As soon as she left his tent, Daphni fully expected that this would be the point where she and and Elias parted ways, forever. It was not the first time that he had perceived her as a nuisance in his life, but she had perhaps been too daft (or too self-centered) to see it for what it was. Toying with someone’s destiny was unforgivable; and while he might have wanted to live, at one point, she had disregarded how that had changed, on their journey to find her mentor so that she might learn the ritual to save him. Once upon a time, deep in the sacred recesses of his mind where he was healthy, and everything was in bloom, they had found something between them… though whether it was love or merely potential, there had been no time or opportunity to explore it. Elias had never brought it up again… and so she never had the gall to, either.
But this was the turning point, perhaps. The reality that set in, the day she’d performed (and almost lost her life to) the ritual that had saved him. Now, he faced a life that he may not have wanted; and as for her own… well, she wasn’t sure how much of it she had left, or for how long. So, in the quietude of her tent, she silently mapped out her plan: to deliver the news to Eyraille, and be of any help that she could to the kingdom and its allies, and her friends in Stella D’Mare. And when all was said and done, if she had not let perished, then she would return to her mentor, in Ilandria’s outskirts. The old woman (a miracle, in terms of the average Sybaian life expectancy) couldn’t have much time left, herself. Perhaps offering company to one another, in what was left of their days, was as good a future as she could plan for… After all, it was foolish to be too ambitious about what might be accomplished.
With her plan in mind, she was about to settle in and get some rest… until Elias’s voice rang clear past his brothers’ conversation, beyond her tent. Before she had a chance to respond, he entered, without waiting for an invitation. The cloud of emotions permeating his aura literally gave her a headache; she pressed her fingers to her temple. “I thought there wasn’t anything more to say,” she admitted, but the Clematis healer was already talking over her with a resounding No.
She had no choice but to listen to his diatribe, nowhere in which she found forgiveness, or even comfort. But he was steadfast about one thing: and that was that he refused to let them part ways, or else he abandon everyone and everything they had worked so hard to help. Daphni didn’t bother to tell him that he needn’t make such senseless threats, because she was herself not an avid lover of complete solitude. Instead, she let him make his point, let him feel he drove it home and successfully changed her mind. Didn’t bother to tell him that two, simple words were all that were required for her to stay: Don’t go.
“I suppose the analogy of stray cats was a poor choice on my part,” she sighed, rubbing her temples. “I forgot that you had a liking for those creatures. But if you came looking for an argument, Elias, then I will not give you one. With or without you, I intend to be of help to Eyraille and Stella D’Mare… but the Sybaia have never been solitary nomads. We get much further in groups, big or small. Though I do think that you should be aware of some things, if you choose to have me stay.”
Inhaling deeply, she tried to center herself on a long exhale. It was difficult, in the presence of someone whose emotions were running too high for her to think clearly. “For all you plan to see to it that I live, you must realize that the Sybaia do not have a long life expectancy, Elias. Even when our patients are few and far between, the very nature of our practice deprives us of the life energy that keeps us present in the world of the living. Before I underwent that ritual to save your life, I already knew and felt that I was no longer at my prime; I haven’t been in quite a long time. It is becoming harder and harder for me to bounce back when clear the damage the prevents bodies and souls from healing…”
Pressing her lips into a thin line, she met his eyes. “Like it or not, Elias, but when we underwent that ritual… it was me whom the water wanted to take. Not you. And since then, I’ve noticed changes. Small things, but surely they are indicative of something greater. That ritual took something from me that I am not sure I can ever reclaim. And I know that it has sped up the process towards my inevitable end. See for yourself.”
She extended an arm to him, then; the same wrist that he had so tightly gripped as he’d unleashed the full extent of his emotions on her. With the racing pulse that, at the time, he might have attributed to adrenaline. “It always races, now.” She mentioned, with reference to her heartbeat. “Even when I am resting. Working harder to keep me alive. Small cuts and bruises are taking longer to heal than they normally would. I suddenly require hours more sleep just to stay alert. And all of that is just the beginning. I can’t estimate the time I have left, because I don’t know. It could be years, yet; or, months. There is never any telling with our kind.”
Blinking slowly, she withdrew her arm again and rested it in her lap. “I am telling you this not to spite your dedication to keeping me alive, Elias. I am telling you because you need to know the truth of what you are getting into, if you wish for me to stay. You might have been the one dying, once, but… the tables have turned for us. And I cannot guarantee how much longer we will be colleagues, if you wish to refer to me as one. So you must promise me that you will not turn you back on everything that we have strived for, if I agree to stay, right now. Even if, down the road, I end up leaving you, unintentionally. Can you promise me that?”
After a pause, she added, with a small smile, “Though I do appreciate your zeal for ascertaining I walk this plane for a long time, does this mean that you’ve decided to travel to see your mother, along with your brothers? They did mention that helping St. Thorne may also incite alliance with Eyraille and Stella D’Mare. It could work for all of us, in a multitude of ways.”
Lilica’s own feelings about the ornate fountain at the heart of Stella D’Mare’s gardens were also mixed, at best. A place that had become so rooted in her mind as a sanctuary, yet doubly representing a hell thanks to her own recurring nightmares. “I keep thinking you are going to disappear,” she confided quietly, trying desperately to ignore the ache in her heart the accompanied seeing Chara for the first time, in what felt like so long. “Someday… I hope I will feel right, with this place, again.”
But that was as far as she allowed her sentiments to travel, especially considering that Chara did not feel inclined to reciprocate. She was closed-off and professional, as if there had never been anything between the two of them but platonic camaraderie. Now isn’t the time, she tried to tell herself. Tried to keep herself from feeling so hurt. She needs to know what really matters… there isn’t time for anything else. “Galeyn is located far in the east, based on how we have traveled… I am not sure that there is any quick way of bypassing such a distance, even with the horses and rocs at our disposal.” She admitted, after a thought. “I am not certain that the trek can be made in a day. But it may be the best that we have to work with. If your numbers can make it this far, then rest assured, there is room for them.”
Alster was right, though; the dark mage was in no way ready to tell Chara about just what she had inherited; a title, along with a kingdom, since her father’s return was impossible. She wasn’t sure that there would ever be an ideal time to divulge she had unwittingly become beholden to the kingdom that she had awakened. No, that was a conversation that she wasn’t ready for, and might not be ready for when the time came that she had no other choice than to face it. But for now, she could at least embellish Alster’s point. “They know I’m the one that awakened the kingdom,” she told Chara. “They’ve done nothing but extend offers of their help and gratitude. I’ve already mentioned Stella D’Mare’s situation to them, and Galeyn has agreed to make it work. So you needn’t worry about loyalties or capabilities. The kingdom is reorganizing itself at an remarkable pace. ”
As Chara delved into the details of their plan of action, Lilica couldn’t help but grow increasingly concerned for the feasibility of it, especially in light of their wild idea to somehow sway the Forbanne army to work for them. But what came as an even greater worry was the “tidal wave” that the Rigas head proposed, to destroy Mollengard’s fleets. Yet another destructive act, all for the sake of saving the city, while simultaneously condemning it… Not so unlike what Adalfieri had planned with the Serpent, she fretted, but would never dare say to Chara. Because she believed that the determined Rigas caster knew better than to become just like the person who would’ve ended her life, as well as Lysander’s, all as a means to an end…
And then, when Chara revealed the nature of her weapon… Lilica was practically struck speechless. “A summoner… related to Vitali?” The twist of her facial features alone decried that it was hard for the chthonic mage to believe what she was hearing. She’d known that Vitali’s family--on his mother’s part, at least--was vast and eclectic. But what struck her was the coincidence; that this girl would show up in Stella D’Mare, of all places. Someone with a fondness for the wretched necromancer! Then again, Tivia was already living proof that he could somehow burrow his way into hearts. And… maybe it wasn’t entirely malicious. “I don’t have any siblings,” she confirmed a moment later. “None, other than Vitali. Given the extensive contact I’ve had with my father over the past month…” Her throat tightened a bit, at the thought of the man whom she might never see again. “I think by now I would know if he had any other successors, aside from Vitali and myself. But… I would be cautious of anyone who thinks that highly of my brother.” The corners of her mouth turned downward in a frown. “Even if you think she can be of help, keep an eye on her. Make sure she is not working an ulterior motive. I hardly trust the lineage that Vitali and I share, let alone that which we do not…”
Even if Chara did proclaim that the girl had saved her life, there had always been a price with Vitali. Who was to say that this Teselin was really any different? But if Chara was safe… then for now, that was all that really mattered.
But now it was her turn, to divulge what they had been through… and she wished she had more time, for there was all too much to say. So for now, she watered down all that they had faced. Chara could have the details when she saw her in person; in a way, she knew, albeit guiltily, that it would serve as incentive to see her again, at all. “It hasn’t been an easy go; or an easy winter. We did run into some temporary resistance,” she confessed, shrugging her shoulders. “But we also gained some powerful allies in Braighdath, along the way. It is home of the Dawn Legion, a group of renown and dedicated warriors. One which has accompanied us to Galeyn, and has been of the utmost help since joining our party. Tall, blonde, and fierce; just like you.” She smiled ever so slightly at the joke that she knew would not sit well with Chara, but it faded just as quickly. “We ran into some… complications, when awakening Galeyn. Vitali was injured, and his full recovery right now is up in the air. But Tivia knows more details; she hasn’t left his side. For the time being, he seems stable, and he is… adapting.”
She wanted to elaborate, but the stuff of dreams was fickle, at best. Lilica noticed when the very edges of the scenery began to dissolve; a sign that their time together was almost up. “Keep us informed, Chara.” She besought. “Please stay safe…”
The next morning, after Chara had awoken from the dream, she immediately called a meeting between Elespeth, Lysander, and Teselin. It was still too risky to directly involve Atli and Hadwin; as such, Elespeth would decide how much was safe to share with the healer and the wolf-man. “They’re still safe, in Galeyn, then.” The Atvanian warrior breathed a sigh of relief, cradling her dark coffee in her hands to warm them. “Now that Alster has reestablished connection, we are better able to coordinate. But when he spoke to me… it was so brief. Did… either of them speak to the wellness of the party? What of Tivia, and that damned necromancer?”
“...you’ve a necromancer among your friends?” Teselin, who was relatively in the dark about much of this (for she hadn’t been in the know with regard to Galeyn) looked from face the face, her dark eyes wide an inquisitive. All that Chara had told her was that a small party of her brethren had set out on a long errand, and that only recently had she managed to make contact with them again. The young summoner didn’t ask questions; she’d always assumed that she was told everything that it was important for her to know…
And while it hadn’t been Elespeth’s intent to reveal the ace that Chara had hiding up her sleeve, she, also, hadn’t been aware as to just how little the Rigas head imparted to the girl whom she intended to use, so unapologetically. Certainly, there had been the issue of trusting Teselin, at first. She had come seemingly out of nowhere, and her relation to Vitali had only amplified the suspicion on her. Elespeth, especially, hadn’t sought to trust her. But in seeing her desperate dedication to Chara, and the fact she’d saved the Rigas head’s life… that was enough to prove her loyalty. And, certainly, it was enough to inform her that the whereabouts of the brought for whom she so loyally waited, had always been relatively known.
“...you didn’t tell her.” Elespeth looked at Chara, incredulous, and felt her own pangs of guilt. She hadn’t mentioned Vitali to Teselin only because she had assumed that she already knew; that Chara had already told her. That that was the reason for her unerring loyalty and dedication to help. Ignoring the absolutely scathing look from Chara, the Atvanian warrior turned to Teselin. “Yes, Teselin. Your brother is among the party that Chara and myself have made contact with. He was exiled, along with my fiance, and Chara’s cousin, along with her lover. I’m sorry that I did not say something sooner; I thought you knew.”
Teselin seemed to shrink in her seat, wide eyes fixed on the table. Trying not to feel a sense of disappointment. Trying not to feel betrayed. Certainly, Chara must have had good reason… perhaps she hadn’t mentioned anything because she had not herself heard from the traveling party, and thereby couldn’t confirm his safety. Perhaps, this was something that she’d have mentioned, today, has Elespeth not beaten her to it. “This is why I sensed his connection to Stella D’Mare,” she murmured, pressing her lips together. “He’s safe, then? That’s all that matters. No, I’m happy about this. Now I know that I can see him, again.” Her shoulders seemed to relax a little, and she looked to Chara, struggling to hide the hurt in her eyes. “But that isn’t what you want to talk about, is it? Tell us what we need to know. I’ll do whatever it takes, since this cause is so strongly linked to my brother.”
Never in her life would Daphni have thought she would hear those words coming from Elias St. Rain. That he didn’t want to argue, when the full extent of their social exchanges had been argumentative, since the ritual that had saved his life. Not only that, but he let her speak without interruption, when she confessed, at length, the current state of her health and well-being. He listened, without judgment… and he knew. Of course he’d known; the man was so perceptive that he did not miss a trick, let alone the health and well-being of someone he was traveling with. And the way he took her hand--he held it. For the sake of holding it; for the sake of contact.
Something stirred in her chest. Was this really the Elias St. Rain that she had come to know? Or had someone else risen from the water, that day, and saved her from drowning? But as he went on, continuing to admonish her for saving his life at all (and she knew she’d never hear the end of it), she relaxed into the reassurance that he was still the same Elias. Just perhaps a more… enlightened, version. “I knew the risks going into it. And we both survived. So… that is a huge success, if I do say so myself. Regardless of how steadfast you are in resenting me for it.” The Sybaian healer smiled, almost bemused by the flurry of colour in his aura. So different, from what she was used to seeing…
Suddenly, he was stumbling over his words. Proposing that they… wait, was he serious? “...I’ve often thought about it.” She confessed, herself looking away. “I couldn’t help it. Promises like that… highly affect the Sybaia, as I once told you. But you were so ill, and Stella D’Mare was in shambles, I didn’t dare bring it up again. So instead, I tried to forget about it… admittedly, it affected my energies, which is likely why I succumb to sickness during our trek to Ilandria. I didn’t want to pressure you into a burden you didn’t truly want to take on…”
The Sybaian healer hadn’t realized just how far from being a ‘burden’ she truly was. The kiss, understandably took her off guard, sent her racing heart racing even faster. The warmth of his mouth, his proximity, everything about it was temporarily overwhelming… because it was a confirmation. Confirmation of the next steps that they were going to take, together, not as colleagues but… more than colleagues. “I don’t know much more about… this than you do.” She confided, in response to his shy tone. “I’ve never been… intimately close to anyone. If you’re willing to bear with me, we can figure it out together.”
With that resolution, it was far easier for Daphni to fall asleep that evening, knowing that she would not need to depart, alone, the following morning. And she slept well, at that; it was only at the sound of tents being packed, and the boisterous St. Rain twins poking fun at their younger brother, that she awoke the next morning. Truthfully, she could have kept sleeping for another solid hour, at the very least, but it sounded as though they were getting ready to depart. Leaving her tent, she squinted into the daylight, drawing her woolen coat close to her chest. “I’m so sorry… you should have awoken me. I could have helped pack up the camp,” she apologized, but Myron and Felix were hasty to declare that they had everything under control, and worked fastest without interference. In any case, the tents were down and only needed to be packed; there was nothing left to do.
“I trust you informed them that we would be accompanying them?” She asked Elias, who seemed pointedly determined to ignore the two smirking twins. Since she hadn’t been privy to their brief conversation earlier, she could only assume that they had been picking on him yet again. “We can travel behind them. Let them have their laughs; don’t let it get to you when they clearly want to get a rise out of you… and you are rather easy to provoke.”
When she was sure his brothers were too preoccupied to pay them any heed, she chanced resting a hand on his arm. “Anyway… if we are bound to see your mother, then you should put your mind to thinking about what you want to say to her. So should I, for that matter.” Her mouth twisted into a nervous smile. “Again, I don’t know much about family, conventional or otherwise. And I am certain that your mother will not be expecting a Sybaian healer, in tow with the Clematis healer whom she sought.”
Teselin, whose diminutive form seemed almost too small for the table, kept her eyes low, too afraid that if she looked up, she might find then full of tears--and she wasn’t sure why. Because they had known, all along, where her brother was? Or because she was relieved that she did know his whereabouts, now, and that he was safe? These people hadn’t meant her harm; of that, she was certain. They’d taken her in, when she was in a bad state, with no other options. They’d allowed her the opportunity to prove herself, to them, to earn her keep. And now, with the initiative to evacuate the city in place, plans were being made that would involve her finding Vitali. This was precisely what she wanted, wasn’t it?
“If he’s safe, that’s all that matters. Because, as you said… Galeyn is where we are bound, when we evacuate, is it not?” Only when she knew she was composed did Teselin look up from the table at the composed faces of the others. Well, almost composed. Elespeth seemed… mildly angry. “Then it’s sure I’ll see him again. No, don’t get me wrong, I’m not upset--this is great news! It isn’t everyday that I can say I know precisely where my elusive necromancer of a brother, is.”
When Chara turned the attention back on her task, the young summoner turned herself inward, asking herself the same questions that Chara proposed to her; unfortunately, she could find no answer. “To be honest, I have never summoned a tidal wave, before,” she confessed, if it wasn’t already obvious. “But I imagine I would need to be near the ocean, to enact it. Whether or not it takes all day, though… I think that might depend on the situation.” She worried her lower lip thoughtfully, dark eyes turning downard in thought. “It took me hours to summon rain to your crops, and to send messages to Eyraille, because those were tasks that allowed me to take my time. We could afford the hours that it took, since nothing was pressing us, otherwise. But when that man, Cyprian… when he attacked you…” She looked up at Chara again, studying her face, “There wasn’t time. There wasn’t even time for me to leave, and find help, because he’d have killed you. And that time, what I did… the wind I summoned and directed was immediate. Almost ahead of my own awareness; I’m not sure I even realized what happened, until it was over. So I am beginning to think that urgency, or danger, might be the catalyst to inciting my skills. Though when it occurs….” She lifted her hands, palms up, “it is out of my hands. And not even I can determine the end result.”
“You are not suggesting that you be put in the direct path of danger, just to summon a tidal wave…” The Atvanian warrior deadpanned, her brows furrowed in such a deep V that Teselin thought it might become permanent. “That is reckless, Teselin. And if it doesn’t work, and you die? Then this is all for naught; we do not make it out of the city, and you do not get reunited with your brother.”
“With all due respect, Elespeth, this entire plan is reckless.” Teselin mentioned, albeit respectfully. “I just happen to be the most reckless part of it. And it’s only a suggestion, based on what I am coming to learn of my abilities.”
The former knight of Atvany sat back in her chair and exhaled, struggling to keep composed. None of this sat well with here. Not the fact the Teselin played so obediently along with what Chara had planned for her. Or that Chara was so remorseless in her manipulation of the vulnerable young girl. Or that Lysander--a father, Chara’s father--was sitting here, listening to all of this, without challenging either of them. It was a recipe for a headache. “I’m going to be the voice of the unpopular opinion, then. Because it isn’t like I have anything to lose.” She said at last, and reached across the table to rest her calloused hand upon Teselin’s small wrist. “I know that you feel indebted to us, Teselin; or indebted to Chara, specifically. But you have already earned your place and repaid the kindness… and you do not have to go through with any of this. Regardless of your involvement, no one here is going to stop you from finding you brother, if that is your end goal.”
The young summoner didn’t reply right away; in fact, she might have been considering Elespeth’s words. The look in her eyes alone revealed that none of this sat well with her, and were it an easy option, she’d have preferred to stand apart from it all. But this was not an easy option; and she was used to playing things out the hard way. Hiding only delayed the inevitable. “No… I do want to help. I promised. And I’ve seen those soldiers of Mollengard; what they’re capable of. Stella D’Mare offered me sanctuary, and the least that I can do is repay it by helping to protect the city in the best way I know how… in the only way I know how. There is nothing special or useful about me, apart from my abilities.”
“And would Vitali agree? Were he here, now, to hear all of this?” Elespeth challenged, albeit gently. “Clearly, you care for him. And as difficult as it is to believe, he must care for you, too, for you to feel that way. I have… had a younger sister, Teselin. Hell, I was one, myself. My older brother would’ve smacked me senseless, to find out I’d endangered my life simply because I felt obligated. And I daresay I’d have done the same to my younger sister, if she had pulled such a stunt. Luckily, I never had to, because she wasn’t a risk-taker. But if you want to see Vitali, again, then you need to be alive to do it. Or, gods forbid, he make contact with your damned ghost.”
“I’ll survive. I know I will; I mean, I’ve survived everything else that has fallen upon me up until this point. Why should this be any different?” Teselin smiled, so naive and optimistic that the former knight did have half a mind to smack her with a good dose of reality. But when Chara followed up with the comment that one of her comrades made to her, in a dream… her smile faded. “This Alster… maybe he is right, partially. I don’t know my limitations; and I don’t know exactly what I am capable of. But I know what I have done before, unwittingly and intentionally. I can do this; I’ve come through for you on every other task you’ve asked of me, haven’t I?” she emphasized, as if in an attempt to clear any doubts that Chara might have of her. “I won’t argue that it will be dangerous, but… that is up to you, if you think it is worth the risk.”
“I have a difficult time believing that Alster said anything of the sort,” Elespeth couldn’t help but add, fixing Chara with a suspicious, slate-green gaze.
But, true or not, it had the intended effect on Teselin. “Call it a gut feeling,” she said meekly, albeit hopefully. “But if you give me this chance… I’m certain that I won’t let you down. I can make this work.”
Of course, everyone knew that the decision was already made, and had been, since long before this conversation had ever occurred. Chara knew precisely that she wanted Teselin to wipe out Mollengard’s fleets. It had become so ingrained in the part of this plan that she had invited the girl to take part in this meeting, after all. Her ministrations might have been completely over the young summoner’s head, but Elespeth didn’t miss a beat.
When they dispersed after the meeting, the Atvanian warrior stood exactly where she was, even after Lysander and Teselin had departed. Their meeting might have been over, but she still had lots to say. “What do you think you’re doing?” She made no effort to hide the incredulous tone of her voice. And if no one else was going to call out Chara Rigas on her actions, then she had no problem taking that fall. “I thought it was bad, before. The way you benefited from that girl’s desire to be accepted, and to feel as though she earned her place. I saw it from the very beginning, but I foolishly kept quiet, because I believed you would eventually lay off of it when you realized that the only incentive she needs to cooperate is for you to want her help. But I was wrong.”
Chara was tall, but Elespeth, with a body that was practically built to fight, matched her in that. And she did not let the Rigas head look down on her, when they were matched, eye to eye. She would not stand down. “You surprised me, this morning. I thought, that with Cyprian out of the way, and the Rigas council off your back, that you would come into your own, and that these people--your family and friends, no less--would have the leader that they needed. But all they have is another scheming puppet-master.” She was picking a fight, she quickly realized, with someone who could directly affect her future with Alster. In fact, at one point, Chara had even attempted to use her engagement to Alster as leverage, promising to marry them in exchange for Elespeth’s cooperation. The Atvanian warrior had the gall to tell her to back off; someone like Teselin did not.
“Honestly, I didn’t think anything of it, until it became clear of just how much you’re keeping Teselin in the dark, despite everything she is doing for you, everything she is committing to. I didn’t question you because it is exhausting to try and reason with someone who always has reasons, and always justifies them. But making no mention of Vitali, when you could have at least reassured her that he was traveling with safe company… you crossed a line, Chara. You went from being cleverly convincing to downright, amorally manipulative.” The defined muscles in Elespeth’s arms flexed as she tightened her fingers into fists. “I don’t care a wick for the necromancer--but Teselin does. You know this, and you took that opportunity to use it as leverage. You used her family against her. That might not mean much to you, Chara, but that is because you have family at your damned fingertips. Your father, your cousins… you are surrounded by relatives. And who does that girl--that child--have? One person, one connection that she seeks, for better or for worse. Did Alster really tell you that Vitali was ‘fine’? Or was that just another lie you pulled out of your ass to placate Teselin, so she wouldn’t be angry that you’d been withholding from her?”
