a "Keeper," leading a band of "Awakeners" into the throat of a nightmare world.

It is a mirror of her own life, the Investigator, the A.U.G.E. team, and the mission that never ends.

Memories of her own world pull a nostalgic sigh from Mouchette's lips, but the vision of %player%'s life marches on.

She treks alongside %player% through the biting frost of a dead town. She stands in a sanitarium choked with secrets, facing the Dimensional Hounds, witnessing the stubborn immortality of family bonds.

She drifts through the poetry and petals of Cité, listening to the sighs buried in a flame, and the wilting of a rose.

Then comes the salt and rot of Sona-Nyl, the ghost ship. Madness masquerading as faith, hungry gods, and the metallic tang of sacrifice. Through %player%'s eyes, she tastes the pure, concentrated distortion of a world gone mad.

No matter how deep the darkness, %player% and the Awakeners never gave up.

Just as the Mist, the Griske, and the Artifacts could never truly extinguish the fire in A.U.G.E.

Mouchette smiles. She watches %player% and the Awakeners, certain they will fight until the end of time.

It's the only ending that makes sense; she had never planned on leaving A.U.G.E., so why would these people ever leave their Keeper?

They would struggle and bleed until the world was fixed, or until they became part of the scenery. Just like the heroes in the storybooks.

But this reality is far more jagged and cold than she imagined.

The words die in her throat. Rage and frustration are empty weights now.

%player% is her friend, but Mouchette is only a traveler passing through this timeline.

The distance between them is no longer just a "dimension". It is the weight of two entirely different worlds.

The figure made up of light specks chuckles again. This time, the sound is filtered through the bitterness rising in Mouchette's heart.

Suddenly, a voice pierces the silence of her mind. She recognizes it instantly.

Having witnessed the weight of "%player%'s" struggle, she knows this voice is now etched into her soul.

She reaches out to stop the rescue, her mind a frantic tangle of unanswered questions.

But time has run out. A violent tug at her very essence drags her back from this realm filled with mesmerizing light.

The shimmering light remains behind, steady, distant, and radiating a quiet, final warmth.

The psychic hum twists and dissolves into nothingness, taking her senses along with it.

When the world snaps back into focus, she is staring at the same person, the one she can no longer comprehend.

She stares at you, a storm of fury and newfound pity churning in her chest, choking the words in her throat.

Finally, she exhales a sharp, jagged breath and clenches her fists in reluctant surrender.

A sharp pain twists her words into static. After several failed attempts to speak the truth she saw, Mouchette gives up on words.

She takes your hand, her eyes filled with a resolve that is now absolute.

Beneath a sky choked with silver and blood, the endless mist seethes. The invisible Gateway pulses with light, yet its aura of invincibility has finally begun to fracture.

Resolute light flares from the Silver Key in your hand, its brilliance stitching the Time Rift shut and purging the unnatural distortions born of the ritual.

After a long silence, the levitating silver and blood begin to rain down, staining the earth and your shoulders. The heavy mist visibly recedes, shrinking back into the void. Things are turning.

You let out a heavy sigh, shoulders slumped. Salvador watches the exchange, a faint, warm chuckle escaping him.

You strain to listen, but only the wind answers. Salvador offers a gentle shake of his head; he hears nothing but silence.

Suddenly, Mouchette shrieks. She doubles over, her hands clamping over her ears as if trying to block out a scream from within.

Panic flares as you rush to her side. Her body is wracked with violent tremors, and her pupils are dilating into empty, unfocused voids.

You scan the gore clinging to her. Amidst the dark red, the silver is pulsing, moving like a parasite as it seeps through her skin and into her veins.

You and Salvador move to scrub the Silver off her, but the transformation has already taken root.

A final scream tears from her throat as her pupils shatter into jagged fragments. Her body twists, flesh rupturing and bone snapping as she mutates into a grotesque, nameless horror.

Pieces of her flesh spray across you and Salvador, striking the shapeless gate and sending violent ripples across its dark surface.

Before you can react, a psychic backlash slams through the link between the Gate and your Silver Key, hitting your mind with the force of a hammer.

Agony blinds you. Blood pours from your nose as your strength evaporates, leaving you collapsed on one knee, gasping for air.

The axe that once cleared your path is raised high, its edge aimed at your skull. Drained by the spiritual link, you can only watch, paralyzed.

You try to call her name, but your voice is a broken rasp, powerless to reach the mind buried beneath the monstrosity.

The axe swings down, hungry for bone. At the final heartbeat, Salvador throws himself in front of you, absorbing the impact.

Blood carves a path down Salvador's shoulder, yet his face remains a mask of profound mercy and boundless compassion.

