Dal Shabet

Tavitsy: 851 R, the worms successfully carry his swords to the shore.

That's so cute x)

Added after 14 minutes
...He was still troubled by thoughts of what had happened to him in the fort. Every day he thought about the Emperor, the order, the demons, his life. Having lost the Emperor's patronage, he felt an inexplicable sense of detachment and lostness. But despite this, the mage still felt like the Emperor's servant. Every day he played out situations in his head that required him to act as any ataraxian would. And while before he would have acted as he should without hesitation, now Tavitsy realized that time and again he fell into contradiction with himself and could not make a decision at all. In critical situations where fast thinking is required, he cannot afford to hesitate. And such situations will certainly arise in the future. During the long hundred days of sailing, he had still not decided: whether to renounce the Emperor completely or to ask for forgiveness and repent. Burdened by heavy thoughts, the mage went to bed early, for tomorrow the ship was finally supposed to dock...

...Tavitsy was walking through some kind of cemetery. Fog shrouded everything around. Ravens sat on withered trees and watched him. Names were barely legible on cracked, partially broken tombstones. These were his relatives, friends, members of the order, academy students. All of them lay in the earth in this cemetery. Upon reaching the center, the mage saw an enormous, empty throne. It was drenched in blood, which flowed in thin streams toward Tavitsy's feet. When the mage almost reached the throne, someone grabbed his arm.

- Nemiyiliy, - Tavitsy sighed with relief, - you scared me. Where are we? What is this place?
- You betrayed us.
- Nemiyiliy?
- You betrayed us all. You betrayed the entire order, all your relatives and friends, you betrayed yourself, you betrayed the Emperor...
- Nemiyiliy, brother, I...

Nemiyiliy squeezed Tavitsy's hand tighter and tighter. It seemed the bone was about to snap. Tavitsy could not break free from the grip; he could not move at all. The skin on his brother's face began to slide off the flesh, and the flesh began to decay before his eyes.

- Apostate, renegade, heretic! – rasped the half-rotten corpse of his brother standing before Tavitsy. The mage barely managed to break free from the grip and ran away from the cemetery. The dead slowly crawled out of the ground and rasped after Tavitsy.

- Apostate!
- Traitor!
- Renegade!
- Heretic!

The ground beneath the mage's feet began to turn into a black sticky sludge; he tried to run further, but sank deeper and deeper into the strange substance. The hands of the dead began to grab him and pull him down. He sank further and further, and soon the black slime flowed into his mouth, penetrated his lungs, and filled them completely.

Tavitsy fell onto a black mirror floor. He writhed in pain, vomiting slime from his stomach and lungs. Every breath filled his body with nightmarish pain. He raised his head and saw many pieces of burning paper falling on him from above – demon contracts. A bright bolt of lightning struck above his head, and all the demons he had ever known appeared before him. Breathing heavily, almost choking on the slime remaining inside him, he tried to stand. But he failed. One of the demons lunged at him and grabbed him by the throat.
- Insolent bastard, did you think we could be fooled so easily?
- Tear this fraud to pieces, Balthazar, - Mavra commanded, tapping the glass floor with her spider legs.
- Calm down, dear Balthazar, - Sanexa said, removing the demon's hand from Tavitsy's throat, - he is not to blame, he simply lacks love. Real, passionate, hot love... She pressed Tavitsy to herself, and her left hand slid somewhere down; a clap of thunder sounded, a wave of bright light blinded all the demons and threw them far from the mage. An imposing figure appeared behind Tavitsy. His face was not visible; only the outlines could be discerned.

- This cannot be! You are dead! – one of the demons hissed.

The figure swung a huge sword, and a magical wave turned all the demons to ash. Tavitsy stood up. He wanted to turn around, but he couldn't. In the reflection on the floor, he saw only himself and the blinding light. A large hand descended on his right shoulder, and he heard a stern but fatherly kind voice.

- It is over. They are no more. I forgive you, Tavitsy. You are forgiven.

After these words, an icy wind blew. Cold darkness began to devour the light. Reaching a certain point, it stopped. To the right of Tavitsy, the bright light still shone, while to the left, cold darkness swirled. A large hand, chilling the soul and body, descended on his left shoulder. A low, but sweet and soothing voice was heard.

- It is over, Tavitsy. You are no longer his servant. Forget him forever. Now you are fallen. There is no way back.
- Do not listen to him. I have forgiven you.
- He is dead, Tavitsy, dead. As everything will soon be dead. The dead do not forgive.

An eagle lunged at Tavitsy from the darkness, and he woke up. Scalpbeak was sitting on his chest and staring intently at him. And Tavitsy himself was lying on the seashore.

- The dead do not forgive, - the mage whispered, and the eagle, as if answering, clattered and flapped its wings...