The flat whites of her fingernails bit into her skin. This had gotten personal; she realized this, on a fundamental level. And not because she was in any way affiliated with the summoner or her necromancer brother, beyond what little she knew of either of them, but because she, too, was an orphan, in all respects of the word. A family who shunned her; a younger sister who didn’t care to see her. A younger brother whom she might never see again.
And an older brother, to whom she had looked up, as solidly as Teselin appeared to look up to Vitali. And who had died before her eyes.
“And the worst part, Chara? The worst part is the reason she wants to find him. She is terrified of her own powers; and she is literally crying for help. She thinks Vitali can help her because their abilites both fall under the umbrella of summoning; his are more species-specific, and hell, maybe he can’t do a damned thing for her. But that is besides the point.” She huffed a breath through her nose, in a futile attempt to compose herself. “The worst part, of all of this, is how you are capitalizing on her fear and insecurity to make her work for you--and why? Why do this, when she had already willingly reached out to help this cause? You’ve only driven her in further, by playing her, to the point where she is disregarding her own concerns. Which, inevitably, could kill us. But surely, you’ve already realized this, and disregarded it as a concern. So let me tell you something that will resonate.”
The Atvanian warrior took a bold step forward. She was too angry to be afraid of her. And even if coming to blows with the Rigas head made the rest of her life with Alster a living hell, the two of them would find ways around it. Chara did not get to decide their fate. “Who does our summoner remind you of, Chara? Certainly, it must have crossed your mind; that she and Lilica share a brother. Lilica, who, if I am not mistaken, also harbored a great deal of fear for her powers--who, correct me if I am wrong, still does. Who suffered the way that she did, because nobody could help her, in those young and vulnerable years of her life. Do they not bear a striking resemblance, in that respect? Or… is that exactly what you want?” Her green, daring eyes narrowed. “To break the summoner, in such a way that she believes that biding your words is her only salvation? To make her fear herself to the point where she loathes herself, and cannot forgive herself for what she has done? After all, if this tidal wave destroys more than its intended target--or if she fails to summon one at all--the oness is not on you. It is on her. So you can blame your weapon, in your place.”
Finally stepping away from the proud Rigas woman, Elespeth crossed the room, where her enchanted sword was propped against the wall. She slung it, and its sheath, across her back. “I’ve said my piece; and I’m washing my hands of this, beyond my own involvement in the plan. If you want to risk creating another Lilica complex, then that is your burden to bear. But no one will stand by you when you find yourself having to explain it to Vitali--or to Lilica, for that matter. You’re on your own.” And, as if to further remove herself from the situation, she added, before leaving Chara alone to stew in her suite, “you can have your spare room back. I think I’ll find more comfort in one of the tents, outside.”
While he might well disagree, Daphni found the dynamic between Elias and his brothers highly entertaining. She couldn’t help but wear a smile on her face, watching the twins gather up what was left of their encampment, wholly unfamiliar with the very nature of these sibling interactions. The Sybaian healer had never herself had biological siblings, but her Sisters, each and any other Sybaian healer with whom she had crossed paths, had been closer to colleagues than actual sisters, or even friends. To see the trio of brothers joking and bantering gave her insight into a world that she had been missing, entirely; and one of which she was happy to become a part.
As they set off to abandon camp, she mounted her horse and fell into stride next to Elias, who--since the night before--was in far more favorable spirits… much to her relief. The cloud around his aura, while still present in light of preparing to face a mother who had abandoned him, had lessened to an extent where she could see its color, again. It had cleared enough that, piece by piece, he was beginning to open up to her; and not in an effort to sate her own curiosity. On the contrary, Elias’s privacy was his own, and his relations with his family were only her business insofar as what details he personally chose to share.
And what he had to share, the Sybaian healer took none of it for granted--and listened with unbiased ears to what he had to say.
“It can be difficult to reconcile the past, in favor of paving a way for future opportunities,” Daphni reflected, after the Clematis healer finished his recount of the elusiveness of his mother. “Needless to say, I know her no better than you do; I’ve never met the woman, and cannot account for what she did to you. But… the way I see it, she is just as likely to be found guilty of neglect of her son, as she is to have good reason for her actions. For that reason alone, you may be at an advantage, here, not knowing her. For all you may harbour ill will toward her as a mother…” She turned to glance at him, finding that Elias was, oddly enough, paying her heed with his full attention. It was enough to make colour reach her cheeks; this was a far cry from the days that he had brushed off her and everything that she stood for as poppycock. It would take some getting used to. “You can face her without a bias toward her as a person. Regardless that she is your mother; regardless that she is in direct relation to a people who have contributed to the fall of your homeland. You are a logical and rational person, Elias; you can weigh her words for what they are worth, without the burden of attachment. And for the rest…”
She offered him a knowing smile. “You can depend on me to see her aura, if you continue to debate whether her words are genuine. Imogen will have nothing to hide, before the two of us. And whatever call you make when we have heard her out, I already told you that I will wholeheartedly support your decision. That still holds.”
Hours later, without stopping to rest, in favor of reaching Imogen’s encampment as quickly as possible, the party of four came upon what looked like a small, utilitarian campsite, which also sported a caravan. In the interim, Daphni had asked no questions, only lent an ear to Elias’s concerns (of which he had many), and many of which had begun to make her wonder if this, in fact, was a poor decision. This woman, Imogen, for her lineage and what it was responsible for, had a lot to account for, and the Sybaian healer was not sure that much could be explained in a way that was both genuine and worthy of forgiveness. For that reason, against her better judgment, she prepared to shoulder Elias’s decision to ultimately turn away from this woman and her vision, and continue toward Eyraille--together, but otherwise alone.
Yet, here they were: no turning back just yet, and no more time to prepare. She could feel the thickening of the tension and smoke that clouded Elias’s aura as his own emotions assaulted his confidence; and she felt helpless to be of any assistance. “Keep your head clear,” was all that she could advise, brushing his arm with a reassuring hand. “Stay distant--and make your decision, after the fact.”
She emerged like soldier from the safety of her turret. A woman with dark curls, lines that betrayed her age, and yet spy enough movement to indicate that she was far from her prime just yet. Daphni was helpless to speak as the Clematis healer, his brothers, and his estranged mother made their exchanges, all which were as tense and uncomfortable as she had anticipated. Elias cared not to make amends with this woman; not yet, and everything, from his words, his body language, to the clouded murkiness of his aura confirmed that. Yet Imogen… It almost hurt, to look at the woman. To see the mixture of feelings that crossed her face, that swam in her aura: fear and sadness and regret and guilt… everything that Daphni had, frankly, expected to see in a woman who laid eyes upon the son she had abandoned years and years ago. But what she hadn’t anticipated was that small, ember-like flicker of longing. Longing for a different outcome; for a decision that should have come out differently. The magnitude of her emotions alone, and the strength she put forth to repress them, made the Sybaian healer feel heavy.
“I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” she smiled, accepting Imogen’s helpful hand as she stepped down from her horse. “And to lend my assistance to your cause. We’d be much obliged to sit by the fire, after traveling in the cold, all day.”
Uncomfortable though it might me, glancing at Elias, and the cold front that he had put up before his mother, Daphni was happy to find that he was still willing to engage--still willing to hear her out, regardless of what she felt. Sidling up next to him, she whispered, after Imogen turned away to make room for them at the fire, “Don’t let your reluctance to like her cause you to catch a chill.” She half-cautioned, half-joked. “You can sit and warm yourself without having to look at her. I’ll gladly block your line of vision, if it makes you feel better.” Her lips curled into a small smile. “Anger will raise your body temperature, but it won’t keep you warm. But the fire will.”
It was not with a sense of self-righteous triumph that Elespeth Tameris left Chara’s Villa, her sword strapped securely to her back, but instead with a deeper sense of defeat and regret than before. There was no changing the mind of someone who saw no fault with their actions and methods. Not only was the Rigas head convinced that this plan was Stella D’Mare’s best option--and maybe she was not wrong in that belief--but that the young summoner’s place in the plan was the best place for her. That it would benefit her, in some twisted way, to expend her energy and the exhaustive extent of her unbridled powers for the sake of Stella D’Mare. Hell, had the former knight not known the haughty blonde woman and her tendencies, she might have been convinced. But in that small betrayal on Teselin’s part, not divulging what she knew of the status of the girl’s brother… the machinations of Chara’s mind were exposed. And with them, the deception.
In that brief, albeit heated exchange of words, Chara had even managed to nearly appeal this ludicrous plan, and Teselin’s potential sacrifice, to her--as soon as she mentioned Alster’s name. Elespeth desperately wanted to believe that the ring on her finger, the promise her fiancé had made her, would outweigh any and all alternative priorities… but that was unreasonable, and everything that Chara had mentioned was right. If not Teselin, Alster would see fit to sacrifice himself for the sake of his home. But knowing that… could she knowingly let an innocent you girl, desperate to find her way and her sole family member, take such a devastating fall, just to save the future she craved with the man she loved?
No, she realized, at once despondent yet self-assured in that realization. I couldn’t, not even if I wanted to… Alster would never forgive me.
Knowing well that she couldn't return to the Villa, even if she kowtowed to Chara with ingenuine apologies, the Atvanian fugitive wandered the safer grounds of the city for a suitable place to pitch a tent. Funny enough, the familiar fellow who crossed her path seemed to have precisely the same idea. At another point in time, and under different circumstances, Elespeth would have scoffed at Hadwin’s unprecedented appearance, as he was wont to do to take people off guard. But she couldn’t even argue with his infuriating pet name, this time; not when he was right, as she wandered this place that--without Alster--was not her home, and with no one she felt she could truly trust. Friendless.
“You’re the one who hides in plain sight; I haven’t seen fit to seek you out,” She told him plainly, catching the bundle in her arms. The fact she did not let it fall at her feet was as close to gratitude as the wolf-man would see from her. “Though evidently that doesn't stop you from keeping well up to date with what is happening in my life through your unparallelled eavesdropping. Well, since you were so kind as to find me a new place to stay, you’ve clearly got time on your hands. Why don’t you show me where you’d see fit to pitch this and help me get it up.”
His caution that she was being watched came as no surprise. Chara likely saw her as a threat to her master plan, now, and she had a sickening feeling that she would find herself in opposition and branded as a traitor if she were caught seeking out Teselin right now. But just because she was being trailed did not mean she could not get her point across--and Hadwin must have caught on, for he accompanied her to what he deemed an ideal place to camp, and helped her to set up her tent without complaint. As they pitched and secured the stakes at the very cliffside that the wolf man had mentioned--one that provided her with a necessary overview of Mollengard’s place below, to keep an eye on their movement and progress--she took every opportunity, while in close proximity, to divulge her concerns. And only because she knew without a shadow of a doubt that the wretched and untrustworthy shape-shifter had a soft spot for their young summoner friend. She’d seen it in the way he glanced at her; perhaps similar to the special affinity he had for his younger sister, one whom he might never see again. If anyone would listen and take her words seriously--and take Teselin’s fate seriously--then, against all odds, it was Hadwin.
“Chara called a meeting, this morning, regarding the plan.” Elespeth informed the shape-shifter, as they tugged the water-proofed fabric over the tent lines. “Regarding Teselin’s part in the plan, to be precise. I suspected as much before, but now I know for certain… she plans not only to use her, Hadwin, but sees fit to allow her to become a necessary sacrifice. A means to an end, if it means stalling Mollengard long enough to evacuate this city.” She lowered her voice all the more, cautious of whomever might be listening, and trusted in Hadwin’s keen hearing. “And Teselin continues to consent, wholeheartedly and unyieldingly to Chara’s wishes. I am sure she realizes the danger, to an extent… but what she does not realize is that she means nothing more to our new esteemed Rigas head than any other expendable pawn. Chara has even withheld information about her brother, the necromancer, because she feared it would otherwise interfere with Teselin’s loyalty.”
The former knight stomped on the tent stakes to ascertain that it was secured. The two of them hadn’t done a bad job; it was spacious, relatively secluded from wind (and other tent with nosy occupants), and presented a useful view of Stella D’Mare, below. An area that now belonged to Mollengard, for all intents and purposes. “Someone needs to sit her down and explain what she is not seeing,” she went on, just as quietly. “She isn’t a child, but neither is she a woman. If our young summoner friend can understand what she is up against--and where she stands in the grand scheme of this plan--and continues to agree… then that is her choice. And I, for one, cannot argue against altruism if it comes from the heart.” She pressed a heavy sigh from her lungs. Alster would never hear reason, when his mind was set on rectifying a problem at the expense of his own damned life; she had come to accept this, but within reason, and only because Alster had promises to which she intended to hold him. And it wasn’t her place to tell Teselin Kristeva what to do.
Nonetheless… If she did not realize the extent to which how little she mattered to the woman invoking her help… “If I’m being watched, I can’t find her right now. But there are no eyes on you.” She briefly met Hadwin’s gaze, her slate-green eyes suggesting that this was not a mere request. “Find her; tell her life means no more to Chara Rigas than the people she walks all over daily, to suit her needs. And, if then, she does not change her mind… so be it. But I will not see her commit to this decision, uninformed.”
Not entirely convinced either way of her place in this plan--whether or not it was truly a good idea--Teselin left the meeting feeling torn, in too many ways to feel comfortable. She trusted Chara Rigas; the woman had been kind and accommodating to her since her arrival, so why wouldn’t she lend a hand where she could? But Elespeth… the she-warrior whom the young summoner could not help but admire for her feats with her fiance, Alster, seemed steadfast in her contrary opinions which directly antagonized Chara’s. And not because she feared what her powers could bring, as Teselin had once believed, but because she cared about… her. Had told her about her brother, when Chara had not seen fit to share that information. So why did she feel so beholden to the blonde, authoritative woman? Why hadn’t any of what Elespeth had said--much which continued to resonate in her blood--swayed her, otherwise?
Because this is not just about proving myself to Chara, she realized solemnly, as she stared at the calm waters at a lake she had chosen to practice her abilities with relation to water. It’s about proving myself to myself… because I cannot seek my brother’s help out of my own fear. Not without trying to help myself, first.
The morning was calm, without so much as a ripple from a breeze on the water. In her mind, disturbing the calm, glass-like surface was the first step in determining whether or not she could summon a tidal wave. Yet, alone with her thoughts, not so much as a ripple emerged, despite her concentration. The young summoner bowed her head from where she knelt, already feeling a failure. Did Chara’s cousin, whom had never met her, have good reason to believe that she would fail? That they were banking too much on a person whose abilities only manifest when they so pleased? The young summoner felt her throat constrict, and tears spring to her eyes. “No,” she whispered to herself, her hands clenching into fists at her knees. No. I won’t live in fear of what I have… I won’t fear the destruction. If I am to live with it, then I am going to use it the way that I see fit!
She thought about Vitali, and the last, sage words that she could remember. What had kept her going, in spite of the adversity that seemed to follow her: Your power is your own, he had told her, back when she had been younger, and even more vulnerable. But only when you come to realize who is the master. I have faith that you will.
If only she had come to internalize those words… if only she could believe it. But she was not there, yet. Not without seeing him again.
Squeezing her eyes shut to prevent the flow of tears that threatened at the corners, Teselin stifled a sob--and then gasped, as in that fraction of a moment, the glass waters of the placid lake rose up and soaked her, like she had been standing at the foot of the ocean during a tropical storm, in direct line of an enormous wave. Spitting out water, she opened her eyes to find that her hands were shaking; and the lake was calm again, as if nothing had happened.
That was when she turned to find that she was not alone--and had not been the only one soaked, as a result of her uncontrollable powers. “Hadwin!” She gasped, her lip jutting out apologetically. “I am so sorry… I didn’t realize you were here! I was… practicing. Or, whatever you can call that…” The young summoner sighed, folding her arms around her drenched form. “Not a tidal wave, and not exactly… controlled. But I suppose it is something, at least…”
At Imogen's invitation, Elias slid off his saddle at a languorous pace; such was his hope that by the time his feet touched the ground, everyone would have retired into their tents for the night. But Daphni had remained behind, catching him in his exit strategy. Throughout their painstaking sojourn to the dreaded woman's camp, she had lent her support, in words and in her attentiveness. While he did not admit his appreciation out loud, he owed it to her to make an effort to mingle within Imogen's company. And so, when he planted both feet on the ground, he nodded to Daphni in unspoken agreement, and followed everyone to the center of camp.
Elias settled on the far side of the woman, who seemed content in keeping a fair distance from him, in turn. The fire was maintained by a few unnamed persons of Kariji blood, as evidenced by the deer-fawn color of their skin and those similarly-shaped eyes. But they kept to themselves, wordless in their stoking of the flames and their passing along communal dishes and bowls of rice, hardtack, and salted pork--provisions most encountered at a war camp than among a delegation sanctioned by majority opinion.
He rejected the offer of rice and pork, stating that he would not touch what others before him had handled. Affronted glares appeared on the faces of the Kariji at the fire, but he'd shrugged and pointed to his Clematis brooch. "I deal regularly in disease, in wounds, in blood and bodily fluids. I know well the filth that passes from one human to another, and I will not contend with yet another disease that aims to kill me."
"At least our brother has remained consistent over the years," Myron whispered to Felix, who was sitting on Daphni's other side. Due to proximity, and Felix's inability to whisper, it traveled into Elias's ear, but he ignored the comment, as he was preoccupied with waving away the bowl of food. Imogen, who watched from her safe vantage point across the flames, folded her hands in front of her mouth to hide an amused smirk.
"You must be desperate," Elias said, after everyone had shared in their tense and unappetizing dinner. "By the size of this so-called delegation, the slapdash appearance of your carriage, and the scraps of food you have to offer, this is not a well-funded or well-organized endeavor. Either St. Thorne as a whole is impoverished, or you have far fewer supporters at home than my brothers have led me to believe. Which is it--Imogen?"
She seemed to flinch at his utterance of her name. Immediately, her hands dropped to her lap, and her eyes pointed toward the dirt at her feet.
"You're correct on both accounts, Elias," she managed, wheezing out his name with a difficulty that belied her impartiality. Clearing her throat, she drew back her shoulders and sat upright, to befit her role with the proper posture and confidence, all of which had drained from her the moment she'd fixed her gaze on him. "We do not have the full support from our people back home, no. This trip has been financed by a small majority faction--my faction. We've scrounged what we have, and forged ties with merchant nations who have an invested interest in seeing St. Thorne brought whole, once more. Our aim, in this tour, is to gain the backing of more influential kingdoms--
"--so that you can cow the rest of your people into submitting to your vision," Elias finished. "In other words, threatening them with peace. Am I wrong?"
"The Kariji don't know how to govern." Heat gathered in her words. She leaned toward the fire, as though absorbing its energy. "Not in the way the rest of this continent will recognize. We need to come together under the St. Thorne moniker. To be acknowledged as a ruling body, capable of fostering tight allegiances with nations who view us as legitimate. And our legitimacy is, unfortunately, still tied tightly with the past. St. Thorne is what they wish to see, because it is a place that holds political value. The dissenting Kariji will follow suit, in time."
"And was this your plan all along? When you infiltrated our city under the guise of a noblewoman, married the patriarch of the St. Rain household, birthed a son, and vanished under mysterious circumstances?" He propped his elbows on his knees and positioned his hands over his gaunt cheekbones. "Sate my curiosity, 'Mother.' Your food won't do it, and my failing body won't nourish me, but how about you? What do you have to say? Will it feed me until I'm full?"
She bowed her head, in anticipation for his inquiries. They were not unfounded, and were as inevitable as his sudden reappearance in her life would suggest, but no matter of preparation could steel her enough for the upcoming conversation.
"I was under orders. By my clan. We were known as the Reclaimers, a rising collective that was ready to take back the home that was rightfully ours." She kept her head bowed, relaying the information not to Elias, but to the border of stones that contained the fire. "They saw potential in me. Saw the advantage in my ability to blend, my swiftness in learning, my devotion and loyalty--all despite my youth. They decided I would make the most unassuming spy. So they implanted me into St. Thorne. I ingratiated myself within the St. Cloud family, and they adopted me as their own, passing me off not as Kariji, but as their legitimate daughter. I was in constant contact with the Reclaimers both within the walls and outside. They directed me to marry into one of the Eight. To learn their secrets. Anything that would gain us an advantage and insight into the enemy. So," she lifted one of the border stones and rolled it around in her hands, "I married your father. He was a stolid man, but uninspiring and dull. He was the right candidate for me. A man whom I could never love. Once I was done learning all that I could from him, I would leave. But other...complications presented themselves."
She cradled the rock in both hands like it was something precious. Something to be preserved. "I was pregnant with you. I wasn't careful. Too complacent in my role to notice, until you were there...growing from inside of me. And I could not...I could not part with you. Despite the threats from my contacts, threats on my life, and on yours, though you were yet unborn, I wanted this. I wanted you. I made my stance clear with the Reclaimers. They agreed to the birth, on the condition that I keep myself fully withdrawn from you, as a sign of my continuous loyalty to my people. I had to prove that bearing a child to the enemy would not in turn bind me to my enemy...or to my child. I did as they asked. I gave birth to a healthy baby boy," she squeezed her eyes shut, "and I tossed him aside. I took no role in raising him. Invested nothing in his life, his education, his development...but always I watched from afar. I watched, and I watched...until the watching became too painful. I had overstayed my welcome. As the Reclaimers had feared, a child became my undoing."
"So," she pressed the stone to her forehead, "I left St. Thorne. And recently after, I left the Reclaimers, too. They wanted to destroy all of St. Thorne. All its people. Mass genocide. An answer to the genocide of generations, perpetrated and perpetuated by Thornians en masse. But you were among those people they wished dead, Elias. You..." She opened her eyes, which were glimmering with tears. "Perhaps that is why I fight for peace. To make amends to you. To fix your home, which I broke. And, while far-flung, I had hoped...that I would see you again. That you'd be alive, and that I could tell you, right here," her swimming brown eyes reached for his across the fire, "that I'm so sorry, Elias. And that I love you. That I always have loved you, and that it killed me every day that I went without holding you in my arms."
Removing his arm from around Elespeth, satisfied in his message delivery, Hadwin returned the pipe to his mouth, only to discover that it had gone out, and that there was precious little left to smoke in the bowl. Overturning the charred contents on the ground, he shook his head, mourning his ashes as one would mourn the dead. However, it was a short-lived process, and he was already cleaning the bowl whilst rummaging through his pocket for more. Fishing out his tin of choice herbs, he opened it carefully and stuffed his pipe anew with the sharp, musty aroma.
"Oh, I've got plenty of time," he mused, lighting a spark of flame from a tinderbox he'd also pulled from his pocket. Swirling the lit stick over his pipe a few revolutions, he puffed and puffed until streams of smoke billowed from the bowl and his mouth. "I run on my own schedule, which is usually not a schedule at all. Which is why I've got time. Because I never track it in the first place. Circular logic and all."
At her bid to help her pitch the tent, he obliged, and led her to the aforementioned cliff-side. It was within the confines of the Rigas estate, but far from Main House and thus, Chara's reach of stinging nettles and other accompanying barbs and burrs. It was close to the forest where he and Elespeth used to meet, and hugged a small promontory of rocks, which appeared loose, but were agglomerated together into a firm paste. As was his claim, the cliff-side beneath their feet crumbled in places, but it was, for the most part, solid ground. And it afforded quite the view of Mollengard's proceedings.
"I'm getting good at all this spy stuff," he said aloud, obviously pleased with himself. "I definitely want a pat on the back for this most strategic of tent placements." Sticking his pipe in his mouth to free both hands, he aided Elespeth in unrolling the canvas, ramming in the pegs, and poling up the insides. Whilst they secured the final layer, which helped to camouflage the tent within the shadow of the natural rock shelter, Elespeth had gotten uncharacteristically chatty with him. And when anyone defied their pre-established patterns of behavior, he was more apt to listen.
"Are we bonding? Want me to pass the pipe around?" Pulling it from his mouth, he offered his precious possession to her. "While I'm floored that you're confiding in me, trusted confidante is not the role I typically embody. I take it that you're only telling me this because I have a certain fondness for the pup, and you want me to do something about it."