The madness is absolute. Mouchette is gone, replaced by a feral impulse to slaughter and erase.

You look at the creature that was once your friend, your voice trembling. Just moments ago, she was full of life and wit.

Salvador stands, stepping directly into the shadow of the raised axe.

Blood from the blade spatters his face, but his eyes do not flicker with fear.

A single drop of Mouchette's blood slides down his cheek like a solitary, crimson tear.

He does not wipe it away. Instead, he grips the biting edge of the axe with one hand and raises the other to her brow.

His bloodied palm touches her forehead. Instantly, a blinding, resolute light erupts from the point of contact.

It is a Benediction, a Priest of this world shielding a lost Lamb of another.

As the light swells, the screaming pain in your mind vanishes. It feels as though a great weight has been lifted from your soul and placed onto his.

His voice is a fractured whisper. Even for him, this psychic connection is a torment that defies description.

Within seconds, the strain breaks him. Tears of blood begin to track down his face.

Blood weeps from beneath his eye-wrap, but the golden light of the Benediction catches it, turning the red to molten gold.

This gold drips onto Mouchette's hand, the light fading to reveal the raw crimson beneath as it merges with the sacrificial blood on her skin.

At his command, the light at her forehead flares with the heat of a dying star, drowning out the blood, the shadows, and the Gateway itself.

It is the radiance of a man pouring his very life-force into a single moment of salvation.

In that sun-bright glare, Mouchette's split pupils flicker with a spark of clarity. Her dying sanity clings to the sight of her own hand.

Salvador's blood is no longer separate from hers; they have become one.

The blood of the victim and the slayer, the sinner and the saint, flows together into a single, unified tide.

Pushing Salvador back with the last of her strength, she turns to you, her face a mask of tears and agony. She raises the axe one final time.

With a final, shaking effort, she thrusts the handle of the axe into hands. You stand there, frozen by the weight of it.

A sob breaks her voice. A single tear rolls down the blade and shatters against your palm.

The clarity begins to fade. Her eyes grow cloudy as the madness claws its way back to the surface. She is slipping away again.

Salvador struggles to rise, his voice a desperate plea. You look down at the axe, your mind a storm of grief and conflict.

This isn't just a weapon. It is her trust. It is her goodbye.

Suddenly, a desperate solution flashes in your mind.

You don't stop to think. You seize the Silver Key and grab Mouchette's hand, diving headlong into the murky depths of her consciousness.

You will use the Silver in her veins to force a transformation, turning her from a human into an Awakener. It is a desperate, suicidal gamble.

As you plunge into her mind, you are blinded by writhing, screaming specks of light. They wail in agony, but none of them are her.

Her inner world is a void. There is no Mouchette here.

Silence. As a human, that final plea for death was the absolute limit of her will. She has nothing left to give.

No matter how loud you scream, only the echoes of the mad answer you.

She has vanished into the dark.

Silence falls, heavy and suffocating. As a Keeper, you know exactly what happens to a human heart when it is over-saturated with Silver.

Still, the void remains empty. The girl named Mouchette is gone.

You close your eyes, exhaling a ragged sigh. Time is up. Salvador is dying outside, and the Gate is widening. You have to move.

You sever the connection to her Spirit Realm.

Dizziness washes over you as your spirit snaps back into your body. You are back at the start.

The invisible Gateway is keening in its death throes, and Mouchette's axe is heavy in your hands.

You grip the handle, looking at the silent girl. She stands there in the ruins of her sanity, waiting for the killing blow.

You look into her eyes, searching for the girl who smiled, the girl who joked. You can't believe she's gone.

She lunges forward with her final spark of life, her hand closing over the Silver Key at your chest.

Not after seeing how hard you fought to save it.

The Silver Key erupts, a supernova of white light that bleaches your vision and swallows the world.

A chorus of screams fills the air, the wail of the Gate, the distortion of the flute, the sound of a world shattering.

Or perhaps it is all a hallucination. In that sea of white, time and sense have no meaning.

When the ringing finally stops and your senses return, the world is quiet.

The fog has vanished. The Gate is gone. Only the blood-stained altar remains, and Salvador, watching you with hollow, worried eyes.

A soft, familiar chuckle echoes from behind you.

You scream her name in pure shock, and then, despite the blood and the ruins, you start to laugh.

Salvador smiles at you, and you find yourself smiling back at her. The moonlight breaks through the clouds, bathing the three of you in a soft, silver glow.

You have a thousand questions, but you let them rest for now.

Perhaps it's the moonlight, or perhaps it's the sheer, dizzying relief of a narrow escape. It feels like a rebirth.

Awakener Mouchette, Welcome to this world.