I Tripped down memory lane
You are one of the 12 Memory Wielders born within 1200 years that have passed. You have tried to find the other 11 but they have been lost for ages.
Although they are immortal, as you are, they are in hiding in fear of what humans might use them for as well as take advantage.
One day, living your life as a Sold Memory Wielder by your mother, you were on a commission for a real estate agent that wanted to sell a mansion. But this trip was going to change your life!
A/N: I know this is a report but like I said I’m not really well versed on posting here.
Chapter 1: An invited Guest
1901
[Name] POV
You sat there in your cage. Chains shackled to your feel and arm, the cold metal leaving marks on your skin. Your eyes were sunken and hollow as you buried your head in your lap in a fetal position. The chains banging against the cage as little droplets of rain water seeped through the rag covering the carriage. You felt every stone stab the flow of the carriage when you wanted to lay your head on the flimsy wooden boards they called flooring.
The floor was covered in hay and rain water. Your hair was covered in little bits of it. It was matted and hadn't been brushed for a while. You're still wondering, how can someone like yourself get into this predicament? You literally had the ways to escape these people yet you got caught?
How shameful, you thought to yourself, I shouldn't be a Memory Wielder at all. If only you had a bunch of people with you. If only you met those other Memory Wielders. They are probably well versed in the methods than you are. By miles.
Your thoughts came to a halt as soon as the carriage did. You were ushered out of the carriage, and pulled by your chains. The rain made sure you were uncomfortable and shivering. Your feet ached, a prickly needle like sensation across the soles of your feet with each gruelling step.
You dragged your feet across the courtyard to the mansion, water and mud trailing your every step. You stood right in front of the maroon door. Wood sculpted in swirls and little flowers that covered the bottom. You looked closely and felt over the wood. The door handle had a metal lion's mouth with a ring, encrusted with gold.
"Right, Memory Wielder. You need to check the memories of this house so we can fully sell it to Bartholomew the III. He said he wants to use this as his party mansion." Psshh party mansion? What a joke, you scoffed internally.
(Use the JJK Narrator voice for this)
Memory Wielder Power 1: Memory retrace. This technique allows a Memory Wielder to retrace the steps of what had happened to the object they place their hand on. Sometimes it's in perfect detail sometimes it can be blurry depending on who had previously interacted with the door.
It can also be perceived by another host who has direct contact with the user.
Explanation over
You carefully caressed the front door with your finger tips, preventing any splinters from embedding your skin. Then you placed your whole palm on the door.
Flashback
"HELP ME! PLEASE HES GOING TO SUCK MY BLOOD DRY." You saw a man scratching helplessly on the door. Banging on it, hoping someone could hear his hoarse cries. His brown hair disheveled. Shirt and suit in tatters. His body was pale and sweating. Pupils dilated to the max, it might've been some brain injury that caused it.
Then the lighting flashed violently. A dark figure appeared. The clicking of heavy boots making contact with the stairs echoed around the room. Till it got to the last floor.
A swift hover was perceived before the man was ruthlessly held by the neck and a loud chomping noise reverberated through the room.
In no less than a second the man fell to the ground.
Then the figure, with blood stained teeth has his beady rose coloured eyes on the door. The figure licked off the blood on his fangs and grinned.
"I have been waiting for your presence. Y/N."
Flashback over
"[Name] DO YOU KNOW THAT THING?!" You insisted you have never seen such a being in your life and it was a first. The ugly pig of a man threw you inside first and locked the door behind you, along with one of the other men that came along.
You timidly shuffled along the premium carpet, trying not to walk any further. The stairs had red carpet on them. With South Asian cultural patterns, it seemed that it was imported. The chandelier was gleaming, reflecting what it could as the light from the now sunny day was restricted. The wooden floor reflecting its door counterpart. It had such a sheen to it you'd recon that you could see your reflection.
The walls had some sort of special beige you had never seen before. It was like a mix of white and beige in one, it's like you could never see a shade of brown lighter than that.
Your body was shaking vigorously. You have never seen or met such a being in your life! How does it know your name? How does it know YOU?
How does it know you?
The man dragged you along chains and all. Your legs kept bumping the stairs, carpet burns making you yelp and cry out in agony. Till we got to the room.
The room was set out in pristine condition. A canopy bed with white lace and linen hanging off. The bed had a black duvet cover with frills on it.
You saw those pillows. They looked like the most plush pillows you had ever seen. What was genuinely stopping you from throwing yourself on to that bed and sleeping for eternity.
Oh yes, the man behind you. The ugly man behind you. The one with the pot belly, pig like face, sweaty palms. That man.
"Get a move on, freak!" His breath of booze wafting towards your face, as he hurled his verbal abuse at you. It was so vile.
"Ah yes what is actually stopping you from jumping on that bed and relaxing? I hope that man isn't disturbing your sleep?" A liquid smooth British voice could be perceived. But only in your head.
The man behind you couldn't hear anything. He looked at you in confusion as you stood there.
"Open my Coffin [Name]. You will be free once and for all from these people." You looked infront No coffin. You head butted the man in the stomach, loosening his grip on your chains and quickly hightailed out of that room.
The man was writhing in agony, yelling out your name. You used all of your adrenaline to find the room with the coffin. You even stumbled downstairs, chains hitting each step along with your body in a ball.
You pushed yourself up and jumped toward the door on your right. You could hear the man's voice getting louder behind you. You knew he got back up again.
Your heart was beating as you raced towards the door, sweat beading down your face. banging it with all your might.
It didn't budge.
The man's steps were getting closer and closer as you held your breath and did another mighty push with your body weight. The man's footsteps were on your tail, about to reach you.
And then... there it was.
The coffin. The only thing that has somehow caked up dust compared to how the rest of the house looked like. If this coffin has dust on it, how long has it been there? And a bigger question is.
How long has he been waiting for you?
The door immediately shut on the man's face.
You could hear his frustrated banging on the door, yelling— bellowing your name. Trying anything possible to get inside. But it was hopeless.
He walked away. But not to leave the mansion.
But to bring back up.
You knew it wouldn’t take long before he could try and reach me with back up, so you used one of the chains holding my hand in place and tore off the lid on the coffin.
You started coughing as dust scattered everywhere, blocking your airways as you tried to breathe. You used your remaining mobility to shoo away the dust. You fell to your knees with a loud clancking sound on the ground.
Then you saw him.