That was exactly what she wanted from him. At her expectant look, which was daring enough to meet his luminous, fear-seeking eyes, a feat many failed to accomplish, he snorted. "What do I look like to you? A dream-granter? I'm usually in the business of nightmares. But if it's fear-mongering you want...well, I've experience in scaring people into or out of certain decisions. Like summoning tidal waves, for instance. So," he cracked his neck back and forth, "I'll see what I can do. But if you think I'm playing messenger, and relaying your words with my mouth," he gave off an amused chuckle, "then you'll be sorely disappointed."
He found her on the shores of a small lake the following morning. As he chased the shoreline, he remarked on the continued vastness of the Rigas estate. For a territory that comprised the tops of mountains, it encompassed forests, cliffs, massive structures of architectural integrity, and bodies of water. There was no longer any doubt that this gated expanse could house the entire population of Stella D'Mare, without risking overcrowding.
Searching his surroundings to ensure that no one was lurking, Hadwin wandered towards Teselin--but paused when he heard a deep gurgle from the lake. Before he could act upon the curiosity, it belched cold water straight at him, drenching him from head to toe.
"Well that was invigorating," he laughed, brushing aside Teselin's hurried apologies. "I'd ask if that was your greeting to me, but you're all wet, too, so I'm assuming that wasn't the intended effect. Unless you were desiring an instantaneous bath...with your clothes on."
Slicking back his wet-slick hair from his forehead, he pointed to a damp spot beside Teselin. "May I?" Without waiting for her permission, he plopped on the ground, stretching his legs so far forward that they almost touched the surface of the eerily-still lake. "You probably weren't looking for an audience, but...well, you've got one now. A captive one, if the water is any indication." He wiped some offending droplets from his face. "And this is going to come off as unsolicited, but from my very astute observations, I'd wager that your power stems from emotional distress. The way that you're harnessing it, anyway. And that isn't likely to change from now until your big debut. The thing about emotional distress is that you can't really control it. By its definition, it's not really something you can reliably wield. And here is where I'm going to give you some glowing example of overcoming adversity in the face of overwhelming odds and blah blah," he stuck his tongue out, to punctuate. "Only...I'm not. I'm the example here, and it's not very inspiring, I'm afraid." He planted his hands on the ground and stared out at the lake.
"Emotional distress runs in my family. A curse, or a blessing, what have you...but we all develop the Sight. And the visions we end up seeing are representative of what we experience most, early on. I was a frightened little kid. Pissed myself silly all the time. Every shadow, every sound...that was more than enough to send me head over feet. Believe me, it wasn't pretty. Wasn't any surprise that Fear found me. Since then, it's never let me go. You may think I have it together," he grinned, "because I'm the model of a stable individual and all...but no. For every fear that I see in others, my own are amplified. But there's nothing I can do now, because I can't shut away what I see. On both ends, they come at me, like some really debauched orgy. Fear from without, and fear from within. It's very pleasant. So I fight. And I fight. And I keep fighting, because if I could be fearless...maybe I'll break the cycle."
His yellow-gold eyes flicked from the lake and settled on her--despite the discomfort of making eye contact. The constant visions that assailed him, that drove like rusty nails into his eyes. "There's a reason for this elaborate discourse of mine, Tes. Though I do thank you for indulging in the ramblings of a crazy old man," he winked. "With distress and duress as your triggers, and with the sheer force that's necessary to generate a tidal wave... if you do this and you succeed, you will lose something of yourself in the process." An undercurrent of gravity clung to his normally carefree speech. Deliberate in wording, rumbling from his throat. "Everything that you fear...will come to pass. Control will slip...because you never had control. Because you're afraid of the power. And the power can sniff out your fear."
Not one to complain, Daphni had not spoken up about the hunger that had gnawed at her stomach for a good part of the day. They hadn’t eaten since the night before, opting for a quick departure for Imogen’s camp that morning, and that ever-present weakness and fatigue that these days ailed her had thrived off of the lack of nourishment. All the same, she had managed to keep her head up and her mind and focus on task, though as much as she supported Elias in his approach, and did not blame him in the slightest for turning down a shared meal that evening, her hunger pangs prevented her from following suit. The Clematis healer certainly was one for protesting communicable illness through shared food when he had kissed her, just the night before… but now was not the time to point out his stubborn hypocrisy.
The topic of potentially unsanitary food did not last long, however. The Sybaian healer could sense the heaviness in the air, and the presence of violent emotions before Elias dared to put his mother on the spot, demanding she explain herself--and to convince him that she was not the monster he thought her to be. There was absolutely nothing that Daphni could do to prepare herself for the deluge of emotion that Imogen was about to unleash.
Her words alone were enough to move and to capture attention. Enough to convince someone to listen; and to leave an impact. By the shock that registered on Elias’s face, the Clematis healer could not deny that her tale had impacted him, in one way or another, even if he chose not to believe it. But Daphni did; emotional deceit was possible, but only insofar as someone could come to truly believe their own lies. And perhaps that was what had happened to Imogen; perhaps, in her experience, and in the life that she had lived, she had painted herself a victim to exonerate herself from guilt, and the events that followed, including Elias’s birth, only served to further prove her point to herself. But… that didn’t feel right. It did not feel as though Imogen was deceiving them, or herself, for that matter. To anyone else, a gut feeling might not hold a great deal of weight; but for a Sybaian healer, it was the primary source from which they made the majority of their judgement.
Silence followed Imogen’s tale, Elias’s face frozen in an expression of shock, anger, and disbelief. It would have been easier to bear, had Imogen been outright lying; the taste of the atmosphere, of her heartfelt apologies and confession, twisted Daphni’s stomach, such that she regretted eating at all. Someone needed to say something… so, she did.
“My mother also gave birth to an unsanctioned child; through an unsanctioned union. It did not sit well among the Sybaia.” She began, not really knowing why she felt the need to relate to Imogen’s plight. It was, perhaps, the only relevant connection that she could find. “Marriage and child-bearing among the Sybaia are often arranged, and never about… love. It is seen as a reckless emotion that drains us and and shifts our focus from what is supposed to matter most: the people that we treat. But… she was young and defiant. And she raised me, for ten years, while shouldering the scorn of her clan… until she died, succumbing to the depleting nature of her healing ability. As all Sybaians do, eventually.” The Sybaian healer fell silent, taking a moment to compose herself, for fear that the sadness in the air would spark that painful nostalgia that surfaces whenever she spoke of her mother. “I remember what she went through. How she was part of the clan, and yet other; how she was alone in a crowd of ‘sisters’, who would hardly dignify her with a look… it is no easy task, choosing to bear a child against the wishes of the world. My mother did what she could for me… but, ultimately, there is no right answer. No boon for choosing the loyalty of a clan over loyalty to a child, or vice versa. Ultimately, we can only do what feels right, in our hearts.”
Unfortunately, what she felt in her heart was the desire to put space between herself and the heavy, despondent atmosphere. Placing a hand to the side of her head, which was pounding, the Sybaian healer slowly got to her feet. Where had her tolerance for strong emotions gone? If the tension in the air right now was enough to render her useless… what did that mean for the future of her practice? Or her future, in general, at that?
“Forgive me… it has been a long day, and I am exhausted. If it is no trouble, I think I’ll retire.” Offering a faint smile, she added, “Feel free to continue your discussions. I can catch up in the morning.”
With a final nod, Daphni retired to a tent, where she laid down and pressed her fingers to her temples, patiently awaiting the pounding headache to reside.
Confiding in the mangy wolf-man was perhaps one of the very last things that Elespeth had ever thought she would find herself doing; which only further exemplified her current state of being, stuck in Stella D’Mare as she was. No one to trust, no one to turn to… so she was reduced to this: passing off a decidedly sensitive task to someone who made no means to hide that he wasn’t to be trusted. It was sickening to her, but in all fairness, she had said her piece to Teselin during the meeting… and in Chara’s presence, the young summoner would always side with the stubborn Rigas leader. Perhaps what she needed was to hear it from someone else--someone who had not taken part in the meaning. Another source with another point of view.
Even if that source had to be Hadwin… “I don’t care how you choose to phrase it,” the Atvanian warrior wrinkled her nose at the bitter aroma of smoldering herbs, that wafted from Hadwin’s pipe. “That is entirely up to you. I only say this because I trust you have no desire or motive to harm Teselin; and because I am not in a position to speak to her, myself. And even if I did, she has already heard and passed off my words as mere speculation. I’m not manipulative enough to make an impression on her as Chara is. But you…” She narrowed her eyes. “I am sure you can be plenty manipulative, and even more convincing. Just deliver the side of the story that she does not want to hear--because she may well listen to you better than she did me.”
Watching the shape-shifter wander off, a pang in her gut made her wonder if she had made a poor call, asking him to intervene. All she wanted was for their young summoner friend to see through her desires and aspirations to the harsh reality that she might have to face; not for her to hurt or be broken… which Hadwin was in the business of doing, if Cyprian’s madness had anything to say about it. She had to believe that he wouldn’t harm the young girl in the same way… Had to believe it, because if it left Teselin broken and bleeding from wounds that they could not see, she would be forced to answer for it.
At which point, Chara Rigas would have good reason to expel her as a traitor…
Though her apology flowed more fervently than the water she had summoned to rise in the placid lake, Hadwin appeared to find her attempt more humorous than aggravating. But the wolf-man’s boisterous laugh did little to assuage her concerns, particularly in light of the fact that it was clearly her failure that his laughter mocked. Color tinted Teselin’s round cheeks, and she looked away, pressing her lips together. “I’m not ‘distressed’,” she argued, though it sounded weak, like the petulant contrariness of a child. “I’m just trying. It could be any day that Chara instructs me to summon this tidal wave; any day that you may be required to pull your weight with regard to this plan. I need to be prepared… and I need to start somewhere.”
And you don’t need to stand around and watch, she was about to say, afraid that his audience might only further hinder her attempts for the mere fact that she was being watched and observed, but Hadwin was far from through with is point about emotional distress. She had no choice but to listen as he went into the vague details of his past, and what he had suffered at the hands of his very own magical prowess. It was beyond her control but to feel sympathy for his plight; even if he had risen above it, to imagine what he had to go through to get to where he was now… It was no wonder he so oft threw caution to the wind, and tread the path of life as if it were a joke. If he hadn’t anything to laugh at, then he would be consumed by the visions that ailed him…
It was clear, however, that he was not seeking sympathy through his story. On the contrary, he had a point to make, which he so eloquently pointed out: and the point was meant for her. Because he was likening himself to her, and projecting an image of what she would become, should she continue to harness her abilities in the way that she was. That she would become everything she feared… a tool of her own magic, and not the other way around. Your power is your own, but only when you come to realize who is the master…
She was not the master; it was mastering her… and she was entirely at a loss as to how to turn the tables.
“I seem to be getting a lot of mixes messages, today,” the young summoner sighed, rubbing one of her temples, as if everything that had accumulated since that morning had begun to give her a headache. “First Chara Rigas tells me that I’m too dangerous… but that in being dangerous, I’m at my most useful. Then the warrior, Elespeth, fears for my safety in light of myself and what I can do… and now you’re telling me that if I continue on as I have been, that I’ll be destroying myself. Is that essentially the jist of it?”
None of this, however, came as a surprise. It only struck her as odd that everyone appeared to be speaking precisely what was on her mind, giving words to her concerns and reflections. All of which she had been fervently fighting off, ignoring, for the sake of improving her craft; throwing fear to the wayside to test the boundaries of what she could do. It had occurred to her that she might literally be playing with fire; but it hadn’t mattered.
After all, she had literally survived everything that life had thrown at her thus far, completely unscathed. What was to say that this would be any different?
“The only thing that I am afraid of is failure.” She argued with the wolf-man’s appraisal. “Your fear radar must be off, Hadwin. The only thing that will get me any further with my abilities is to execute them… which is what I am doing. And if you’re determined to tell me that what I am doing is only going to be a detriment to me and everyone around me… then what do I do?”
Heaving a sigh of frustration, the young summoner dropped to the damp grass and dangled her bare feet in the cool stream, her face a mixture of annoyance, frustration, and concern. “If I go back to what I was doing before--absolutely nothing, trying to ignore and run from my magic… then it will only get worse. I won’t come to understand it. At least, knowing that I can incite this--” she gestured to the wide, crystalline lake, “then I am on my way to understanding it. Even if emotions are as volatile as the power that they command… it is still something. It still means that I can make a difference, here, for this place and these people. And this is what I intend to do. My brother told me that power becomes your own only when you realize you are the master… I can’t even begin to master it if I’m not at least trying to use it. Even if the way in which I am using it isn’t…. Ideal.”
Teselin dipped her head, watching as the movement of her feet disturbed the surface of the placid waters. “Listen… I know what everyone is thinking without actually deigning to tell me. That Chara Rigas is using me like a pawn in this master plan that we’ve formed; that she cares little for the potential of what destruction that I might cause, and even less for my life and well-being. Elespeth alluded to as much, today… and I believe her. I didn’t want it to be true, but I am not so naive that I can delude myself to such an extent. Why would anyone here be invested in the life of an intruder?” She shook her head, her silky, chin-length tresses of shiny dark umber obscuring most of her face. “But I owe it to Stella D’Mare for providing me with refuge, when I otherwise might have met a far less desirable fate. And… I owe it to myself to do some good with the power that has only haunted me, for as long as I can remember. I’m not being used if I am willingly playing along.”
Turning her face to Hadwin, her lips a thin line, she asked, “So what can I do? Removing myself from this plan--rescinding my promise to help… isn’t an option. Not for me. So if you are going to come to me and identify the problem…” The young woman furrowed her eyebrows. “Then the least you can do is offer a solution. You said, before, that you’d like to help me. So… help me, then.”
Perhaps it was out of desperation that Elespeth, as soon as the tent was pitched and she secured a cot, saw fit to nap, in hopes that maybe--just maybe--Alster might also be asleep, wherever he was. With no one to talk to, and no idea how to proceed with the ludicrous plan they had in place, the former knight was in desperate need of camaraderie from someone she trusted… someone who would hear her out. She needed to know what Alster had said to Chara; needed to know if he was aware of the risk that she was taking, and that a young girl’s safety was at stake. Maybe she was the only one with the mindset that this was wrong, and not worth the risk to Stella D’Mare, or to Teselin… Alster was the only one with sound enough mind that she felt she could ask.
For a while, the Atvanian warrior drifted through her own detached dreams, until at last, a familiar tree came into view--and with it, a familiar, blonde-haired figure. “Alster.” She breathed his name, and threw herself into his arms the moment he turned around. Why was it, that these encounters had to deal in the heaviness of their reality, when all she wanted was to bask in a dream with the person she loved…
“Chara said you contacted her… I don’t know what she told you, but I have a feeling she was not relaying the truth, in its entirety, to everyone else.” Pulling back, she met his eyes, her slate-green irises swimming with concern. “There is too much at risk. She plans to use the summoner girl to summon a tidal wave to devastate Mollengard’s fleet of ships. But we don’t know if the girl can succeed; and if she does, we don’t know that she won’t entirely destroy the city, because she wields no control over her powers. And Chara… she’s manipulating her, Alster. She didn’t even tell her that she was aware of Vitali’s whereabouts; she told her that you said she would fail, to try and motivate her to try harder.” She pressed her lips together in a firm line. “Chara doesn’t understand what she is getting into; and Teselin doesn’t seem to understand that she may well never find Vitali, if this plan takes her life. I’m powerless, here… Chara is even having me watched, because she’s afraid I’ll talk Teselin out of it. You need to talk to her, Alster. Maybe you can get through to her. Or if not you… maybe Lilica.”
Daphni hadn’t expected Elias to stay at the fireside for long, after Imogen unloaded the full extent of her burden to--to what? Explain her absence, her actions? To try to make him understand, in hopes that he would forgive her? The woman’s motivations were still lost on the Sybaian healer, even if her emotions rang true, and clear, and undeniably painful. Clearly, Elias’s mother had regrets, but whether or not she desired to right herself for what she had done to him--if it was even possible--remained to be seen. And whatever Imogen decided, Daphni merely hoped she decided her course of action soon, and not in the Sybaian healer’s presence. The onslaught of emotion was too strong; and she was too tired to handle it.
Nonetheless, it hadn’t occurred to her that the Clematis healer, after leaving the company of his mother, would go and seek her out, afterwards. But when he did, his own aura still buzzing with emotion from the uncertainty and confusion that plagued him, she couldn’t help but wonder if he did so to reprimand her for sympathizing with his mother, while he, himself, remained so contrary and resistant to the woman’s sentiments. It was not without surprise that she soon discovered he was not here to berate her, but, instead, to help. Perhaps in light of the… development between them, it should not have struck her as such an oddity, but the care he showed her was something that he would have to get used to.
“Elias. You really think you can fool a Sybaian by telling her you are inherently able to shut out emotion?” A wry smile played on the woman’ lips, in spite of the discomfort throbbing at her temples. “You might be able to temper and see past your own emotions, which is useful and commendable, but you cannot tell me you are not affected by your mother’s words. I do not know precisely what she intended with them, but… I believe that they are genuine. It is a great feat to deceive yourself, let alone others, with the magnitude of such sadness and remorse. Today might not be the day, or tomorrow, for that matter, but eventually… eventually, someday, you might want to try forgiveness. If not for her, then for yourself. To ensure that you will no longer be affected by such display of emotion.”
Complying with his request, as it was less a command, and more of a kind suggestion, the Sybaian healer laid on her back in the tent, blue eyes focused on the ceiling above. “You cannot blame me affliction on recklessness, this time, you know,” she mentioned, as he brought up each and every other time she had required his assistance, following treatment for her own patients. “I wasn’t trying to feel for your mother; or to feel at all, for that matter. Sometimes merely being present for such a display of emotion is enough to send a Sybaian healer to bed… though I never used to be so intolerant of atmospheres that sadness and regret were enough to fell me.” Yet another sign of her gradually deteriorating condition, she reasoned, ever since her near-death at the ritual that had saved Elias’s life… But at least she had the help of the Clematis healer to temper those ill-effects, as he was doing now.
“Resented each other? Elias,” Daphni couldn’t help but chuckle, as relief for her pounding headache spilled from his fingertips. “I never resented you. On the contrary, I, among many other Sybaia, thoroughly respected your practice. Though it did sour me, the way you brushed off mine as a mere charlatan’s act, to convince patients that they were recovering when in fact it was only smoke and mirrors… and don’t try to convince me that you felt otherwise. Fortunately for you, I am of the forgiving type.”
He was right, though. Those had been simpler times. And family… well, that was where her insight failed her. “I wish there was more I could do to temper the thick, nauseating air that surrounds you in the presence of your family… but to be very honest, families are not my area of expertise. Simply because my own experience with my own was… brief, and not very well-rounded. Nonetheless… I could see it as being rewarding to work through these tensions. So that you, yourself, are not later plagued with the regret of never knowing your mother, even when the opportunity presented itself to you. But I know better than to push you on that matter; ultimately, the decision is yours, as I’ve been saying all along.”
With the gradual relief from her headache lulling her into a more relaxed state, Daphni began to feel herself drift, which was no rare occurrence, these days. Not when she seemed to require a good deal more sleep. “Let us make for Eyraille in the morning. That is, and should remain, our task at hand… and we will navigate the situation which is your mother, in the interim, as the need arises.”
Adjusting her position on her uncomfortably damp seat next to the lake, Teselin stared into the placid waters, as if they could provide her with the answers that she so desperately needed. Hadn’t that been the extent of her young life, thus far? Wandering, searching for answers that nobody had? Such had been the result of her life of trial and error: hoping for the best, but expecting the worst. Trying to settle into a quaint, hilltop village… only to find it struck by lightning, after awakening from a nightmare, and watching a third of it go up in flames. It had spurred the search for her brother, but she knew Vitali well enough that he was loathe to offer help to those who had not tried, at the very least, to help themselves. And when she found him, she would need to divulge what she knew--however little it was. When disasters occured, when she didn’t want them to, or why nothing at all occurred, when she did. These were the details that would help him to help her… meaning that the trial and error was far from over.
“It isn’t so much that I’ve kept my power under wraps, as it is that I’ve… tried to ignore it. Like if I cannot see it and don’t pay it any heed, it will go away. But… problems don’t just vanish because we want them to.” She sighed. “So I know I need to take a more active approach. I need to test the boundaries, to know where they are, but… how do I do this safely? Without risking the lives or safety of anyone with the vicinity? I… I caused lightning to strike a village, Hadwin. Literally a third of it went up in flames. I don’t know how many people, if any, died, because I did not want to ask… and that was without even trying.” Looking up, she met his eyes. “But imagine… imagine what could happen if I tried. I need the space to allow myself not to hold back. But where can I find that?”
It shouldn’t have surprised her that Hadwin did, in fact, have the solution that she sought. And despite his warning that she might not find it pleasant, she implored him, “What is it? What can we do to try this safely? I’ll do anything, I’m willing to try anything if it helps me learn how to affect the word around me willingly. If it will… will help me stop a potential disaster before it happens.”
Knowing what she did of the shape-shifter, Teselin should really have anticipated what he would suggest. After all, he was a master of fear, could read the fear in people’s eyes that they would sooner forget about, or perhaps before they even realized what they were afraid of. Which intrigued her as much as it startled her. She knew she was afraid of her powers; but how, and in what way, or by what means, she wasn’t yet clear. Because she had been hiding from them for too long to dwell on it. “If you’re suggesting the same methods that you used to drive Cyprian mad…” she began, looking uncertain for a brief moment, “what guarantee is there that this won’t hurt me, just as badly? That it won’t make it worse?”
There was no guarantee; Teselin knew that before Hadwin had to say it. But every step, from now until the day came that they were forced to enact their plan, was going to be a risk. If she did not dive in right now and face the absolute worst of it… what would await her when the time came that it actually mattered?
Biding time was not a luxury that they had. And as much as she hated it, the young summoner understood the necessity of what had to be done. “To be honest, I don’t even know what it is that I fear. Beyond… beyond the fact that I wield this wild and untamed magic, so much larger than myself.” With a sigh, she pulled herself to her feet. “Maybe knowing what gets to me is one step closer to overcoming it. Let’s do this… I don’t feel as though I am the type of person to attack, so I’m convinced you’ll be safe.”
Unfortunately, the thing about diving headfirst into the unknown was the danger of not knowing the odds. Trusting that Hadwin wasn’t out to hurt her, she anticipated that what she might see would be uncomfortable, but in a thought-provoking way. Perhaps if she had known what, at her core, petrified her, it would have been slightly more palatable. But she was not prepared--not mentally or emotionally--for what unfolded before her eyes.
The sunny-day vista of Stella D’Mare vanished, transforming into a dark and dead pit, where flora and fauna did not thrive. What was left of the trees were the essence of charcoal that would have crumbled at a touch. The ground was barren, nothing growing; nothing would ever grow again, so devastated was the soil. In the distance, fire--the fire that had taken everything--still raged, the sky red and orange and black with the flames that remained, along with thick smoke. There was no sign of Mollengard, towards the ocean; and no sign of D’Marians, in the ruins of their homes. Only a scattering of charred, lifeless bodies, Mollengardian and D’Marians indistinguishable in the gruesome deaths that they had shared.
But the fire… that was only the icing on the cake. It was not what had taken out Stella D’Mare; merely what had finished it off. The shoreline, once a picturesque beach with waxing and waning tides, had been consumed by water, and the rubble left in its wake suggested water damage so extensive that there was not a corner of the once lustrous city that was left standing, or even salvageable.
It was horrifying, to the very core… and yet, none of it was what shook Teselin the most. Nowhere near it. At the center of it all, as if having an out of body experience, Teselin saw herself, looking not so different than she did now, albeit the soot that coated her fingertips and smeared across her face. But it was her eyes… her dark, beseeching eyes, that made her heart pound with dread. For there was nothing in those coal-dark irises: no remorse, no care, nothing but bitter apathy at the disaster that surrounded her. The girl before her knelt next to a body, picking a bracelet off of a frightening familiar charred and shriveled wrist. A single shock of blonde hair, the only tress untouched (as of yet) by the fire that had ravaged the rest of the body, was the only sign that led to the conclusion that that body had once belonged to none other than Chara Rigas.
The other Teselin--the one with soulless eyes--tried the piece of jewelry on her own wrist, and, pleased with what she saw, walked away from the carnage, from the bodies and the lives that she had condemned.
“Stop!” No sooner did the real Teselin Kristeva let out a scream that a peal of thunder rolled, and the sky--which had been cloudless just moments ago--opened up. Even after she shook the vision, and her surroundings returned to normal, tears poured from her eyes, and she began to panic. “I did… I could do that. I could… become that…” The young summoner sobbed and shook her head, back and forth, wishing vehemently that she could deny it. “This… this was a mistake. A mistake…”
Without another word (or any sign of the sudden downpour letting up), Teselin fled the scene, and Hadwin, with it, to seek the solitude and safety of the room that Chara had allotted her. Even a gilded prison (for it had never been confirmed she wasn’t, at least, partially incarcerated) was preferable to standing out in the open, and destroying the world around her.
So Alster was aware, at least vaguely, of the situation at hand. She didn’t care how much he had exchanged with his cousin; all that mattered was that he had the details now, and that he knew the risk. “I’ve already spoken against it,” she sighed. “But I have little ground to stand on because I can’t think of any other options. Not even for the plan itself, with or without using Teselin… I am knight; but I wasn’t trained as a strategist. In a way, I suppose I cannot blame Chara for dismissing my suspicions when I have nothing else to offer…”
News of Vitali only served to further agitate the Atvanian warrior’s already boiling blood. “Bad off? Chara told the girl that he was fine; safe. Whether or not you made her aware of the necromancer’s condition, she is omitting truths to the point of lying…” Teselin deserved to know. She deserved to be aware that there was a chance her beloved brother might take a turn for the worst, or that finding him might not be as fruitful as she had anticipated, if he was, after all, rendered blind…
“Alster… I know you want to return to Stella D’Mare, against all odds. And as much as I want to see you again, I am sure that there is nothing that there is nothing I could possibly say to change your mind.” Elespeth sighed, relishing in the feeling of their fingers linked together. Contact that she longed for, stuck as she was in a place where she had no one. “But… you need to promise me something. Chara tried to turn the narrative against me; tried to convince me that I would also be willing to sacrifice the life of a young girl if it meant saving you. If it meant that she would die, instead… and I don’t want to have to make that decision, Alster.” She shook her head, her loose tresses hazelnut-brown cascading down her shoulders. She hadn’t had the energy or the care to tie it back in a braid, of late. “Don’t make me side with Chara, in deciding that this is the best option… can you promise me that? That you will not put yourself in danger?”
She held up her other hand, then, one that glinted with the tiny diamonds of the ring he had given her. A promise that he was not allowed to break. “Because I won’t wear this, if you ever find yourself inclined toward self-sacrifice… do you understand? I wear this because I am waiting for you. Because I believe that you will come back, and that we will have a life together. I wear this because of your promise to me. Do not put yourself in any more danger than returning here will inherently cause… please.” Elespeth bowed her head, then, fixing her slate-green eyes on the tips of their boots. “You know that you are all that I have left in this wicked world.”
However close they had become, and however much they trusted one another, there still appeared to be secrets between Elespeth and Alster--to the extent that she expected them. On her part, she had purposely refrained from filling him in on exactly how she fit into the plan to out Solveig, and to help sway the Forbanne to follow another; presumably, Haraldur. Did not tell him that she was foolhardy enough to challenge the Forbanne captain to a fight that she knew she could not win, for the mere sake of distracting her, while Hadwin, Atli, and Haraldur played their part in far more important (and, arguably, less dangerous) roles. In a way, she really had no moral high ground upon which to stand, demanding that Alster keep himself safe and free of any self-sacrificing plans… But the difference lay in their motives and desires. While she feared for the worst, facing Solveig, who fought too ruthlessly for her to have a edge, it wasn’t her desire to fall. No, she wanted to remain standing, to take part in what was to come… whereas Alster, as well as she knew him, was more inclined to willingly throw away his life for the greater good.
She hadn’t expected him to tell her, if that was what he’d planned; he knew better to. But she did gain a confession from the Rigas caster… and it was not one that she’d ever have anticipated. “You… you’re bonded to the Serpent?” The words passed her lips as an affirmation; to help her digest what he’d just told her, but otherwise, were devoid of judgment. “But… how? And what does that mean? Does it… can it control you, now?” There was so much remorse in his voice, in his face, that the Atvanian warrior saw fit to stop her questions then and there, regardless of whether she gave him an answer. What he was telling her… it was not easy for him to say. But the significance was not lost on Elespeth. Not when he trusted her not to turn away.
“It doesn’t matter--you were bonded to the Serpent before, were you not? And you were still you. Still the Alster that I came to know and love. You weren’t in a position to research other methods, not while you participated in a search for some lost kingdom…” She took a step forward and reached out to touch his face. “That you went to such an extent to preserve your life, so that you could keep your promise to me… That means more than I could ever ask for.”
While the sound of unleashing the Serpent on the already broken city yet again might have served as an alternative to using Teselin, the invoke such a plan was just as reckless. But at least Alster appeared to understand that; at least, she hoped that he did, and that the suggested alternative had only been yet another farfetched idea to illustrate that they did have options. “If you’re stronger, and if you don’t think that returning to Stella D’Mare will put you in any immediate danger… then come back. Help Chara to see that what she is planning is ludicrous… she won’t listen to me. But in her heart, I know that she has feelings for you that she’ll never really quell. Because you never really stop loving someone; you merely find other ways to occupy your heart…”
Maybe it wouldn’t make a difference; Chara was stubborn, and even Lilica, who maybe meant more to her than anyone else, could seldom sway her to come to agreement with terms that were not originally her own. But the Atvanian warrior did sense something of a change in Alster; whether it was due to the reinstatement of his bond with the Serpent, or merely a sign that being away from Stella D’Mare had awarded him the opportunity to grow, he seemed more reassured of himself. More confident that he could make a difference. The last time Elespeth had seen that glint in his eyes, his magic had been out of control, seeking release, even if it killed him. She’d been forced to absorb that magic into herself, and even then, it had only taken the edge off for the afflicted Rigas caster… but it had to have been different, this time. Like he’d mentioned, binding himself to the Serpent again had eradicated Marianna’s disease. He had to have been well; different, but… well. “Come as soon as you can,” she begged. “I will be in touch with Vega; Chara has given her a resonance stone for direct communication. We will relay your message to her, and have her send aid when the time is right. Just… keep your wits about you.” She pressed her lips into a firm line. “Mollengard has been suspicious quiet, for too long. It makes me wonder what they know--what they are planning--that they do not want to let on…”
Sadly, there was no more time to elaborate. Elespeth didn’t even have a chance to tell him goodbye, before coming to, at a rather obnoxious awakening. The Atvanian warrior groaned; by the smell in the air, of damp earth and humidity, it must have been raining. Odd, given that there hadn’t been a single cloud in the sky, the day before…
Someone was heckling her to get up. Squinting against the daylight, she made out the face of a rather impatient looking Rigas guard. She couldn’t help but wonder if it was one of the ones that Chara had sent to keep an eye on her… it certainly wouldn’t have struck her as odd. “Chara? What does she want?” She didn’t expect an answer, but rather thought to herself out loud. Of course, there were numerous reasons as to why Chara would be summoning her, even if it were something as simple as wanting to take out her frustrations on a target that she deemed ‘safe’. Elespeth was worth no more to her than the dirt beneath her feet. When she realized that the guard was not leaving without her, she let out a frustrated sigh. “Fine. Give me a moment.”
Pulling on her boots, and tying her hair back into a braid, Elespeth sheathed her enchanted sword across her back before stepping out into the damp morning. It was out of habit, more than anything, considering that the city was little more than a cesspit of danger with Mollengard present, but it almost made a statement: that a warrior was always prepared for battle. Even if it was a verbal battle, against Chara Rigas.
The flammable Rigas head was waiting for her back at her villa, standing rigid and agitated, awaiting her visitor. No sooner did Elespeth cross the threshold that Chara slammed the door, and unleashed her fury. In the face of her anger, the Atvanian warrior only put up a bored front. She was tired of engaging Chara in battles of vitriol, and refused to feed into it, today. If she wanted to lose her head, then she could lose it all by herself. “Has Cyprian’s attempts to conspire against you driven you to paranoia, Chara?” She asked, and the question was itself not entirely rhetorical. Some days, she did wonder… “I’ve not seen Teselin since yesterday’s meeting. I went to find a place to pitch a tent after I left, and remained there for the evening. I encourage you to go and check that story with the people who you sent to watch me.” She furrowed her eyebrows, her mouth a thin, unimpressed mind. “And I do not possess the magic to telepathically communicate with her. So you can throw your theories out the window. Maybe they can keep your good grace company, since you decided to discard that the moment you lied to and withheld from the poor girl.”
However… she might have been right about something. It wasn’t like Stella D’Mare to be susceptible to torrential rain storms; not since Teselin had arrived, at least. She furrowed her eyebrows. “I’ve said nothing to her. But… I may know who is responsible.” Since it had been she who’d asked for Hadwin’s help, she had the decency to refrain from dropping his name, just yet. But oh, would she be having words with the wolf-man, the next time she saw him…
Without a word, Elespeth turned from Chara and opened the door, stepping out of the garish villa. When the Rigas caster demanded to know where she was going, she simply said, “To find Teselin; to see if I can get her to explain what happened. Come with me, if you don’t deem me trustworthy.”
Since Chara had mentioned the girl was holed up in her room, inclined to talk to no one and in no way eager to leave, that was where the former knight headed. But when the arrived, and opened the door (she did not respond to the knocks and their requests to enter), the two of them found the room empty. Elespeth hadn’t been worried, before, but now she began to feel the aggravating pangs of building panic. “Where is she?” She demanded, to one of the guards who had been assigned to loosely keep an eye on the young summoner. Since proving her loyalty, however, it had become rather inconsistent.
“She left hours ago,” the man explained, shrugging. “Why? I’d thought we’d decided she was low priority in terms of keeping surveillance. She wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“And in what direction did she go?” She asked, ignoring the flat and unimpressed look from the guard who clearly did not enjoy answering to someone who was not a Rigas.
It was only when Chara demanded the response that he complied. It made Elespeth snort. “I don’t know. She headed east, out those doors.” He pointed with an arm. “I wonder if she’s lost, though. The only thing she’ll find that way is the prison and the dungeons. Can’t imagine that’s where she’d be going.”
Elespeth froze as soon as he said that. She remembered what had happened to the girl, when Chara had first locked her in those cells. Cells that dampened magical ability--and, in Teselin’s unique case, left her very, very ill.
“Damnit,” she hissed, and didn’t even look to see if Chara followed as she ran in the direction the guard had pointed. She didn’t stop until she’d reached the dungeons, but was halted by the sentries who blocked the entrance with spears. “Did you let a girl into these walls, today?” She demanded. “Small, dark hair? Is she here?”
“Now, what concern is it of yours, who is here and who is not?” One of the two sentries challenged. “I don’t believe you are privy to that information.”
Against her better judgement, Elespeth let out a growl of frustration. “I have had it with this pretentious Rigas bullshit.” She seethed, and jabbed a finger over her shoulder at Chara. “Fine, then tell her. Whatever it takes to get you to stop fucking around. This is urgent.”
Taken aback by the warrior’s outburst (Elespeth wasn’t exactly know for her use of profanity), the sentry’s exchanged glances, and turned to Chara. “A girl did come by an hour ago. She seemed upset; begged us to let her in because she needed ‘somewhere safe’. Thought it was kind of a weird place to seek shelter from this rain, but… she seemed desperate.” The other sentry, who had not yet spoken, explained. “She hasn’t left, if you’d like to go and find her.”
As soon as they parted to make way for the two women, Elespeth hurried down the spiraling steps to the dank corridors of the dungeons. After the city had been devastated, this place as relatively empty, as prisoners had not been a priority during the crisis with the Serpent. But, sure enough, a small form was hunched over in one of the cells without a window, knees pulled to her chest. Panic and relief collided when the warrior’s eyes fell upon the diminutive form of the young summoner. She was withdrawn, but at least she was alive. “Teselin.” The air rushed out of Elespeth’s lungs, relief flooding her limbs. She approached the girl, albeit cautiously. With a gentle voice, she said, “You can’t be feeling too well, here… what happened?”
The young summoner didn’t look up from her spot on the cold floor. Her eyes were transfixed on the filthy stone, as if trying to focus on something mundane to keep her mind off of whatever it was that plagued her. To Elespeth’s question, she merely answered, “It’s safe here. I need to be here.”
“What do you mean? You aren’t a prisoner, Teselin.” The warrior told the girl, and couldn’t care less for whether or not Chara would agree. “You’re just as safe in your own room… why did you come here?”
“Because I saw her.” When the girl looked up, her dark eyes were red-rimmed and haunted, still swimming with the visions that Hadwin had shown her. “And I don’t… I can’t…”
“Saw who? Who did you see, Teselin?”
“Me. I saw me--the person that I can become. That I might become. All because of what I can do.” Those haunted eyes welled with tears. Teselin pressed her face into her knees to sob quietly. “Everything was decimated and… burning. And everyone was dead, and I didn’t care… I didn’t care…!” Her skinny shoulders shook uncontrollably with every sob. “I never should have come… I’m sorry. I don’t want to put anyone in danger…”
Kneeling next to her, the Atvanian warrior leaned in close, but did not touch her. She was too high-strung. “Did Hadwin show you something?” Her voice was even, in spite of the rage she felt sizzling beneath her skin. That son of a bitch… “Whatever it was, it isn’t real. You know that he plays on people’s irrational fears. It can only affect you to the extent that you choose to believe it. Whatever you saw, it was not your fate, Teselin. Shutting yourself away, here, just to dampen your power… you know that won’t solve anything. It’s only going to make you very sick.”
Slowly, Elespeth extended a hand to the girl’s shoulder. Beneath the cloth of her tunic, her damp skin burned with fever. Even an hour in this place was wreaking havoc on her body… They needed to get her out, before it became serious. “Please come with us. We’ll take you back to your room, get you something to eat, and if what you saw truly makes you frightened for the future… then let’s see if we can circumvent that. We won’t know until we try.”
Teselin was hesitant. And it took a good deal more convincing, between herself and Chara, before the young woman agreed to leave. Putting an arm around her shoulders, Elespeth led her out, and the two of them escorted back to her room. While pale and feverish, the young summoner appeared to otherwise be alright, and they had faith that she would bounce back quickly, now that her powers were not being repressed. The rain eventually slowed to a drizzle, as well, indicating that whatever energy Teselin had inadvertently drawn to the city was finally letting up.
Chara had sent for a meal for the young girl, who looked thinner and weaker in her distressed state. But when it arrived, she didn’t appear to have much of an appetite, and neither of them were inclined to force her to eat anything. “Hadwin said it was possible.” Teselin confided at last, her listless form hunched as she sat on her bed. “That I can become that person. It’s possible… I thought I was afraid of destroying everything in my path. It turns out that I’m afraid of not caring about the havoc I could wreak. It’s so easy not to care…”
“Maybe. But the way I see it, it’s highly unlikely.” Elespeth reassured her, standing some feet away to give her space. “I don’t know you well, Teselin. But I do know that you have this uncannily unshakable positive disposition. Look at what has happened to you, thus far; that village, that would’ve sooner seen you dead, everything up until now that has brought you here… and yet, none of it has turned you bitter. If I had to pass judgement, I would say that you are in danger of caring too much for people who care little for you.” A not-so-veiled slight on Chara, but the former knight was quick to change the subject before she could call her on it.
“When my fiance, Alster, returns to this city… I think that you should talk to him. You might find that the both of you have a lot in common.” She flashed a ghost of a smile. “He also happens to care far too intensely, and struggles… has struggles with unparalleled power. He’s suffered for it, and learned from it. It would be good for the both of you to exchange stories, I think. And… if your heart truly is set on this plan to summon a tidal wave to defeat Mollengard’s fleets, then perhaps he can even help you navigate your powers in such a way that it doesn’t put you--or anyone else--in danger. Does all of that sound reasonable?”
This seemed to placate the young summoner at last. She nodded, and her shoulders seemed to relax just a little. She still did not touch her food. “Is he to be here, soon?”
“I should hope so.” Elespeth sighed, “For all of our sakes. If you’ll excuse me…” Realizing there was little more that she could do, now that Teselin was safe (or, as safe as she could be in Chara’s care), the Atvanian warrior took her leave, to go in search of the wolf man who had implanted those nightmares in the young summoner’s head. Cognizant of what he’d done, he was probably already expecting her. Perhaps that was a good thing; for he’d damned well better be prepared to explain himself. Nothing could prepare him for the wrath of a trained Atvanian knight.
Elusive though he was, by nature, she found him smoking his pipe not so far from where she had pitched her tent. “You.” She growled, gripping the hilt of her sword as she invaded his space. Her eyes gleamed with anger when they met his, no fear to be found, right now. “You have five minutes to tell me what you did to that girl. What you made he see, and why. Because I just found her holed away in the goddamned dungeons, desperate to put a damper on her powers. Do you know what that could have done to her, had she stayed for too long?” Elespeth demanded, showing her teeth. “I asked you to talk to her; not to fucking break her!”
Chara's slippered feet dug so hard into the tile that they looked ready to grind it into powder. But at least her frustrations were guided downward. If anything was going to take damage in her flare-up, it was the ground on which she tread. Though she still kept the image of a fire-disfigured Elespeth close to her breast--and it calmed her, somewhat. "Are we still on about this, Elespeth? My oh-so-manipulative powers of persuasion?" She wiggled her fingers in the air, for emphasis. "Lying without a care to a poor, sweet, innocent girl. What a monster I am. Surely, I must hang for this offense. Do take the position of Rigas head in my place, Elespeth. Obviously I am too morally corrupt to lead my people, so I implore you," a derisive smirk overtook her blood-toned lips, "show me how it's done."
After sliding on a long coat more equipped for the rain, along with a hood and a complementary match of fur-lined boots (because like hell was she going to go traipsing about in a rainstorm unprotected and slovenly in dress; her image was important), she was serious in her claim that Elespeth take on the position of figurehead. She stood aside while the Atvanian warrior tried, and failed, to communicate with the Rigas guards. It amused her to say nothing and to watch the other woman flounce about, sputtering her frustrations--until she so magnanimously came to Elespeth's aid and commanded them to share what they knew about Teselin's whereabouts. They, of course, obliged her, and when they trekked through the slimy, waterlogged pathways to the dungeons, Chara, again, took an auxiliary role, whilst Elespeth attempted to gain the appropriate answers to her inquiries. At her uncharacteristic outburst, Chara stepped forward, raising an eyebrow at the ex-knight and clucking pitiably in her throat.
"They are under orders to answer to no one but me, Elespeth." She rolled her eyes. "It is not 'pretentious Rigas bullshit,' as you say. Would you want your soldiers passing along delicate information to any commoner who asks? You may be a hero of Stella D'Mare, but you do not have the privilege to speak to my own as if you're their superior. Now stand aside. I've indulged you enough."
When the guards gained them entry to the dungeons, Chara drew her palm outward and cast a spell of etherea, lighting their way down the narrow, uneven stone-cut steps. It didn't take them long to locate the distraught girl, who'd returned to the cell where she'd spent her first night. The same cell where Vitali, before her, had enjoyed some Rigas hospitality. In nearing the girl, they could tell that she'd been sobbing. Her slight form was huddled into a tight ball, shivering from a cold that was more internal than temporal. Taking the keys that the guards had given her, Chara opened the cell doors, and waved Elespeth inside.
"By all means, since I am such a horrible person and regard no one's interests but my own, you talk to her. Heavens forbid if I say something wrong and am accused relentlessly for it."
Once again relinquishing her responsibilities to Elespeth (mostly out of spite, but in part because the warrior, for whatever reason, was far more emotionally invested in Teselin than she, and thus was a better candidate for soothing the girl), Chara propped herself against the wall of the cell, and let their conversation unfold naturally, without interference. While she said nothing, for now, she noted the sorry state to which Teselin had been driven, and wondered what had happened. And as the shivering girl had expressed herself in more nonsense garble, said garble, when Elespeth pressed to elaborate, unveiled its truth. She was afraid of herself. Of her power, and how it would shape her as a person, with continued use. And though she tried to shut away the likeness, the similarities were too numerous for her to ignore. She saw, in this girl, a composite of Alster and...Lilica. Just as Elespeth had pointed out in her diatribe from the other day, and which she already had observed.
But despite the similarities, she was not Alster or Lilica. The people she lost. The people who hurt her. She had little room in her heart to welcome one of such close ties: by blood of Vitali, who was by blood of Lilica, and by her spirit, which was kindred to Alster. No, she'd rather do the hurting, than vice versa. And maybe it was her way of punishing them, that she regarded Teselin as little more than an opportunity. Or maybe because the sooner she treated this girl as a person, she'd lose sight of the larger goal. Saving Stella D'Mare was paramount. All other factors were of lesser importance.
Why, then, did basking in this forlorn girl's presence jolt her with...remorse?
Please...help me, Chara, Alster had said, with tears streaming down his face. Days before he awakened the Serpent.
I don't have time for you. She had turned and walked away. Always, since then, she set her sights on what she deemed were loftier goals. Important goals. To rule had been her dream. To lead, and remain surrounded by admirers who feared and respected her. So then why was she so frequently unhappy? Why did that image of Alster still haunt her? And why were her nightmares always of Lilica, pinned beneath her feet?
You want to hurt people before they hurt you, without realizing...that you hurt them, first. And you continue to hurt them, because it's easier than forgiveness. Because it's easier for you to to be self-righteous in your misery, than happy in your wrongness.
Chara remained in a contemplative silence during the transfer of Teselin from the dungeons to her far cozier, drier abode. By then, the rain had emptied from the sky, but ominous, low-hanging clouds lingered, as though in equal contemplation. To continue raining, or to stop? ...Could she ever stop raining? Would she allow that of herself?
Once they entered the small apartment at Main House, Chara fetched her a clean outfit, to replace her sopping-wet clothes, and sent a guard to bring her dinner. While the young woman did change, it was no small feat convincing her to eat more than two bites of food. More than accustomed to Lilica's similar deficit of appetite, she didn't press the matter.
"Hadwin," she repeated the name that Teselin uttered. A name that Elespeth had mentioned before, but in vague terms. He was Mollengard's defected spy, who'd been recruited to mount the offensive on Captain Solveig, in hopes of securing Forbanne soldiers for their retreat. Beyond that, she knew nothing else about him, nor had she even known his appearance. "Who is this man? What is the extent of his...abilities? And why is he tampering with your mind, Teselin?" She crossed her arms over her chest. "He is no defected spy, if he is so actively looking to infect you with horrendous visions. This has been his ploy all along. To destroy you from the inside, and render you catatonic. We're going to need more security. For your safety," she added, with a gentle tone that took even her aback. "And we are going to find this man. I want him apprehended, and brought to me. He will answer for what he has done. Elespeth--" But she was already on her way out, presumably in search for the man, himself. "You know what he looks like!" She called after her retreating form. "Do not let him escape! ...Follow her," she motioned to the other two guards in the room. "I've no doubt she will lead you right to him."
When they nodded their compliance and dashed out of the apartment in pursuit, leaving Chara and Teselin alone, she blew out a sigh and invited herself to the chair beside the young girl's bed. "I agree with Elespeth," she almost blanched at her wording, but continued, nonetheless. "You should talk to Alster. I lied about him, by the way," she admitted, staring down at her limp hands, which still bore light scaring from Cyprian's burns. "He did not say that you would fail. He was merely expressing concerns for you, because he has been in your position, before, and understands the burden of carrying such a hefty power at a young age--and being defined by said power. He is infuriatingly kind; the two of you would get on well."
"And there is Lilica..." She began to squeeze her hands together. "Also burdened by a magic which acts as poison to her. She is still trying to find her way; perhaps the two of you could help each other. I think she may like the company. A sibling, of a sort, who is helpful, and is not looking to exploit her. Last in the group that is with your brother...is Tivia." She leaned back on her chair and stared at the ceiling. "She is my kin. A star seer, and a skilled war-mage, who has seen her own hardships. She, for reasons beyond me, has taken an interest in your brother. She has appealed to me for his freedom, when I had him incarcerated. I heard tell that they saved each other's lives. So," she separated the vising pressure of her hands, "that is why I know that your brother is with favorable company." Even if he has been compromised. But she chose not to share that fact, because she did not know the details of his injury, because she did not wish to cause the frightened woman further upset...and because she did not yet want to lose her summoner. Though, wasn't she losing her now, to something worse?
After Teselin's flight (fight, flight, or freeze; it was all normal to him), Hadwin wandered from the lake, not even bothering to look for cover from the rain. He perambulated with all the deliberateness of a stroll in Spring. Or, in his case, of a man walking into a tavern, searching for a drink. Only, there were no taverns in run-down Stella D'Mare, and he was not about to go scavenging in the Mollengardian camps for extra swill. Finishing off the last of his whisky, despite the rainfall watering down its remains, he finally settled in the wooded patch near Elespeth's tent. Not only did it provide the best outside cover from the rain, but he predicted the Atvanian warrior would head there, to seek answers out of his miscreant activities.
"All in a day's work," he muttered aloud. Sliding against the base of the tree to sit, he discarded his flask and rummaged his pockets for his tinderbox and pipe.
"I'll say," a voice answered him. "You're quite skilled at fucking up."
"Mmm...still here?" He stuffed his pipe full with sweet and spicy-smelling herbs, but kept his head twisted away from the image that wafted along in his periphery.
"Of course, Haddykins." He could hear her smile, which dripped with saccharine falsities. Ignoring her, he went to work striking flint against the steel, failing to generate a spark in the too-damp air. "You really think you'll succeed in lighting that in the rain?"
"Like you said, I'm a fuck-up. But I'm a persistent one." After the fifth attempt, he drew a small flame. With his pipe now alight, he stuck the prize into his waiting mouth. "If you remember, you taught me how to strike in wind, in rain, and in the devil's asshole. Though I never encountered the latter...so who knows if I've truly got what it takes."
"No...you don't."
"Always so encouraging, Mam."
"Don't call me that."
"Fiona," he stressed, puffing a smoke cloud in her direction. "Don't you have things to do? Like being dead?"
"Much more entertaining to hassle you. I like to keep a tally of all your failures. You know, so you can keep improving yourself."
"So what is it this time?"
"You need to stop giving a shit." Her opalescent image shivered in the shavings of rain. "Is that girl your new project? You know you're going to drive her to madness like you did your sister."
"I didn't drive her to madness."
"Still won't admit it, hm? How will you ever shed away your fears if you can't even accept your darkness? If you can't be the monster that you are? You're too preoccupied with caring. Teselin. Atli. Airlea. Even that warrior that's fast approaching you."
"What can I say?" He offered a weak laugh. "I'm a fatalist. I'll take what's coming to me. Whatever that will be."
Not a half a minute later, Elespeth barreled her way into the wood, like a bear about ready to maul her prey--and he happened to be in her line of sight.
"Aah. Friendless." He waved to her with his pipe hand, presenting a mellow smile. "Was having a feeling that you'd show. Come join us." Turning his head to the side, he noticed that the apparition of Fiona had vanished. "Well, she's gone now. It's just me."
At her demand for an explanation, he casually puffed on his pipe, as though nothing she said had fazed him. For all her rage, he didn't even move from his spot, having drifted into a light, drug-addled stupor. "Well, you see, El--can I call you El? Or can only your fiance call you that? Well you see," he took another puff and released the smoke in small, faltering spurts, "that's what I do. I break people. Doesn't matter if my intentions are good. Doesn't matter at all. So what good is explaining myself? You'll vilify me all the same. But I will give you this." He wiped the excess water that was dripping from his hair and rolling down his face. "I was trying to help with her fear, in relation to her magic. She ran, and I let her go. I'd have made it worse. Nobody wants nightmares chasing them."
Sticking his pipe into his mouth, he slowly pushed himself to his feet. "Well...my time is up anyway. They've come for me." He nodded behind him, at the two Rigas guards who emerged from the wood. Shoots of white-hot etherea erupted in their hands, which they aimed in his direction.
"You dare to struggle, and we will kill you!" One guard demanded.
"Come quietly, and--
"--you won't hurt me. I know the procedure, gentlemen. I've been arrested plenty of times before." He turned around, lifting his empty hands in the air. But for his pipe, which was firmly lodged in his mouth, he carried nothing else with him. That did not, of course, include his lock-picking tools, which were hidden in his boot--along with a dagger and his brass knuckles. "Are you going to take me to your cushy dungeons? Curious to know what that'll do to me." He sidled close to Elespeth, and gave her a one-sided smirk (as the other side of his mouth was still secured around his pipe). "Care to do the honors? Man-handle me all you'd like. I know you want to hurt me bad."
Together, the procession of guards, who wound Hadwin's hands behind his back, affixed him with a blindfold, removed his pipe, and kept out of his eye-range, for extra safety measures, marched across the estate, and entered Main House, where Chara was still in Teselin's apartment, overseeing the health of the recovering girl. They knocked on the door, and all but shoved the wolf-man through the threshold.
"This is your culprit, Lady Chara," one of the guards announced. "We saw him conversing with the warrior in the wood."
"What are you, mad?" She hissed. "You brought him here?"
"Yeah, guards, what are you doing?!" The prisoner in question retorted. "Teselin's in the other room. Can't have me here at all, can we?"
She ushered them out the door. "We're taking him to the dungeons. Isolate him from his accursed power."
"I have a blindfold. I think you've contained it."
"Quiet," one guard growled. "Do you ever stop talking? We should have gagged you, too!"
"Is that a come-on?" He clicked his tongue suggestively. "Because I'm into it."
"One more word and I will gouge out your eyes," Chara spat, as she followed them all out the door and to the dungeons.
A look of confusion crossed Elespeth’s face when the wolf-man mentioned that he had been having a conversation… but with whom? Just to ascertain they were alone, and that no one would intervene, she made a quick survey of the area. Nobody was in sight; nobody was even retreating. “Have you lost your own mind, along with all of the people you’ve driven to madness?” She asked, though didn’t really expect an answer. “There is nobody here, you fool. Don’t think me to be such an idiot as to deflect my concerns…”
It was difficult to discern whether the shape-shifter even showed remorse for what he had done to the young, innocent summoner. Elespeth certainly did, since it had been she who’d approached him to speak with the girl… But how could someone who was so assured in his destructive capabilities have thought that he could help someone like Teselin? It didn’t make any sense. “All I asked was that you speak with her. I know you can be persuasive; but to use the same ability on someone like Teselin as you did on Cyprian… even if you thought you could help her, how could you possibly think you’d be successful? She is hardly more than a child, Hadwin! Did you really think that she would be able to tolerate being exposed to her darkest fears?”
She hadn’t realized she’d been followed by Chara’s guards until Hadwin pointed them out. While startled, Elespeth couldn’t really disagree with Chara’s desire to have the wolf-man arrested. And for that reason, she did not urge them to back off. Not when Hadwin was willing to go quietly. “Moron. You wanted to be arrested?” Part of her wasn’t surprised. After all, he chased danger and adrenaline as if they were his only means of entertainment. “No, you’re wrong. I don’t want to hurt you. But I do want you to pay for what you did to that girl.”
Along with the guards, Teselin escorted Hadwin by the shoulder, following the head guard who, oddly, seemed to be leading them back to Chara… which was a decidedly foolhardy move. Yes, she wanted Hadwin to be punished for his reckless mishap, but she didn’t want him to die; and Chara was not someone who would hesitate to inflict harm, particularly on the person who had rendered her prize-weapon temporarily incapacitated with her own fears.
Not so much as looking up at Elespeth’s departure, Teselin remained static on her bed, arms wrapped around her middle in a mild and fruitless effort to calm herself. While they might have convinced her to remove herself from the dungeons and to spare her health, their words had done little to assuage the paranoia that she was a disaster just waiting to happen; just biding its time…
Elespeth might have been right. Fear was often irrational, and what Hadwin had shown her wasn’t a premonition… but it was still a possibility. One that ran through her bloodline and threatened each and every member of the Kristeva family; one that her own brother, Vitali, barely managed to keep in check. That deadly apathy that accompanied the possession of great power, that acceptance that destruction was inevitable, and the most logical solution was to use it to one’s advantage. In fact, she was well aware that many people saw her brother as a lost cause; amoral and uncaring, self-serving to a destructive point. And he was, sometimes… but not always. Somehow, in spite of it all, he hadn’t lost himself. Which was precisely why she needed to find him; she needed to know how he kept it in check. Especially now, that she was so acutely aware of the risk that she, herself, faced…
“You’ve mentioned him, before… this Alster. The one who saved your city.” She spoke softly, but looked up at Chara, in acknowledgement. For the first time since they’d found her, curled up and withdrawn in the dungeon, an undertone of hope warmed her small voice. “I would be happy to have the opportunity to speak with him...I’ve wanted to, since you told me about him. Like my brother, he sounds like someone who have overcome great odds, and has lived to tell about it.”
Hearing about the others in her brother’s company, a mage named Lilica, and one of Chara’s kin called Tivia, the young summoner did find herself feeling reassured. So it was true, that Vitali was in good company… among people--or, at least, one person--who cared for him, in a sense. Beyond her, she wasn’t sure the necromancer had ever had that in his life: someone to watch his back, to look out for him because they genuinely cared. And… “...you said they saved each other’s lives? Vitali and your kin, Tivia?” Genuine surprise lit up her coal-dark eyes. “Vitali… for as long as I’ve known him, he has never been known to go so far as to save a life. Just to resurrect them. It sounds as though your kin has appealed to the side of him that I’ve always known to be there… I hope that I might eventually get to meet her, as well.” She mentioned. “To thank her. If she is the reason that Vitali still walks among the living…”
The young summoner fell silent as she took into consideration Chara’s confession, however. That she had lied to her about what Alster had said… And had it come as a surprise to her, she might have been upset and hurt by the betrayal. But the fact was, that while Teselin Kristeva was young and naive in a multitude of ways, Chara hadn’t exactly been hiding the fact that she wanted to make use of her powers, as soon as she had offered them. I can’t be used, if I am offering my help, she had once told Hadwin, when he had warned her of such. So she had offered herself up as a resource in this impending battle; because, genuinely, she wanted to help, but also to buffer the disappointment that beyond her erratic and dangerous abilities as a summoner, she was worthless to these people, to this place. She couldn’t blame Chara for her dishonesty, when she had anticipated it, all along.
“I know why you felt you had to lie to me,” she said simply, still shivering from the lingering effects of her fever which had yet to fade completely. “You’ve put a lot of stock into me, with this plan. It needs to be successful, and in order for that to happen, I have to be willing to cooperate. But… you don’t need to lie, to have my loyalty. You took me in and offered me refuge, allowed me to stay, even while your city is in a state of crisis. I want to help, to repay that kindness. I’m just…” The young woman hugged herself tighter, plagued by the visions that still danced in her mind’s eye. The decimated city, the dead bodies… and the girl who stepped over them like they were little more than rubble. “I’m afraid that it will all go terribly wrong.; that I will go terribly wrong…” And then, nothing will save me.
Would she be ready in time, when they needed her? And even if her power could amass to such an extent, would she have the capability of reigning it in, before it destroyed not only Mollengard’s fleets, but the rest of the city, as well?
She wouldn’t know until the time came. And now, that seed of fear that Hadwin had awoken in her had time to grow…
“It does sound as though I have a lot on common, with the party in my brother’s company.” She said with a flat, humorless smile. “It’s possible I did come to the right place, after all…”
The sound of heavy footfalls--multiple footfalls--interrupted Teselin’s thoughts, and she looked up to a knock at the door. When Chara left the room to answer the door, the young summoner’s jaw dropped at the sound of Hadwin’s voice, accompanied--or, rather, apprehended, as it sounded, by Elespeth and a pair of guards. “Hadwin?” She breathed, by the voices faded abruptly, followed by the sound of the door closing, and the footsteps hurriedly receding.
It only took a half a moment for the young summoner to decide to follow them; and she had a good idea as to where they would be taking him.
“You don’t need to use so much force,” Elespeth commented at the guards who were handling Hadwin, perhaps more harshly than he deserved. “He’s cooperating; hell, he probably wants to be here. But he needs to be useful for later on… at least keep him intact.”
While it was odd that the shape-shifter chose to put up no resistance, he undoubtedly realized that he wouldn’t be there for long. Not when part of their master plan depended on him and his wretched, uncanny abilities. Even Chara, who would sooner turn his wolf-hide into a new coat than entertain his lunacy, had to have realized that. Nonetheless… a few days, maybe a week, here, would smarten him up enough that he wouldn’t dare to pull a stunt such as he had on Teselin, anytime soon. “Honestly, I did not expect Teselin to know better. Not since she agreed to a plan that could likely have her killed,” she mentioned, taking a step toward the bars as they locked him inside. “But you… you should have known better than to put her through what you did. How in all creation could you have convinced yourself that psychologically scarring that girl would be of any help to her?”
Of course, her vitriol, along with Chara’s (which was far nastier, and more colorful) seemed to roll off the wolf-man’s back like an oil slick. It was likely nothing he hadn’t heard before, and he had obviously seen much worse. And that made their diatribe all the less satisfying… But it was another voice that stole everyone’s attention.
“It isn’t his fault… not really.” Teselin, standing some feet away, arms still wrapped around her middle, was looking on at the incarcerated shape-shifter with remorse in her wide eyes. “I asked him to help me. I gave him my permission.”
Muffling a curse word on the sigh that whoosed from her lungs, it was all Elespeth could do not to throw the foolish girl over her shoulder and lock her back in her own apartment. What the hell would it take to keep her from wandering into this dank cesspit of misery, that could sap her health from her, one heartbeat at a time. “Teselin, you shouldn’t be here.” Her voice was kind, but firm. Perhaps that was what she needed: someone older, an authority figure, to make that call. “We have this under control. Go back to your room and eat something… you still need to recover from your brief stay, here, earlier.”
“Hadwin isn’t at fault for anything. If you’ve taken him here because of what happened to me, then you are in the wrong.” Closing in on the small group, she dared to approach the bars of the cell, and leveled the wolf-man with a sympathetic gaze. “Unless… you want to be here?” Her question echoed off of the otherwise empty walls, and she closed her fingers around the bars. “I understand… I wanted to be here, too. Were it not for the fact that suppressing my magic harms me, I might still be. I envy you that you get a reprieve… but please don’t stay here for long. I…” She bit her lower lip. “I’m sorry I ran away. I was so frightened… it didn’t occur to me that you could help me navigate what I saw. And… thank you. For trying to help me.”
The ruthless clutches of winter had finally begun to let up in the mountainous kingdom of Eyraille, spurring preparations for the Festival of Equinox to go into full swing. Since returning from their brief getaway in the mountains, where Haraldur and Vega finally found themselves on the same page, with no more secrets between them (to Vega’s knowledge, at least), the Skyknight Commander kept her mind from the anxiety surrounding how she would inform her brother of her pregnancy. By now, some time had passed since she had made the discovery of the life she was carrying inside her, but her body had yet to show it. Haraldur tried in vain to reassure her that Caris had bigger things to worry about, aside from his sister’s unexpected pregnancy, but she knew the mercenary well enough to be aware that deep down, he, too, was concerned for the day that she could no longer hide it from her brother and her kingdom.
So committing herself to spearheading plans for a silly, albeit traditional and heartwarming festival that her kingdom had celebrated for years was the perfect remedy to keeping her anxieties at bay. It was so much easier to worry about festivities, and what entertainment they would organize, what decor the surrounding villages would see, and what food would be served on the feast at Equinox eve; these were problems that had definite solutions--and none of which would upset her hot-headed and temperamental brother.
She had even managed to finally convince Haraldur to play a part in helping out, much to the mercenary’s chagrin. Non-participation was not an option, however, and with the threat hovering over him that Caris would otherwise have him dress like a clown during festivities, he decided his cooperation was the lesser of the two evils.
“I will not have the fire acrobats wreak havoc with their reckless acts, this year.” The young king mused, one afternoon, while he and his sister deliberated the possible entertainers. “The last thing we need is another vendor’s food stall to go up in flames because of their negligence.”
“Now, Caris, you realize that that was no fault of theirs. That vendor had been warned about setting up his booth too close to the main stage.” Vega, playing the devil’s advocate, pointed out. “The real problem was an overcrowding of the stalls. We need to allot more room for it, this year; expand the festival beyond the village, and towards the farmlands. It never stops growing, but Eyraille certainly isn’t getting any bigger.”
“Your Majesty.” The two siblings were interrupted by a guard at the door. He bowed deeply before entering. “A band of travelers requests entry into the Capital. They say they bring news of plausible alliance with the kingdom of Ilandria; and two of them, a Clematis healer and a Sybaian healer…” He leveled his eyes on Vega. “They say that they are acquainted with you, Your Highness.”
A Clematis and Sybaian healer…
Vega dropped the quill from her hand and stood. “Allow them access at once.”
“Excuse me, Vega, but I don’t believe you are to make that call.” The young king challenged, feeling his role being stepped on. “What makes you so sure they are friends? We cannot afford to put ourselves in more danger.”
“I know them, Caris. There is only one Sybaian and one Clematis healer who I’ve ever seen work together. Trust me on this.”
Before her brother could reply, the Skyknight commander raced out of the council chamber, and left the palace entirely, making for the entrance to the capital. She ran until she reached it, guarded by a handful of sentries, who stepped aside at her arrival. Out of breath and sweating from the effort it took to sprint from the palace to where she now stood, Vega took in the small band of travelers, who, behind them and their horses, carted a caravan. None of them struck her as familiar, save for the two faces that she had expected to see. She let out a sigh, her breath lightly misting on the cool air in front of her. “Elias… Daphni.” She greeted the two warmly. “It is wonderful to see you again. But… what brings you to Eyraille, at a time like this?”
“It is… rather a long story. But, in short, we have come from Ilandria. And I believe you would be interested in hearing their agreement to a potential alliance, at least long enough to band together as a front to Mollengard. Where it goes beyond that is entirely up to your kingdom and theirs.” Pausing, she indicated the the others, and the caravan over her shoulder. “Might we stay in Eyraille, for the time being? This is… Elias’s family. Whom I beseech you also hear out. It has been a while, but trust me when I say that this is to everyone’s benefit.”
Although Hadwin had ceased talking, it was not because of Chara's ridiculous threats. His ears had picked up the delicate shufflings of someone in the next room, who was listening. Teselin. He said not another word as the guards kicked him out the apartment with enough force that he would stumble. And with the blindfold wound tightly around his head, which applied a pressure on his eyes to induce purple spots and a bothersome ache, he was more likely to trip over indentations in the floor and the unlevel planing of outside. Traversing the stairs was even worse; they practically threw him down the flight, and he collected a few scratches and bumps along the cutting stone edges. By the time he reached the dungeon landing, he acquired a welt on his head and knee, and ragged scratches down his arms--none of which were healing with any sense of immediacy.
"You're feisty sorts, aren't you?" Hadwin lifted the moratorium on his silence. "Need to show off your superiority, even to a lowly prisoner. Don't worry though," he turned his head toward the guard that was cutting circulation off his arm with his overlarge hand, "your rough-handling more than makes up for your lack of magic. And you're good enough. You really are. You're too hard on yourself, you know."
The guard's grip loosened.
"See...I don't need eyes to see your fears. So gouging will be unnecessary, but thank you for exploring these options with me."
The slighted guard threw open his cell, rammed him against the wall with enough force to knock the wind out of his prisoner, and slammed the door shut. He crossed his arms, and grunted miserably to himself.
"So I am assuming your depraved magic has not been dampened by our dungeon," Chara said, trying to hide her disbelief.
"Oh, no. It's fizzling away." He stepped out of the corner where he'd been shoved, regaining his second wind. "Like a popping sound and a high-pitched whistle all combined into one. Unless my ears are still ringing from that expert slam. Surprised my teeth didn't break." Though he could not see, he smiled alluringly at the guard. "Looking at you, handsome."
"Is that supposed to be an insult!?"
"Well that's a discredit to your gorgeous face that I can't see."
"Why you--"
"Please...do not engage him," Chara sighed. "And do not make a mockery of my people, prisoner. Any more shenanigans and I will make your life here a regrettable one."
Hadwin yawned.
The maddening back-and-forth was blessedly short-lived, however, when another figure appeared from the stairs and revealed herself to the retinue that was gathered before the cage of the wild animal.
"Teselin," Chara echoed Elespeth's response, "you are no longer allowed down here. Go back upstairs, immediately." But she couldn't believe what the young girl was saying, as she slowly approached the bars that separated her from the bound and blindfolded mad-man. "Do not tell me that you are vouching for this miserable creature?"
"How sweet." A more genuine smile, one without so much teeth, spread across Hadwin's face. "I'm real sorry it went down that way, kid. I overestimated how much you could handle. I was going to guide you through it, but, well," he barked a laugh, "I guess I should stick to scaring people, huh? But, there's something I never had the chance to say." The glibness faded away from his tone, and Chara could detect...affection? "We all have darkness in ourselves, but that doesn't make us bad people. Yes, that aspect is a part of you. But the fact that you reacted so strongly to what I showed you....that shows you're on the right path. That you want to be better. I'm cheering you on, Tes. I want you to be stronger than your fear. I know that you are."
"Oh, aren't you manipulative?" Chara elbowed Elespeth in the ribs. "And you call me so, when this man is giving the performance of his life, here." She whirled on Teselin. "You expect me to release him because I am 'wrong'? He stands accused for more than the nightmare he implanted in you. He is a spy, and I plan to extract plenty of information from him."
"And I plan to tell you," he said, matter-of-fact. "Why else would I put myself in such close quarters with your Highness? It's the most direct way of communicating. And yeah, maybe I wanted to experience the properties of your dungeon, a little. A reprieve from fear-bombardment; can't blame me, there. Maybe I'll sleep without nightmares for once."
"Now you want me to pity you?" She scoffed. "Serves you right to be plagued by nightmares, you fear-creating cretin. Teselin." She put an arm on her shoulder and guided her away from the bars of Hadwin's cell. "I will not say so again. Go upstairs or I will force my guard to drag you there myself."
"Best listen to her, kid." He nodded in the direction where he thought the staircase resided. "Don't get sick on my account. I already put you through enough, today." When at last she retreated up the stairs and out of the dungeons, he leaned one foot, then the other, against the toe of his boots, which squelched in protest. "I don't suppose it'd be too much to ask for a dry set of clothes? I'm wet through."
"Shouldn't have been 'bonding' with Teselin, hmm? Then she wouldn't have rained all over you.
"You're right. I'm in no position to make demands. But I do have something you might want." He leaned his face against the cool bars, tilting his attention towards Elespeth, who would understand what he was soon to disclose. "I have my own vial of devil's draught. If it comes to it--if the kid's still recovering and too daunted by her fear--you can use it on her. It works. I experimented...few times. Nothing scandalous!" He anticipated Elespeth's expression of disgust in manipulating others against their will. "She would have to agree to it, of course. Slip a little into her bloodstream, give her a little scare--I won't do it this time, if that's what you're thinking--and she'll be under your influence. For a day, at least. The compulsion might circumvent the out-of-control qualities of her magic, and she'll be able to summon that tidal wave without trouble, and end it with ease, at your suggestion. If this plan hinges on the wave's success, and allays Teselin's terror at destroying the world...well, it's good to have a contingency."
Chara tried to hide her intrigued expression by covering her mouth with a stroking hand. "Compulsion, you say? And how am I to know you are not feeding her poison?"
"You could use it on me. Would that be apt punishment, Friendless?" He again tilted his head at Elespeth.
"Don't trust him!" bellowed a voice from the dark. Cyprian Rigas, who'd been stashed in the far cell weeks ago, and promptly forgotten, had seemed to stir from whatever fugue state the static darkness had outfitted him with. "That is the mad-man! The one who crept into my home and showed me unspeakable things. Who bedded my wife, and turned her against me!"
"That was me, yes," Hadwin admitted, with the casual cracking of his neck. "It paved the way for your leadership though, didn't it?"
"I was nearly killed!" Chara's mounting pierce reverberated down the empty cells. With a heel-turn, she lowered her stormy eyes at Elespeth. "You knew about this, didn't you? And chose to say nothing to me? You, who has been nattering non-stop about my information withholding? You sanctimonious hypocrite! What is this, then?" She pointed accusatory fingers at both Hadwin and Elespeth. "You did not think it imperative for me to know the goings-on in my estate? Your unholy union with this man?"
"Kill him!" Cyprian wailed in his corner. "Kill him. Make him suffer. Crack his bones and suck the marrow dry. Burn his remains. He is a demon. A demon!"
"Easy there, you cannibal," he chuckled. "But if you'd hear me out, and Elespeth can attest to this...you need me alive. I know too much, and I have a very useful skill-set, as you've seen. Kill me and you lose an asset. Need I remind you, I am also integral in the final stages of this plan we've so lovingly crafted."
The days since joining Imogen's caravan proceeded less painfully than Elias had anticipated. As if sensing his disinterest, Imogen did not make mention of her confessions by the fire during that first, most unbearable evening. When they spoke at all, it was about Eyraille. How much farther they needed to trek, the disposition of the Skyknight princess, and how they had come to tend her injuries. The state of the country, in general. Elias knew that these questions were an excuse to speak to him, but he answered her inquiries truthfully--with the exception of Vega Sorde, whose previous state of death he did not mention.
His brothers, too, had been supportive, in that they kept to themselves and did not agitate Elias's already nonexistent patience. Whether they were respecting his request that they not escalate their already emotionally tense environment, for Daphni was tired and needed to convalesce, or that they, too, had no desire to worsen the situation, it was unclear. But what mattered was that they were well-behaved. For the most part.
When they reached the gates of Eyraille's capital after the fifth day of travel, they did not wait for more than an hour before a dashing figure ran towards them on the streets, her copper-red hair aglow in the sun. Vega Sorde, in person, had arrived to meet them.
"Sir Vega Sorde," Elias positioned his mount beside Daphni. "Did you honestly run out here to greet us? A personal reception; I've been spoiled with attention, lately. You needn't have bothered." After appraising her with a careful eye, he frowned. "You're looking peaky. Let us hope that's from the cold."
When the two identical brothers neared the vanguard with their horses, Elias jerked his head at them. "These are my brothers, Myron and Felix. Beyond them, is a caravan containing the person of Imogen St. Rain. My mother," he said, without any inflection that would suggest affection or derision. She was merely...a person. "She would like to speak to your king about his support for the revitalizing efforts of St. Thorne. And yes, we do bring news from Ilandria in regards to an alliance, so vehemently against Mollengard are they that they are eager to befriend any nation to its opposition."
With Vega's directive, they passed through the checkpoint and into Eyraille's capital without trouble, riding along the wide avenues of the city until they crossed into the threshold of the palace proper. Attendants arrived to stable their horses and park the caravan in the carriage house, while they were all invited into the grandiose hallways leading to the king's chambers.
Haraldur, who had been hanging garlands all morning (as was his begrudging contribution to the upcoming festivities, since they didn't need him for hunting, guardsmen duties, or anything useful that he'd rather do), met with Vega in the hallway, brow lined with bemusement. "his Majesty told me that you ran out of the palace as if it were on fire. You know your kingdom employs guards for escorts." His eye caught the familiar figures of Daphni and Elias. Turning in full to the healers, he presented them with a smile and a slight bow. Since his arrival at Eyraille, he'd become quite accomplished at bowing, regardless of rank or title. "I had hoped the two of you escaped Stella D'Mare in one piece."
"More or less," Elias said, resting a hand his chest--over his lungs. "And you have done the same."
"More than less," he replied, and Elias did not miss the tender look that he directed at Vega, beside him.
The small entourage arrived at the king's chambers, and at Vega's insistence, were given permission to receive an audience with the young monarch of Eyraille. Together, they all bowed, with Imogen securing a place up in the front, between Daphni and Elias.
"Your Majesty. Thank you for receiving us so quickly. It is an honor. We have traveled far, from the former territory of St. Thorne, to beseech your recognition of our nation as a ruling body once more. We may have changed on a fundamental level; St. Thorne experiences a schism of ideologies; former Thornians and the rightful Kariji in contestation over how to govern the land. But with the support of yours and other kingdoms of your notoriety and caliber, we may hope to shift the minds of our people, and restore St. Thorne to a place of glory and peace. But we require aid. Funds. A written documentation stating you will recognize St. Thorne. In turn, we'll lend our armies and our healers, once we are able. We understand that Mollengard's ever-threatening presence looms over us all. We wish to liberate Stella D'Mare and Andalari, who still houses a sizeable population of our Thornian refugees. Please," she bowed even lower, her head almost touching the ground as she bent to her knees, with her long, dark tresses sweeping the lush carpeting at her feet. "Will you support us?"
"As an incentive," Elias added, "I'll offer my services to you, effective immediately. Eyraille is at a deficit of magic-based healers. Your soldiers will benefit under swifter treatment."
"You will need that, your Majesty," Haraldur commented, from his position at the far side of the chambers where he leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "You've been finding yourself in plenty of skirmishes, lately." A slight smirk spread across his lips. Skirmishes, of course, was a euphemism for their sparring sessions, of which were not too kind on his body. "With knives." His knives.
Elespeth’s and Chara’s warnings did not fall deaf on Teselin’s ears (although the heaviness of the atmosphere in the dungeon), but perhaps out of her own sense of muted defiance and exerting her will, she stood firm. It dampened her spirits to see Hadwin being treated in such a way, when he didn’t deserve it… well, as far as she knew he didn’t. Much like her own brother, the man was a bit of a mystery; and, not unlike Vitali, he embraced the darkness in himself as a major part of his identity. But what he had done to her, while it might have resulted in something terrible… it had not been his intention. She had simply run away before he could help her.
“I didn’t realize I’d be so afraid,” she said to him, softly. “I never… I never thought I could become that… person. It never occurred to me because I’ve always been so hyper-aware of how I affect the world around me… all you did was show me what was possible.” Her shoulders drooped, and she looked down at her bare feet. “You were helping me… I just wasn’t open to accepting that help. I’m sorry…”
The young summoner looked up, detecting a change in the wolf-man’s generally glib tone. And what he had to tell her was no insignificant reassurance. He believed in her. She was on the right path… Did that mean, she’d been doing it right, all along? That she was not in danger of becoming that wretched person she’d seen in the vision he’d imparted? “Is that really what you think?” She asked so softly it was almost a whisper, completely missing Chara’s back-handed comment about manipulation.
Glancing at Chara, she argued, in Hadwin’s defense. “He isn’t a spy for Mollengard anymore; Mollengard only thinks that he is. I’m sure he’ll tell you anything you want to know… you don’t need to lock him up. You don’t need to harm him.” And, for perhaps the first time, the young summoner felt uncomfortable in Chara’s presence. Did not welcome the weight of her hand on her shoulder; subtly, she managed to shrug it off, and furrowed her eyebrows. Was she threatening her…?
“...you are wrong.” She dared to tell the Rigas caster, her voice quiet, but resolute. “He made a mistake--that I agreed to--, but he is a friend, not an enemy. And if you alienate all of your friends… then who will you have left to fight for you?” A profound deduction, for someone who knew relatively little about Chara… yet no less relevant. In a way, however she might not have meant it that way, it was also a warning. Turning back to Hadwin, her expression turned sad and defeated. To see the way they treated him, the scrapes on his body, the damp clothes clinging to his body… In a way, just like he might have seen a modicum of his own sister in her, she saw a glimpse of her brother in him. In many ways, they weren’t so different. “Promise you’ll be alright?” She sighed, looking as defeated as she felt. Hadwin had likely suffered worse; and if he was anything like Vitali, then incarceration wasn’t more than a minor nuisance… but it didn’t make her feel any less sympathy. Or guilt.
Only once he assured her he’d be alright, did the young summoner leave, slowly ascending the staircase.
Elespeth, meanwhile, pinched the bridge of her nose, a headache pounding in her temples from the dynamic of the dank room. “He’s right, much though I hate to admit it. We need him; he knows more than any one of us standing here,” she sighed. “Dry clothes aren’t unreasonable… however much he might not deserve it.”
Hadwin’s offer, which shortly followed Teselin’s reluctant exit, did little to reassure the former knight. Her cheeks flushed with a rush of incredulous anger--that he would even deign to suggest that… “You, too?” She demanded, breathless. “Are you actually suggesting that we resort to mind control on that girl? To get her to do what we want, regardless of the condition? And here I thought you might have her best interests in mind… you’re a scoundrel in every sense of the word. Maybe you do deserve to rot, here…”
Her diatribe was interrupted, however, by none other than Cyprian Rigas, who had been condemned to the cells of the dungeon until the city had the strength and stability to properly prosecute him for his crimes, suddenly chimed in on the realization that the new prisoner was none than the man who had landed him in this stone purgatory. “Oh, shut up,” was all she could garner in retort to the madman, lacking the patience to deal with him… But Hadwin, as she should have predicted, took it took far. And suddenly, Chara Rigas was nipping at her heels, accusing her of hypocrisy and conspiracy. Suddenly, her headache throbbed all the worse.
“You’re accusing me of treason because it didn’t occur to me that you would care who was fucking Cyprian’s wife? Or that you cared about Cyprian at all?” She snapped, already wrung too raw to put up with Chara’s vitriol. “I apologize if I do not take everything that this ruffian has been up too all too seriously, venerable Lady Chara, but not even I realized the extent to which he was driving the man mad until I heard tell of his attack on you. Believe it or not, this fool has been selective as to what he has decided to confide in me, as well.” Turning toward the hysterical Rigas mage, she leveled her with a stare. “I’ve told you everything that seemed imperative--down to Hadwin’s identity and powers, at that. It’s no one’s fault but your own that you aren’t privy to the full extent of what is happening your beloved city. And considering how you’ve been trying to pull that poor summoner’s strings since she arrived, it was no less than you deserve.”
Frowning at Hadwin and his unending commentary, she huffed a sigh. “And as much as we both might detest it,” she continued, “...the fearmonger is right. We need him. Antagonizing him won’t serve us in any way. So if you’re quite content with your verbosity, we should start considering how we can help Teselin to be ready for this ludicrous plan.” She added, after a beat, and a pointed glance at both Chara and Hadwin, “Without devil’s draught. I won’t conspire with the two of you about controlling the mind of an impressionable girl. I spoke with Alster, last night. Filled him in with precisely what was going on.” The Atvanian warrior folded her arms tightly across her chest. “He thinks this is a mistake. That there are other ways… but you’ve become so comfortable in the idea of relying on Teselin that you haven’t bothered to explore other options. Maybe that is precisely what we should be doing: devising a contingency plan, if it turns out that Teselin is not ready when the day comes. A plan that does not involve Devil’s draught…”
Glancing at the spiraling staircase, where the young summoner had left just moments ago, Elespeth pursed her lips. “Wait for Alster to return. He might be able to help her, by means that will not scar her for life or have her agreeing to mind control. Until then… we should be keeping an eye on Mollengard. They’ve been too silent, too still for too long… it makes me think they’ve got something under way. If I were you,” she cast a final glance over her shoulder at Chara, “I’d be pondering a line of defense, as much as you are offense. None of this will matter if it turns out you have citizens worth saving from this threat.”
Vega had not been awarded the opportunity to grow particularly close to either Daphni nor Elias, especially given the circumstances under which she’d met them. That terrifying amnesia, the confusion, the isolation that resulted in wholly forgetting herself for those few, awful days… But she remembered their faces, along with Alster’s, and Haraldur’s. No one had said much about what it had taken to bring her back to life, or the care the healers had taken of her in the time that followed, but she wasn’t about to forget their efforts anytime soon. And seeing their faces again, in her kingdom, brought her an almost nostalgic sense of relief. As though, where there were healers, there were solutions.
“I needed to see for myself. That it was really you; I only know of one Sybaian and one Clematis healer who work together.” She smiled, though took a single step back at Elias’s quick appraisal of her health. “Rest assured, I’ve never been better. The cold has been difficult for me, this winter… but we’re finally entering the thaw, and winter is not long for this world. Don’t worry about me.”
Elias went on to introduce the rest of his party, which appeared to encompass a good deal of his family. Any friend of the Clematis healer was, of course, welcome; and none of the nearby sentries dared to argue with the fiery Skyknight Commander when she gave them the go-ahead to enter. “I will arrange an audience with my brother, Eyraille’s crowned monarch, at once. I think that he will see fit to lend you aid… not to mention, he will be very interested to hear about the potential for alliance with Ilandria.”
It wasn’t difficult to convince Caris to meet with the party of visitors, when she reassured him that they were friends, going so far as to add that they had tended her injuries during the war against Andalari. There were, of course, a few details that she left out… particularly the part where she had died, and had been resurrected. Some things, the young King simply did not need to know. At least, not anytime soon.
The Eyraillian princess connected with Haraldur in the hallways, where he was contributing to the festival of Equinox by lending his height to hang garlands. He’d almost refused to participate, entirely, when he discovered that there was neither a need for more guards nor hunters, but Caris’s lingering threat to dress him like a clown during festivities was all the incentive he needed to cooperate. “I do like to think I am currently safe within the walls of my own kingdom; escorts are unnecessary.” She brushed off Haraldur’s concern, as he offered his greetings to the two healers. Finally, she urged them onward, toward the throne room, with a gesture. “I’ve already planted the seeds to have Caris receive you; though I must apologize in advance… he is very young, for a King. And I cannot guarantee that you will be receiving him on his best behaviour.”
Leading the way, Vega escorted them before the king, whose expression was a curious mix of anticipation and suspicion. “Your Majesty.” She only ever reserved such formality for situations such as this, where it served her to stroke her brother’s ego and emphasize his importance and authority. “I present to you Imogen St. Rain, her sons, Myron, Felix, and Elias, and the Sybaian healer, Daphni. I owe a good deal of my health to the latter two, who tended my injuries during the war against Andalari.”
While she did not know enough about Imogen to speak in her favor, painting Elias and Daphni in a favorable light would buffer Caris’s opinion of the woman before she spoke her part. “Imogen St. Rain,” he addressed her, sitting straight and poised with his back against the throne that seemed all too big for him. “Please speak your piece.”
He lent the woman his ear for the duration of her speech, as she outlined the plight of her people, what she required of Eyraille, and how she would repay the act in turn. Frankly, this was the first time since Caris had come into power that anyone had approached the kingdom in hopes of striking any sort of deal, which did incite the urge to accept right away. But Eyraille depended on him not to be a push-over; and while he did have every intention of accepting St. Thorne’s offer, it was necessary to put on a face for negotiation. “I understand the delicate nature of your situation, Imogen,” he began slipping one hand off of the arm of his throne to clutch his chin. “Not long ago, Eyraille found itself in a similar predicament, forced to rewrite itself and make an effort to keep the citizens united and strong. However, you do realize that by documenting our recognition of your people as a ruling party of St. Thorne may cause disease among the Thornians who currently inhabit it. While I doubt that in their own disorganized plight they would serve as much of a threat to Eyraille, we cannot afford enemies, of any sort. It is alarming enough that Mollengard has plans to directly target us, if they are successful in their absorption of Stella D’Mare.”
“We’ll be earning more friends than making enemies,” Vega interjected civilly. “And St. Thorne had already established friendly relations with Ilandria… which could then extend to us.”
“Ilandria?” The young king raised his eyebrows. “They’ve not wanted anything to do with Eyraille for decades, due to its tyrannical rule… how sure are you that they would be willing to extend a hand in friendship?”
“I am willing to bet with certainty that your mutual hatred towards Mollengard will be enough to secure a lasting alliance.” Daphni pitched in. “At least, to begin with. Like all alliances, Your Majesty, the longevity relies on the work that you do to maintain it. And, in line with Elias’s offer… I would also like to offer my services to your kingdom. Between the two of us, we should be able to school your physicians in other tactics to broaden their horizons."
An already appealing offer had suddenly become all the more enticing. The young king frowned at Haraldur’s remark, and countered, “Careful, Haraldur. We are still in search of a suitable clown to play the Fool for entertainment during the Festival of Equinox.” He flashed a sinister smirk that only the mercenary could see, and added, in a whisper. “So far, you are still on my list. And you’ll make it to the top, if you don’t play your cards right.”
Turning back to Imogen and the healers, he resumed that stoic face of a king, and after a beat, offered a slow nod. “Very well. Imogen St. Rain, I’d like to take your offer into consideration, such that we might work out the details of precisely what you are looking for, and what you expect of Eyraille. But… I do like the implications of your proposal. And yours,” he added, nodding at the two healers. “You and yours are welcome to stay here in Eyraille for the time being. We are nigh prepared to celebrate the coming of spring Equinox; you are welcome to partake in the festivities.”
“You have our humble thanks, Your Majesty.” Daphni concluded, before they were escorted out of the throne room--at which point she addressed the sour look that Elias had flashed in her direction. “Do not give me that look. I’ve simply offered to school their physicians in the philosophy behind Sybaian healing, even if they are not capable of doing it, themselves. It won’t deplete me the same way as treating patients does.”
“Elias; Daphni.” Vega, with Haraldur not far behind, caught up with the two healers when they made their way back into the corridor. Uneasiness hummed in her expression, and she lowered her voice so that only the two could hear. “My brother… he does not know of… what happened to me. There has not been the right opportunity to tell him; there may not be, for quite some time. My only request is that you refrain from mentioning any of those details in his presence.” She looked down at her boots, looking as guilty as she felt. “He is young, and the burden of responsibility weighs heavily upon his shoulders. I’d like to refrain from contributing to that stress, as much as possible. I trust you can both understand.”
While he'd offered reassuring words to Teselin to help offset the damage he'd wrought from within, when she asked him of his sincerity, a solid nod pumped its affirmations. "You've got a big heart. It's gonna get in your way, but...only people of great fortitude and integrity choose to keep them. Because the path ahead, for those like you...it's a trying one. That's why n'er-do-wells like yours truly take the easy way out, and waste our lives in less than savory pursuits. But your compassion runs deep, so you...you'll persevere. And psh," he chortled, in his farewell to her, "I'll be fine. This is a typical day for me. Wouldn't have it any other way."
And when Teselin took her leave, after her glowing endorsement of his intentions and forthrightness as a former Mollengardian spy, he thought of trailing after her parting words with a long, wistful sigh. I'm bound to disappoint you, kid. Already, he was doing just that, when he'd made his proposal to dose her with the devil's draught as a method by which to facilitate her summoning ability.
"Just a suggestion," he shrugged at Elespeth. "Which I mention only because it'll hurt her less, in the end. It takes the guesswork out of the problem. She won't fear what'll happen if she fails, because she'll be influenced into achieving what's been asked of her. And since you're so hellbent on using her, if she loses control in the summoning, it affects her, it affects you," he nodded at Chara, "and it affects your precious city. That's all I'm saying. You can do what you like. I'm merely offering options."
But before Chara could consider the idea (which did sound enticing, if only Teselin would agree), that was when Cyprian had started wailing his protestations about the wolf-man, which had spurred the Rigas-head into accusing Elespeth of foul-play. And the Atvanian woman's response was fueled with equal ire, her tone of challenge filling up the sound in the acoustically-dense dungeon. "You told me of his name and identity, but you did not deign to inform me that he was Cyprian's 'madman," she said, keeping her own voice low, but intense, as a counter to the warrior's boisterous rumble. "This entire time, I thought that man was going mad with power and alienation, not that he was being provoked by some outside entity slowly sending him over the edge. Do you know how ludicrous that story sounds, Elespeth? But you knew. I had relied on you to inform me of any information that you came across, in my stead. I do not have eyes everywhere, Elespeth! I cannot investigate a damn thing if nobody tells me what is pertinent. It is one thing if Cyprian is crying out to his council about how a demon is sneaking into his chambers and copulating with his wife, but if one person can collaborate his story, then yes, it is worth investigating!"
"It's adorable how the two of you are fighting over me," Hadwin said, in a faux-fawning croon.
Chara ignored him. "And I can't afford to wait for Alster! He is not even here. This plan could happen at a moment's notice, and what then, if Alster isn't around to swoop in and save us all!? He can only communicate with you through dreams, which are innately unreliable. We don't have a resonance stone for ease of communication, so no, I am not relying on absent peoples beyond our allies in Eyraille, who do have a resonance stone and rocs who can arrive here within the day. Maybe if he wasn't gone--"
"--Hate to interrupt, because the two of you are delightfully dysfunctional together, but I do have some insights on Mollengard that you may want to hear."
"What?" Chara grabbed the bars of his cell, and almost spat into his still-blindfolded face. "And why should I believe your 'insights'?"
"Again, if I may point this out... One; I drove your opposition mad and now you lead your people without dissension. Two; I allowed your guards to arrest me, when I easily could have ran. Three; I offered you devil's draught, and for you to use it on me to find out if I'm telling the truth. I mean, do you want me to juggle fire swords for you, too?" He leaned away from the bars, from Chara's spitting venom. "The kid's right, your Ladyship. If you can't trust a soul, even those who are complying with you, how are you gonna save your city? Because from what I can see--"
Chara lifted her hand to silence him, despite the blindfold that he wore. "Don't use your fearmongering tactics on me. Tell us what you know, mongrel."
"Well, my name is Hadwin; let's start there. And, I'll be much more obliging if you'd kindly remove my blindfold and hand-ties, and offered me a dry set of clothes so I don't catch pneumonia and die."
After a long period of deliberation, she directed one of her guards to remove his fetters and the blindfold. "I shall send for dry clothes after you tell me what you know. Is that a compromise?"
Hadwin, his animalistic yellow-gold eyes glinting off the flames of etherea, which was gathered in the palms of all three Rigases present, tsked, but nodded. "For you, I suppose that's charitable."
Chara tried not to react to the way those eyes played off the light, and almost demanded he tie back on his blindfold. Instead, she moved her hands away from the cell, and nodded at him to share his information.
"Remember how I told you that Atli's tent had been compromised, Friendless?" He flicked his attention to Elespeth. "It's because they took him in for questioning. They came looking for him the other morning, ransacked his tent, and shackled him. Luckily I got hold of his devil's draught stores, and hid them before they could come across any of it. That doesn't save us from discovery of our collusion, though. If they'd tortured the truth out of him, Mollengard would find out about the draught, the names of the people involved, including the kid and your Forbanne friend, and our plan. They know I'm no good anymore; I was found out along with Atli, so I ran, and hid here. They're not stupid though; they know I'm hiding here, and they're going to want me. As for Atli," he sighed, and something akin to pain contorted the contours of his yellow-fire eyes, "he knew that once they caught him, he was as good as dead. So he hid a capsule of poison in his mouth...and now, he's no more. The reason I didn't tell you sooner, Elespeth, hell, the reason I didn't lead on that...is because Captain Solveig told me to hold off for as long as I could."
Chara's eyebrow shot upward, incredulous. "Captain Solveig? The leader of the Forbanne?"
"Yeah. She knew I'd come crying to you, so in exchange for not killing me or my sister, she told me to hold off telling you because she figured this information would hasten your plans towards Mollengard, and she doesn't want you to act yet--because if you do, you'll fail. Mollengard is far too suspicious of us, since they're now convinced Atli, and me, were working with the Rigases. But, she's going to talk them down, and prevent their retaliation, to buy you more time. Funny thing," he crackled his knuckles against the bars of his cell, "she's hiding some plans of her own. She's against her nation...and she wants us all to evacuate successfully. Why? Well, of course she's not going to tell me her master plan; I'm untrustworthy. But I can hazard a guess." He rapped his knuckles against the bars. "She wants your land for her 'children,' the Forbanne."
"Yes, your Majesty, her Highness speaks the truth." Imogen maintained her deep bow. "We have established favorable ties with Ilandria, who were once allies to St. Thorne in its heyday, before the Kariji liberation."
Elias gave her the side-eye, but chose not to dispute her claims. It was still a sore point for him that the Kariji people laid siege to St. Thorne and then settled their posteriors on the corpses of innocent thousands. That they rebuilt on graves, and forced the remaining captive Thornians to settle their differences and reform St. Thorne as the culmination of two disparate peoples. While he hadn't seen the "progress" that Imogen insisted had been made, he wasn't certain that his mother's quest for peace was well-received, by either Thornian or Kariji.
"And they are willing to extend their alliance to Eyraille, but only insofar as Mollengard remains a threat to your borders. They will not antagonize the conquering nation without the full support of Eyraille and other countries like yours. I could not say if they would secure said alliance, after the threat of Mollengard dissipates."
"If it dissipates," Haraldur muttered. He, however, did not respond to Caris's continued threat, and looked, instead, to a garland that he'd hung around the back-rest of the king's throne just that morning--wishing it would fall.
"St. Thorne, as I've already mentioned, will send healers to your cause. Please consider your support in our recognition. That is all we ask, at this time. We will talk specifics at a later date, when you are less occupied with your festival of vitality. As Kariji, we respect this time of the year as a sacred one. Transitory but beauteous--as all things are, when flower-fragility is so short-lived. We'd be more than honored to participate in your festivities." And not quite picking up on the back-and-forth of the king and a man she assumed was a guard (though he did not don an Eyraillian uniform), she added, "Oh, I do love the Fool, most."
At the king's dismissal, the entourage dispersed from the throne room and collected together in the waiting area. Several of the palace guards approached Imogen and offered to show her guests to their rooms. They all followed, graciously, save for Elias and Daphni, who Vega had taken aside. Once the room was empty of people save for them and Haraldur, she spoke in secretive tones--in case any eavesdroppers lurked in their vicinity.
"You have my word," Elias said, touching his Clematis brooch to seal the promise. "our Order is serious about patient confidentiality. If you do not wish to discuss it with others, then I won't. However," his eyes still lingered on her wan face, "it would behoove you to have a proper check-up, with those who fully know your condition." He waved to both himself and Daphni. "Though as Daphni has mentioned, she is here for consultations, not for full-on Sybaian healing. And I will hold you to that," he whispered to the Sybaian in question. "If there is a place in private where I may assess your condition, take me there."
Elias did not take no for an answer, and soon, they were all at Vega's quarters. After obtaining his medical bag and washing his hands in the basin at her bedside table, he urged the Skyknight to sit on the bed. Once his hands were dry, he pulled on gloves, and went to her side, monitoring her heartbeat and feeling her temperature. His conclusions were similar to Atli, before him; irregular heartbeat, lower than average body heat, shortness of breath, slow reflexes...but all of that paled to the curiosity that resided in her abdomen. He listened. He pressed. He even cast a surge of magic to confirm.
"Fascinating," he said, both in bafflement and intrigue. "Did you know that you are pregnant? With twins?"
Haraldur, who had remained quiet throughout the duration, nodded knowingly. "But now we have a third opinion. Care to give a fourth, Daphni?"
"I can't even fathom how this is possible," Elias continued, half to himself. "Your body should not be able to sustain life. Your core temperature is too low, especially around your abdomen, where it should be at its highest. Your heartbeat is not only irregular, but it is sluggish. If this has been going on consistently, as you've confirmed that it has, then they are not receiving enough oxygen, blood, or warmth. They should not even be alive, right now. Even so...it will not be for long."
Haraldur's entire body stiffened. "What?"
Elias sighed as he climbed to his feet. "They can't survive. ...They're dying."
Much though she wanted to deny it, Elespeth could see from the wolf-man’s point of view. And despicable as his idea was to its core… it still better took into consideration the young summoner’s well-being more than Chara ever had. But to control her mind, as a means of protecting her… “I don’t like it. Even if she gives her consent to have it used on her… she won’t be in control of her own faculties. We could make her do anything, agree to anything… it’s unethical. It isn’t right.” But, if she was going to agree to this tidal wave, all the same…
“...I will talk to her about it. As an option.” She emphasized the I while looking pointedly at Chara. “I’ll spell it out to her precisely as it is: the weight of the potential risks and payoffs. I am tired of that girl being urged towards decisions without being full informed. If she is going to agree to this possibility, then she will agree on all levels, to the good and the bad, while her mind is clear.”
It didn’t concern her much that Chara was convinced she was little more than a traitor for failing to tell her of the source of Cyprian’s demons, at this point. She’d long since lost hope in the Rigas caster as any sort of leader whom she could trust; and if the end of whatever positive relations they had going resulted in the safety of the young summoner, then she was perfectly willing to burn that bridge. “What would it really have mattered, had you known the source of that man’s madness?” She asked, sounding almost bored at how this topic endured. “Hadwin is right. It worked to your benefit; the Rigas council is yours, now. Would you really have insisted that he stop plaguing the man with his own nightmares, had you known? Would you have rid him of his demons so that you could succeed against him, fair and square? Because that certainly doesn’t sound like the person you are making yourself out to be.” She narrowed her eyes, but goaded her on no further. “You got what you wanted: Lady Chara, venerable leader of Stella D’Mare. Now, we have bigger problems.”
Far bigger problems, she would soon come to realize. Bigger and more dire than either she or Chara had anticipated.
Elespeth was all ears as soon as the shapeshifter mentioned Atli. It had been quite some time since she’d last spoken with the healer… She’d thought he’d been laying low. Perhaps it should have occurred to her that something worse had happened, when she’d stopped receiving updates from him… “Atli is dead?” Her voice was hardly more than a whisper. Taking a moment to digest this news, the Atvanian warrior pressed her back to the stone wall, raking a hand through her hair. Only now did she dare to look even mildly defeated. “Then it’s compromised… this entire damned plan is compromised, unless Atli took his own life before they could siphon information from him… is there even a point, anymore? In proceeding as we had intended? We don’t know how much Solveig knows. But if she knows that she was a target for the devil’s draught… then why bother proceeding with what we had in mind? And why the hell didn’t you tell me sooner, shapeshifter?”
There was no way in all of creation that Elespeth could have anticipated what he told her next. “What do you mean, Solveig told you not to say anything? What are you playing at, Hadwin?” Her face contorted into a snarl. “So help me, if you’ve been playing me a fool and playing both sides this entire time, I am going to walk away right now without a care as to what Chara exposes you to, or how heartbroken Teselin will be that you’re more wretched than she could have imagined…” In fact, that was precisely what it sounded like. That he was feeding them lies, because there was no way in hell or high water that what he said could have been true: that Captain Solveig, leader of the Forbanne army, was forsaking Mollengard… in order to bide them time?
“...Solveig wants Stella D’Mare for herself. And her Forbanne.” She had to say it out loud in order to process the absurdity of the situation. “Then if what you say is true… and if she isn’t aware of our plans with Devil’s draught, this may, in fact, make things far easier for us, on our part.” Pushing away from the wall, Elespeth began to pace. “This is all contingent on her remaining relatively in the dark, but if we make it appear as though we are planning to attack Mollengard and spend our precious time evacuating the city… then she might not see it coming. When we come for her.”
Facing Hadwin again, the former knight gripped the bars of the cell. “We still need the Forbanne on our side in order to take on Mollengard’s retaliatory assault, when we challenge them. Regardless of whether Teselin does or doesn’t summon the tidal wave. We’ll have to lay low, and keep hidden… and get in contact with Eyraille. Haraldur will need to know this.” In the interim…” Sighing, she looked over the shape-shifter, clad in drenched clothes and bruised from head to toe. “We’ll need to keep you hidden. I’ll leave that up to Chara, so don’t expect comfortable treatment.”
“Thank you… I appreciate your confidentiality.” Vega sighed, looking relieved at Elias’s agreement to keep quiet about her strange condition. She turned her gaze to Daphni, hoping that the Sybaian healer was willing to follow suit.
Daphni, of course, nodded. “You can expect silence from me as well, Your Highness.” She reassured her, clasping her hands in front of her. “My place is to heal, and sometimes healing can only take place in silence. But… I must agree with Elias, on his suggestion.” She furrowed her brows ever so slightly. Something was most definitely off about Vega’s aura, and it extended beyond the odd dimming and fading of her life-force around the edge. Something else was developing within it; alternate colors that were present in the princess, and yet… did not belong to her. Could it be…? No… no, that was impossible, given the state of her body. And, yet… “I implore you let him examine you. I share in his appraisal that you seem… unwell.”
“It isn’t anything out of the ordinary,” Vega frowned faintly. “Not beyond what you already know. I’m fine; believe it or not, I have been taking care of myself. And not long ago, I had another magically adept healer appraise my condition. I know on his suggestion that I am as fine as anyone who has come back from death can be.”
But it did not appear as though Elias was making a suggestion, so much as he demanded to check in on her condition. A part of her wanted to refuse; and only because she knew what he would find, and, perhaps, what the Sybaian healer who could see beyond layers of flesh and blood already knew. The fewer people who were aware of the life developing inside of her, the more secure she felt. Even if the two healers before her swore their secrecy.
In the end, she opted to agree, only because she did not see a way out of it, and because Haraldur, who was present during the exchange, would reprimand her for not being vigilant about her health. She led them to the privacy of her quarters, locking the door behind her to ward off anyone who might be inclined to stop by. “I ask that you keep your voices down,” she sighed, reluctant in her compliance. “Sometimes, these walls seem thin.”
The Eyraillian princess humored the Clematis healer in his unyielding need to check her vital signs, which were, of course, abnormal, but nothing she wasn’t already aware of. It was only when his hands came to rest on her abdomen that she heaved a quiet sigh, knowing exactly what was coming. “Yes… I’ve known for over a month, now.” She confirmed, weary of having to elaborate on the topic of her pregnancy to another person. “I don’t know how it is possible; when I was healing in Stella D’Mare, I was told it was not possible, given the condition of my body. So…” Pressing a hand to her temple, she shook her head guiltily. “I… we didn’t take precautions.”
“I recall this. I was present when the D’Marian healers informed you that you could not bear children.” The Sybaian healer chimed in, her face a study in apology. “I, myself, confirmed that… please accept my apology, Sir Vega Sorde. It was never my intention to mislead or misinform you. To be brutally honest, I, like Elias, am just as perplexed as to how this happened, but… he is not wrong.” Daphni looked beyond the Skyknight, at the colours that silhouetted her. Colours that only she could see. “I can see the signs in your aura. Other colors blinking in and out among your own. But there’s…” There’s something wrong, she wanted to say. Unfortunately, Elias--whose bedside manner had something to be desired, confirmed before she could: They’re dying.
Understandably, neither Haraldur nor Vega took this sudden, blunt news in stride. What little color blushed the Skyknight’s face rapidly drained, and she shot to her feet. “Dying? What do you mean?” She demanded, and her aura swam with shock and anger and sadness and fear. “They can’t be… I’ve been doing well. I have been taking care of myself! I’m eating more to sustain them, I dress warm and soak in hot baths and spend most of my time by the fireside when I am not busy with daily tasks. The most exertion I’ve put myself through was running to meet the both of you at the gates, today.” She clenched her jaw, and her fingers curled into fists. “So how the hell are they dying? I’ve been doing everything right!”
“I believe you, Vega.” Daphni strived to placate the distraught Skyknight, if not for the woman’s benefit, than for her own. “Please, sit down. May I try something? Nothing invasive; I want to see if I am able to find the source of this attack on your life-force. You are still within the first trimester, it isn’t too late. If we can identify it, then we can seek a solution.”
Struggling to contain her own wild emotions, for the Sybaian healer’s sake, Daphni nodded and sat down again. Her hands shook, but not with weakness or cold; but in fear. “I’ll do whatever it takes,” she said in a small voice. “Even if it means confining myself to bed until I deliver.”
“We’ll find out what is necessary.” Daphni told her, placing a gentle hand on either side of her head. “Try to center yourself. The fewer layers of emotion that I must navigate through, the easier and more accurately I can interpret the heart of the issue.”
Closing her eyes, the Sybaian healer found her way through the excess of Vega’s emotional energies, slowly, gently looking into her core; the basis where her life-force resided. It was immediately different from any other soul she’d looked into; a harsh clash of elements, the warmth of summer and the harsh bite of winter at war with one another. Light and darkness battling for the same space. And where there was light, tiny abysses of black nothingness cast their shadows in such a way that the very life-force driving Vega Sorde was not able to shine to its fullest. This explained everything: the struggle of her body to keep herself afloat, let alone the two delicate lives growing within her. For within her very core, where her soul resided, was a siphon, of sorts… as if death itself, while never reaching close enough to sully her soul with its cold fingers, continually deprived it of what it needed to keep her healthy.
Daphni had told the Skyknight commander that she wouldn’t do anything invasive… but seeing an opportunity, she quietly asked forgiveness, and acted on it. With her own life force, coming to the aid of Vega’s, the Sybaian healer sought out the inky dots that stifled the soul’s eternal light. She shone her own so brightly that eventually, one by one, they dissipated. And winter lessened its hold, and summer shone brighter again. But that dark entity, that void that shared a space with Vega’s soul… it remained, for there was nothing that even a Sybaian healer could do to close a gate that had been opened during resurrection.
Both Daphni and Vega opened their eyes with a gasp, the latter panting, clutching a hand to her heart. The colour in her face was almost instantaneous in its return; her sluggish heart-beat picked up its pace. For the first time in so long… the Eyraillian princess felt warm, from the inside out. “What…” The Skyknight looked up, at the Sybaian healer’s pale face. “What did… you do?”
Taking a moment to catch her own breath, Daphni met Vega’s eyes. Her own swam with deep concern. “Vega… your life force--the light that nourishes your soul… it is begin antagonized. Something… a void, a gate… it is threatening you, every second of every day, without purposely seeking you out to destroy you. It looks like… like…” She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. “A gate to death’s realm. You are literally a living paradox… fully alive, while harboring death.”
The Skyknight’s eyes widened. Her parasomnia, the auditory and visual hallucinations--or, what she had thought were hallucinations… she had been seeing through the lens of death, all along. Seeing, hearing Aeriel… it was all real. “What… what can be done?” She whispered, almost afraid to ask. “Tell me.”
“Unfortunately, it is nothing that either I or Elias have the ability to reverse. Our practice is in life, not in death.” Daphni shook her head, hiding her shaking hands in the sleeves of her robes. “But… the Rigas caster--Alster. I have worked with him before; he has the potential to make an excellent healer. And, more importantly… his magical abilities lend him skills that neither I nor Elias can master. He opened the portal to return the Serpent to its dimension…” Pressing her lips together, she proclaimed, “Who is to say he might not have the ability to close the door on death? Vega…” Reaching forward, she took the princess’s hand. “I patched up the holes in your life force, but the cause of it all still remains, and your light will deteriorate, again. The only permanent solution is closing the void inside of you.”
Placing a hand to her face, feeling the warmth of her cheek in a way that he hadn’t felt in a long time, Vega stood from the bed again. “What… what am I to do, in the interim? Even if we manage to find Alster Rigas and bring him to Eyraille before it’s… too late?”
“Do what you have been doing. Take care of yourself; eat well, exert your body as little as possible. Stay warm and hydrated. When you begin to feel the warmth seeping from your skin, again…” Daphni paused. She would never hear the end of it from Elias, but… “You are in the presence of healers who are not going to let anything happen to you or your children, if we can help it. I’ll do what I can to keep the damage in check. Regardless of what negotiations or compromises your brother and Imogen come to, I’ll stay here for as long as I am needed.”
Taking a step back to give the princess some space, Daphni glanced sidelong at Elias. It was best they give the expecting mother--and the man who was undoubtedly the father of her children--room to breathe and consider the blunt news with which they’d been stricken. She wasn’t even sure that Vega or Haraldur took notice when the two of them left, finding their way into the corridor, and closing the door quietly behind them. “Before you say what I know you’re going to say,” the Sybaian healer glanced sidelong at Elias, “I will not make a habit of exerting myself to treat patient when they are otherwise able to find alternate treatment. But this… I think you can agree that this is different. If we can find a means to contact Alster Rigas, I will gladly relinquish this to him, but until then…” She looked at her hands, which, mercifully, were no longer shaking. “I won’t allow the princess of Eyraille to suffer such a curious condition, if there is something that I can do about it. You didn’t see what I saw…”
Looking down at her boots, she pressed a hand to her temple. “I don’t know how she was ever able to conceive. But what I do know is that if this condition is left untended, then in the best case scenario, she will lose both of her children. And in the worst case scenario…” There were shadows in her eyes when she looked up. “All three of them will perish. Wilt away, like flowers deprived of sunlight…”
At Elespeth's consideration of introducing the devil's draught to Teselin, Hadwin clicked his tongue in approval. "Glad you're seeing it my way. Never said it was glamorous. And definitely not a method you 'honorable' sorts would even attempt to digest, lest it mess you all up inside. Give you some bad dyspepsia. But I'm not forcing this option on anyone, and it is, of course, at the discretion of the user--which will be Teselin. So I give you my blessing to go forth and explain away the dangers of its consumption. Not like it isn't...but most everything we're doing has no basis in 'safety.'"
"And it is not as if I have any say in the matter," Chara muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. "The two of you have decided for me."
"That I have," Hadwin grabbed the bars and propelled his arms backwards in a stretch. "Because I know you want her to take that draught. And if you want us to continually seek your approval on every talking point, then this is going to be a long run for you as Rigas head. And I'm not talking about longevity. Just on day to day minutiae alone."
Whether it was the combination of Elespeth, Hadwin, and the freshly-absent Teselin, or the energy-dampening effects of the dungeon, Chara was fast becoming too exhausted to maintain her self-righteous ire. Between their vehement opposition of her, and the darkness that festooned her on all sides beyond where her light shone (save for the predatory pair that belonged to Hadwin), she was quickly losing control of the situation. Despite the breaking down of her nigh-unwavering resolve, she continued on the defensive. "That is not the point, Elespeth. Would I have stopped the man? Well, you already constructed the proper narrative in your head. Who am I to dispute the 'very' accurate representation that you have of me? No--my point is that you should have informed me, regardless of what I would or would not do with the information. That was our arrangement when I first took you into my home. But you obviously had other plans." The last of her words ended airily, and in a half-yawn. Not out of impetuousness, as a child would yawn when bored, but out of the rising need to sleep. Still, she stood tall, and proud, and listened to the mongrel's nonsensical yammering about compromised plans and Solveig's purported goals for Stella D'Mare.
"He's dead," Hadwin confirmed, and his nod was a slow dip in solemnity. "He had gotten careless ever since your Forbanne friend's visit. Hope led him astray. He made some mistakes. Spoke too loud. Said some revealing things. Made suspicious movements during patrol times. And he was already a target. Past transgressions and all. But he took responsibility for his mistake. Ended his life before they even dragged him out of the tent. I doubt he said anything; hence the lethal silencer."
As Elespeth's threats mounted to take the place of Chara's, who was now suddenly too quiet to spout vitriol, Hadwin pulled his weight back to the cell's bars, and shrugged. "Trust me, her Ladyship will not be the worst I've suffered. No offense," he cocked his head at Chara. "I'm sure you're a very lovely torturer. Might even know the best ways to crank the rack. But, again...I wouldn't keep mentioning that you can use the devil's draught on me if I weren't being honest with you. Solveig wants Stella D'Mare; that's my assessment."
"But that is preposterous," Chara balked, coming to some semblance of resurrection at the very thought. "What in all hells would Solveig do with Stella D'Mare? Its area is not terribly large, it's half-wrecked, and once we close the Rigas gates, they will not be able to enter, even if she arranged her entire forsaken army into a battering ram."
"You may give your prodigious estate too much prestige, m'lady," Hadwin gave her a mock bow. "Your blood seal is not infallible. And you will find that Solveig is resourceful. Though she possesses no magic of her own, she's quite the alchemist. She alone figured out how to grant her Forbanne lovelies magical healing. She's done plenty for the betterment of them as a society. Makes sense she'd want to hole up with them on some far-off magically-rich peninsula. And this city's numbers of regular Mollengardian soldiers...they don't stand a chance against Forbanne." He raised both arms to rest them behind his head, running fingers through red-brown hair that, from the rain, and the dankness of the cells, appeared a dripping, inky black.
"One fault of Solveig, though, is her pride. She is so convinced that you won't attack her Forbanne, so unafraid of any retaliation we may be planning against them, that she hasn't even considered that we're going after her. Overconfident, I'd say. A half-populated city of mages versus her near-indestructible, magic-resistant army. No contest, right? It's fortunate for us...if we can corner her, clip her, and drench her with fear."
"Of which I have little hope you'll succeed," Chara huffed into the dank, stale air.
"Oh, ye of no faith. It'll be...well, not a cakewalk, but something else. Maybe it'll involve cow-pies." He elected for a chuckle. "One thing that Solveig might be aware of, is the tidal wave. She's been watching the goings-on at this estate. She's seen the freak storm clouds. The mysterious torrential rain. Mollengard may not be as geographically savvy this far south, but it does look suspicious. I've seen Solveig moving her Forbanne into high-tiered barracks on land. But at least we know that she's keeping them in much the same area of the city. Easy access, and easy summoning. Though," he set his arms down, to rest against the ledge of his cell, "looks like your Forbanne friend is going to have to establish that mind-link with the army in place of Atli. Think he's up for it?"
"You can tell him, yourself." Chara flung open her long coat and reached into an inside pocket. The resonance stone appeared in her hand, its cracked surface dark and inactive. "Since the two of you do not need me in this or in any stages of the plan," she pressed the stone to Elespeth's chest, "I leave it to you. Contact Eyraille. Tell them what we've discussed, here. Inform them to find Alster--whatever you think is pertinent." Then, with a defeated sigh, she turned, and made her way up the stairs. "I am done, here. My guards will bring the mongrel food and a clean set of clothes. He will stay down here, until we have need of him."
And as her voice grew fainter by distance, until it was no more, Hadwin exchanged a faux-baffled look at Elespeth. "...Was it something we said?"
As expected, the fiery Skyknight Commander's reaction to the news was...tense. Unlike Haraldur, who stood stock still, one hand gripped over an invisible point near his chest, Vega had animated herself to a fluttering position, trailing enough bluster around her to generate dragon-smoke from her nostrils. So much for keeping mindful of the thin walls... But he certainly couldn't blame her. When it came to children, unborn or otherwise, parents tended to respond irrationally to the prognosis. It was always a delicate situation, but one that he never learned how to handle, delicately. With silent apologies to Daphni, who was likely receiving emotional whiplash from the Eyraillian royal, he had no choice but to defer to his Sybaian colleague on all matters involving decency and tact. Fortunately, she was able to quell Vega's outburst with no (ostensible) reactionary harm to her. Unfortunately, she succeeded in calming the other woman because she was preparing to do what she, moments ago, promised she wouldn't.
"Daphni," his voice grumbled in warning. But by then, it was too late. With her eyes closed and posture relaxed, he knew that her consciousness had left their plane of existence. She was with Vega, now, in her mindscape, and the silence that passed from woman to woman alerted Haraldur, who crossed the invisible threshold he'd drawn in the floor to stand beside his lover. His hand hovered outwards, desiring to touch her, to offer comfort throughout the ordeal, but Elias warned him that outside physical contact may otherwise disrupt a sensitive process. Swallowing a lump in his throat, Haraldur nodded mutely, and his hand, which had been poised before him, trembled, losing all stability.
At last, the two of them awakened. Haraldur was at Vega's side in seconds, holding her upright as she struggled to sit up in the bed. With his proximity, and their skin-to-skin contact, he almost released her, as if he'd been burned. "Your...your skin. It's hot. Or at least, it's not nearly as frigid, and I'm unused to it. And," he stared at her face, "your cheeks..."
"What did you do?" Elias echoed, also propping Daphni upright with a steady arm. His eyes glinted with suspicion.
As the healer explained her process, and what she'd seen in Vega's soul, it was as though Haraldur's own soul was the one afflicted, for how quickly he deteriorated--like a statue subjected to the ravages of nature at an expedited time frame. Cracks appeared, and all the fine detail eroded, making way for gray-green moss and shriveled vines. He looked just as Elias had remembered, on the day he brought the recently-deceased Vega to Stella D'Mare. His devastation was shielded by stony acceptance, but the truth shone in his eyes. He was terrified. And assured of his own destruction, if Vega's life should sunder for the third time. The final time. Only now, she was taking additional company to her overdue sepulchre.
For the first time in over a month, Haraldur regarded her as he once had: a walking corpse. Barely alive, but dead all the same.
"What...what can we do?" he echoed, his voice devoid of his own life, having sacrificed it with Vega upon her pyre. When Daphni proposed that Alster Rigas may possess the ability to close her connection to death, it was a mixed blessing. On one hand, a solution existed. On the other hand...
"Elespeth told us that he went on some fool's errand to uncover a hidden kingdom. His whereabouts are currently unknown. By the time we even find him..." Trailing off, Haraldur sat on the bed beside Vega, placing one hand, half-heartedly, on her lap.
"Do what you have been doing; I agree with Daphni," Elias said, endeavoring to fill up the emotionally-charged space with his voice. If even he could feel the wounds of their collective auras, how badly was Daphni experiencing their residue? "Continue to take your hot baths. To sit by the fire. Dress in layers. Eat foods rich in iron, to stimulate your blood count. Rest, whenever feasible. And you must keep off a roc. Riding one is too dangerous in your current state. In the meantime, we will lend you all the expertise that we have, until a solution is found. I will not be departing with my brothers and mother...especially as I've offered myself as a prize to your kingdom. Consider me your stuffed turkey, with all the dressings." He tried for a tension-erasing smile. "Even though, in my current state, I look more like a drowned rat. Regardless of appearances, my healing works much the same."
Before he excused himself to leave, he took one last look at the grieving couple. The mercenary had swept Vega into his arms, and resumed his statue stillness. However, before closing the door behind him, Elias detected a green, pulsating glow of something from within Vega's pocket. By then, they were already in the corridor, and it was too late to barge through the doors to investigate its source.
Alone with Daphni, and the knowledge of what she had done, he spun to face her, his hands finding purchase against her forearms, which he squeezed in place. But when she chanced a peek at his expression, it was not beset with livid wrinkles along the ridges of his mouth. Only concern lit up his eyes...and a strange sense of understanding.
"When I was under the influence of that cursed moondial, and time was out of joint, and I was certain I'd meld into the heavens in perfect singularity, I remember, vividly, when I was tasked to see to the sister of the innkeeper." His still-gloved hands performed minuscule strokes along her arm. "She was having complications in birth. And when I delivered that baby...it was as if I truly understood existence for the first time. I can't deny these unborn children their existence, either, not when their to-be parents, that mercenary, most of all, are so desirous of them, that it hurts to watch. Yes, even I am affected," he snorted. "Heartless as I am, the healer in me will not allow any of them to die. So I will help you in this, Daphni. And we will ensure that your efforts are used responsibly, in proportion to when the Eyraillian princess needs your guidance most. That is the compromise that I will make with you." Dropping his arms to his sides, he began his walk along the corridor. "While I haven't the slightest idea where I am going, perhaps a guard will materialize in our line-of-sight and whisk us to our chambers. Once we are there, you are getting a treatment of your own." With a coy smile, he added, "a little life force of my own, if you are interested?"
That evening, when Vega had at last surrendered to sleep, with Haraldur scooping her tightly in his arms, Alster Rigas visited her dreams.
He appeared to her on a cliff overlooking the mountains of Eyraille. It was a place he'd once explored with her when he opened an empathetic connection, in his efforts to dissolve her residual death shroud. And now, as he'd feared--death lingered on. It oozed out of the cracks of stone-work that surrounded them, sending palls of miasma into the coruscating dawn.
"Vega." His own smoke filled the air as he spoke; only, it was white, harmless vapor, which had sailed on the updrafts. "I tried to check on you sooner. I...are you faring well?"
With an apologetic shake of his head, he continued. "My connection is tenuous at best. I don't have a lot of time. If Elespeth or Chara contacted you, then you know I'm trying to return to Stella D'Mare. I'm requesting transport by roc, if that's something you can provide me. I have the coordinates for the kingdom of Galeyn." He recited them, several times. "If you can't remember them when you wake, I'll meet one of your Skyknights in Braighdath, so long as the roc touches down close to evening. If it's easiest on the roc, I'll return with it and its rider to Eyraille--as long as I'm able to arrive at Stella D'Mare in the days following. Will this be feasible for you?" Already, his form had begun to fade into the azure. "Can you affirm?" And, like the vapor that drifted from his mouth just moments ago, vapor was all that remained of the Rigas caster, as he disappeared in full.
“Regardless of what Solveig wants with a city like this… the fact remains that if she will abandon Mollengard in favor of her own agenda, then that does give us a huge advantage.” Elespeth mused, feeling momentarily less hopeless. Even if the feeling wouldn’t last. “Because the rest of Mollengard isn’t what we need to worry about. They’re just ordinary fighters, and nothing any of us haven’t faced before. Our challenge stands with the Forbanne… which, if they will not be fighting for Mollengard under Solveig’s orders, then our focus should solely be on tracking her patterns, and swaying the Forbanne to our control… with Haraldur’s help.” If he is able to succeed…
If only the settle the matter at hand--which Chara seemed steadfastly reluctant to let go of--the former knight sighed and dropped her own self-righteous brigade. Becoming divided was precisely what would cause them to lose this battle that hadn’t even begun; and they couldn’t afford that, when the odds may not have been particularly in their favor while they were cooperating… “Alright, Chara. I understand.” Elespeth blew air from between her lips. “I didn’t fully confide in you when I should have; that was an oversight on my part, and you’re right to be frustrated. I’m sorry. But can we please move past this and focus on the next step? We need to work together if we’re going to see victory.”
Especially if Atli was dead--which Hadwin confirmed, once again, that the healer was. Perhaps she was imagining it, but Elespeth almost thought she detected an undercurrent of sadness past the wolf-man’s snide prosody. Was it possible that he did give a damn about his comrades? If the affection she detected toward young Teselin was any indication… then it was possible that she hadn’t given Hadwin any ample benefit of the doubt. Then again, that appeared to be precisely what he wanted: to be seen as a smarmy bastard with sleeves full of tricks, and little care for how it impacted the world around them. “At least… it sounds as though it was painless, for him. She commented, gripping her elbows. “Though… I’m sorry I did not pay closer attention. I should have known that Haraldur’s presence made him over-eager… It is reassuring to know that this matter meant enough to him to ascertain that he said nothing. That, if nothing else, confirms where his loyalties really lay…” Unfortunately, now that she was sure he could be trusted, it was too damned late to do anything about it.
Before they could further discuss the matter beyond Haraldur’s potential involvement with this plan of action (or what was left of it), Elespeth felt the weight of the resonance stone that Chara pressed into her hand. Furrowing her eyebrows, she commented, “But there is more to be discussed,” she mentioned, as the Rigas caster made to depart, informing them that the matter was in their hands. The Atvanian warrior watched as Chara climbed the stairs and disappeared. “And here, I thought I’d be happy that she would relinquish control to us.” She sighed, looking over the warm green of the smooth resonance stone in her palm. “But this… isn’t ideal. There are too few of us to carry this out; you me, Haraldur, potentially Teselin, and Chara. We cannot be divided…”
Pressing her lips together, she placed the resonance stone in her pocket. “Might as well make yourself comfy, here. You won’t be getting out anytime soon… which leaves me to deal with this mess.”
Some time later that evening, when the Rigas estate had largely darkened and many had retired for the evening, Elespeth approached Chara’s villa and knocked on the door. At first, there was no answer, so she knocked again, and the second time around, the haughty blonde answered. She looked weary, but not as though she had been sleeping; not yet, anyway. “Chara. Might I come in?”
The Rigas caster murmured something about not caring, either way, and Elespeth expected that that was about as great a confirmation as she would get from Chara. She let herself in and closed the door carefully behind her. “I don’t expect you to listen to me… but I want to say it, just to get it off my chest.” The former knight sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear. “And before you say anything, no, I’m not requesting that I return to stay here. I’m not of the mind to set up residence in your space when the tent I have is perfectly fine. I just want to talk.”
She didn’t even take the liberty to sit down, thinking that Chara would take it as a sign of becoming too comfortable. Instead, she leaned against the wall and folded her arms. “I wasn’t intentionally keeping information from you, Chara--about what happened to Cyprian, and who had caused it. I’ve been bombarded with so much information and different discoveries since I made it my mission to keep a close eye on Mollengard and plot against them. I told you what I thought was most important to help you in your cause. It didn’t occur to me that keeping a detail like that from you would be crucial; obviously, I thought wrong.”
Expelling a sigh through her nose, she glanced downward at the toes of her boots. “What I am trying to say is… you shouldn’t walk away from this plan. We still need you, especially with Atli… since he’s…” For some reason, it bothered her too much to say it out loud, even when the healer’s death had already been established. She hadn’t known him well at all; not beyond what he’d done for Alster and his part in the plan that he was supposed to have enacted along with the rest of them, but she half-considered putting up a grave--even a simple stone--in his memory. The war hadn’t begun, and already, friends were dying. She knew she’d need the closure. “We have fewer people than before,” she concluded after a moment. “We need to stick together in solidarity. Otherwise, Mollengard is counting on that we do not work together. It seems that Solveig, of all people, it setting it up so that we can safely evacuate the city. She doesn’t want it destroyed, because she wants to use it. But if you’re still partial to summoning that tidal wave…”
She couldn’t believe what she was about to say. Maybe she’s right; I am a hyprocrite… “I spoke with Teselin; about Hadwin’s suggestion. Using the Devil’s draught as a way to make use of her powers, in the absence of her emotions and fear getting in the way. I gave her the full rundown, all of the details, good and bad… she agreed to it. If it comes to that.” The Atvanian warrior lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “She wants to help you, Chara. She believes in you and your cause. And if that is her belief, and her desire, then far be it from me to tell her to do otherwise. That is, if you’re still set on that plan. Which might be necessary to at least delay Mollengard’s retaliation, even if Solveig is paving the way for us to pursue this suspiciously seamlessly…”
Folding her arms across her chest, Elespeth looked up. “I haven’t been the best of myself, without Alster here, admittedly.” She confessed. “It’s hard for Stella D’Mare to feel like a home to me, without him. But I know what it means to him, and so, like you, I will do whatever it takes to protect it. I… shouldn’t have assumed that you did not care for Teselin’s well-being, simply because you sought her abilities. I’ve seen you show compassion to even the most unlikely people; myself included. So let’s actually work together on this. Without your sway, there is little that can be done.”
Finally feeling depleted of words (and all the lighter, because of it), the former knight pushed away from the wall and moved for the door, again. “I’ll be keeping a close eye on Mollengard’s movements; but stay cautious. If they suspect that we are keeping Hadwin here, then they might try to infiltrate.”
With a final nod, Elespeth left Chara to retire to bed, not expecting any genuine “good nights”. But at least she’d made an attempt to clear the air… yet again. And, as it seemed to go with the two of them, it likely wouldn’t be the last time.
How Vega managed to sleep at all, that evening, was nothing less of a miracle. Forsaking her duties to the Festival of Equinox for the remainder of the day, she spent most of it sobbing in Haraldur’s arms, about how unfair everything was. That they had been awarded such an uncanny miracle, only to have it threatened to fade away; how she had been so careful, playing everything by the book and doing everything right (to the point where she’d confided in Grandmother Alta, who pointed her in the direction of the right library books to find out what she needed to know). Yet none of it, not even her newly-strengthened heartbeat, or the warmth that spread throughout her body, or the Sybaian healer’s promise that she would not let anything happen to her or her unborn children, gave her any semblance of reassurance. Much later, she worried into the night, wrapped in warm blankets and in Haraldur’s arms. Haraldur, who had said so little after Elias and Daphni delivered the bad news, but whom she knew was just as terrified for the potential loss. He said nothing, because there was nothing to communicate. They both knew the risks, were both terrified; and all that they could do was be there for one another.
At some point, very late that night, the Skyknight Commander must have succumbed to exhaustion, because she began to dream… and, mercifully, it was a pleasant one.
Vega found herself atop a cliff, overlooking Eyraille in all of its beauty, the sky clear and the land beyond lush and healthy. A view that she recognized--that she visited in life, in fact, many a time--that always brought her a deep sense of peace. For a moment, she found herself able to put aside her concerns: of Mollengard, of Eyraille’s longevity, of her pregnancy and her future with Haraldur. Everything was as it should be, even if only in that moment…
She didn’t notice the death, that still lurked. The inky cracks around the brightness of the scenery, like an oil painting that had aged too rapidly over time… They weren’t visible to her. Then again, few were able to perceive the darkness that dwelt inside of them.
And then she turned at the sound of a familiar voice. The Skyknight’s azure eyes widened at the sight of an old friend: Alster Rigas. An apparition, yet as real as night and day. Her breath whooshed from her lungs. “Alster.” Vega smile, and hurried to close the distance between them. “I’m glad to see you’re well. I’m… I wish I could tell you I was the same.” There was no point in hiding it; in lying to the person whose help, according to Daphni Adela, she desperately needed. But something else was on the Rigas Caster’s mind; a reason, a purpose for this visit. The least that she could do was hear him out. “We briefly visited Stella D’Mare and were able to speak with Chara… but only briefly. You were not in the city, at the time… how have you been faring?”
At mention of Elespeth, the Eyraillian’s princess’s memory was jogged with recognition. Earlier that day, the resonance stone had begun to glow… but she had not been in the right mind to answer its call, and eventually, the glow faded. Irresponsible, particularly if Stella D’Mare had been in some sort of dire danger that required their immediate aid... She desperately hoped that was not the case. “Whatever you need, Alster, Eyraille will do its best to provide. Tell me the coordinates, and while I cannot be there to personally find you, I will send one of my trusted Skyknights to do so.”
Vega listened intently to the coordinates, and fortunately, being someone who often navigated by air, it did not seem impossible to find. She was familiar with Braighdath; had flown over the city multiple times in her life. And if Galeyn was only some days off… she could find it. Her rocs and their riders could find it by air. “This is feasible. I’ll send a roc and a rider for Galeyn, come morning; only one, so that the location of the newly found kingdom isn’t compromised.” She promised her friend, with a resolute nod. “But, Alster… while I don’t mean to delay your route to Stella D’Mare, an… issue has arisen, here. One that needs your help. I…” She paused, her throat tightening at the realization of her anxieties returning. “I need your help…”
But before he could respond, his ephemeral form faded. And Vega found herself alone, on the cliffs of a kingdom with a sky that began to grow darker and darker by the second…
While Stella D’Mare and Eyraille navigated their own troubles and turmoils, Galeyn, like a newly bloomed flower, was still continuing to unfold. To pick up the pieces of itself, and to fill in the gaps that the deterioration of its populace had suffered. For one, Lilica had yet to fully recover; and given the time she had lived with her own traumas, many gardeners anticipated that it would be some time before her fever had fully passed. But even in light of her less than optimal state of health, the new monarch of Galeyn had set out to lend a hand to the kingdom that would not be able to lift itself up forever, without some modicum of direction from a leader. She knew she was not much of a leader; had never been in the position to be one, so she did not force herself on the people who seemed hesitant to accept her in Theomyr’s absence. But there was the issue of orphans, whose parents had not awoken from the spell, who needed to find their place--and that, the dark caster took particular, personal interest in. So in the interim, as much as her healing body would allow (alongside constant communication with Alster, Tivia, Sigrid, and even Vitali), Lilica took her first steps as heir of Galeyn’s small, but by no means insignificant throne. And slowly, gradually, she had begun to build a rapport, with the people whom she’d once been so determined to leave.
Vitali’s own recovery, sadly, wasn’t faring much better. As light continually caused him too much pain to remove his blindfold (and Tivia had kindly found him a far more suitable one, which fully nullified any light), he refused to let Alster examine the curious state of his eyes. However, with his left arm still relatively useless, Tivia had finally managed to convince him to let her cousin do what he can for that particular injury. After all, with his recent loss of sight, to which he was still becoming acclimatized, the necromancer’s use of both of his hands was a far more crucial matter than it had been before.
They agreed to meet halfway, one day, between the palace at the heart of the city, and the outskirts, to where Vitali was relatively condemned. Tivia was hesitant to allow it, worrying that drawing too close to the Night Garden would trigger the curse that had nearly killed him, but as it turned out, even halfway, he was still far enough from the Garden’s reach to affect him in any negative way. And, anyway, he was still stubbornly determined to experience more of the kingdom that he would likely never see.
The sound of another horse approaching the small, surrounding village square (at least, that was how Tivia described it to him) got the necromancer’s attention, after waiting nearly an hour for the Rigas caster to arrive. He’d hoped it was Alster; but he needed Tivia to confirm, with she did. “Ah, Alster. Just the person I wanted to see; and here, I never thought I would hear myself say that.” The necromancer chuckled, listening for footsteps advancing in his direction. They stopped at what sounded like some feet away. “I trust Tivia has filled you in on the details? While I am not about to let you anywhere near my eyes… it has come to my attention that life would progress far more easily as a blind man if I had the full use of both of my hands and arms. You did offer to help, once… I was hoping that offer still stands?”
After a pause, he ventured to ask, “And how is my dear sister doing, with this kingdom in her hands? Last we spoke, you and the Dawn Warrior informed me that she was not all too well. Some shenanigans of the Night Garden that I will never understand… On the bright side, unless there’s something I don’t know, it at least hasn’t rendered her blind. Oh, to be the chosen Kristeva offspring.” He chuckled a tad bitterly, but in all honesty, he wouldn’t have wanted to be in Lilica’s shoes, and likely would’ve acted far more destructively than she as a result, had Galeyn chosen him. Luckily, it hadn’t.
After her unprecedented departure from the dungeons, Chara headed straight for her villa, fully intending on having her fill of wine from now until evacuation day. She breezed through the double doors, throwing her coat on the floor and kicking off her boots. They skittered across the marble-tiled floor, a tripping hazard for the next unfortunate person who stepped through the foyer.
Fortunately, she had left a half-drunk bottle of wine on the table before she left that day, saving her a trip to the cellar. Plucking her prize out of its small wicker basket, she popped the cork and suckled the lip of the bottle, as though she were a babe, feeding off her mother's milk.
Lysander caught her in the middle of her "supper," limping out of the hallway on his steel crutches. Spotting him out of her periphery, it was too late to interrupt her steady, vertical guzzling. In shame, and fueled by shame, she continued to drain the bottle dry, with him as her audience. She wanted her father's disapproval. Wanted him to lecture her about the dangers of consumption, and later, to express his concerns for her health. And for her.
But he didn't.
"I know you want to say it," Chara slammed the empty bottle on the table. "Tell me I am on a self-destructive path. That I forsake the ones who are in my care. That I do not trust people who have proven themselves to be trustworthy, out of my own bias. That...I do not try hard enough to brush aside my anger and irrationality. It will be my undoing. I am too immature to rule. Too selfish. Too overeager to destroy what's already been destroyed, including myself. Tell me how you feel." She roared at him. "Tell me!"
But Lysander stood, unmoving, in the hallway. "You already said it, Chara. I don't need to add to your self-diatribe. That is not what you need, right now." He hobbled out of the dark hallway, into the half-lit dining area where Chara resided. The chandelier overhead, with its white-blue flames, bathed the two in the ethereal light of its celestial namesake. "I haven't said much to you. Or to anyone, lately. Maybe I'm getting on in years. Or maybe I have not yet moved on from what has happened to this city..." he looked down at his inoperative legs, "or to me, though I do not blame your dark mage companion. Instead of treating you as a daughter these past months, I have been treating you as the leader of our people, primarily...because I thought you wanted me as your subject, not as your father. But," he fell into a regretful sigh, "perhaps I was wrong. You needed support, and I was too self-involved to notice, until these past few days. And even then, I did not speak my doubts. I have failed you as a father...again." He bowed his head like a penitent before Judgment incarnate, his face ghostly in the pale flames. "I do not deserve your forgiveness this time."
But barely before he enunciated the last word, Chara had taken him, carefully, into her arms. And she sobbed in them. "I need you as a father now," she sputtered, tightening her hold on him, until he began to teeter and lose his balance on his crutches. Realizing her mistake, she broke free of him, and tearfully helped him into a nearby chair. "I don't need another subject, Papa," her hands massaged the arm of his chair, too undeserving to attempt physical contact. "It's too...isolating. There is nobody here for me, if they're all beneath. But I put them there, myself. I step on them all. I'm isolated because I isolate!"
"Come here," Lysander said, gently. When she knelt at his chair-side, he placed a comforting hand on the backs of her shoulders, sweeping away the stray hairs that clung to her neck. "We are both at fault, Chara. Like father, like daughter, I suppose." A brief laugh burbled from his lips. "You inherited many of my traits. Ambitious, too prideful to seek help, and too...well, intense. People will follow you, Chara. But you have to allow them to. Not force them to. That was a lesson that I, too, needed to learn, in my youth. And it was why I resigned from my station of power. It was...warping me into a creature I did not wish to become. But you," he moved his hand to below her chin, and tilted it towards him, "you can handle it. You can."
Before she could respond to him, a sound knock thumped at her door. "Go on. Answer it," Lysander said, encouragingly. "It must be important, at this hour."
Chara rose to her feet and, after wiping away her tears with the end of the sleeve, strode over to the door--and cursed, loudly, when she stumbled over her loose boot in the foyer. Punting them aside with renewed anger, she opened the door, and found Elespeth standing on the other side.
"Elespeth," she said, her energy draining with every syllable. She was in no mood for an antagonizing presence. No mood to hear about her moral shortcomings, the horribleness of her character, and her contemptible deeds, even in something as simple as breathing--which she was certain the warrior would indict her for, next!
"Yes, do come in," she said, with an enthusiasm to rival the dead. She opened the door wide and invited Elespeth inside. Lysander called to her in greeting, from his spot on the chair, but said nothing more, figuring this was a moment between the two of them expressly. "What do you need?" As Elespeth found a place of comfort...against the wall by the foyer, Chara listened to her speech filled with apology and reconciliation, words she'd dismiss as insincere, or not worthy of her prestige. Earlier that day, she might have scoffed at them, especially as they issued from Elespeth's mouth. But with all that happened in the course of several hours, including the moment between her father that the warrior had interrupted (though she was not at fault...for once), Chara accepted her diplomacy with a small, curt nod.
"It has been done. There is no longer any need for me to expend my energy on a past transgression," she said, with the flippant toss of her hand. "But I have not walked away from this plan. I will evacuate my people, as was my established part of the arrangement. You, the mongrel, and Haraldur, can divvy out your roles in detail, without me. Now that you have the resonance stone, it will be easier for you to speak with him. As for Teselin..." When the warrior explained that she had spoken to the young summoner, who agreed to use the devil's draught, Chara nodded, but did not show a preference, one way or another. "If that is what she desires...I shall speak with her, myself, in the morning."
"But," a seed of doubt spat its way out of her mouth, "if Solveig is to let us evacuate without opposition, perhaps it is best that we do so, quietly. If your end of the plan goes awry, Elespeth, we will have made an enemy out of the Forbanne, and they will pursue us, relentlessly. This is no longer a life or death situation as it so seemed, before. We can escape. But," she rubbed at the bottoms of her red eyes, "I will give this matter closer consideration, come morning. You," she hesitated, "you are free to come and go as you please. I know that Stella D'Mare has not been a home to you; it has not been a home to Alster, either. And yet, the two of you have shown more loyalty to it than I daresay I have. Though I do not often praise your efforts, or his," she fell into a formal bow, "I thank you for your services. And I apologize...for being utterly wretched."
Having nothing else to say, Chara opened the door for Elespeth and saw her to the portico outside. When she returned to the dining area, Lysander was grinning from ear to ear. "Now how did that feel, Chara?"
She made a face at him. "Embarrassing. Wipe that inane smile off your face. I need another drink just to bleach away the memory of supplicating to that woman."
I need your help.
Those were the words which Alster awoke to that morning. He still shared a space with Lilica in her chambers; a cot beside her bed, for ease of administering aid to her fever. Though the Gardeners insisted that he rest, he refused to sit idle in Galeyn. To sit idle was to dwell on the beast within himself, to worry incessantly on the fate of Stella D'Mare...and to pine for Elespeth. No. He did not believe in idleness. Indolence is for the worthless, his mother had often preached, during her grueling lesson plans. And you are fast proving yourself to belong in that camp.
Despite the ongoing pain of his arm, and in spite of his general feelings of hopelessness spurred on by his Serpent bond, Alster had kept busy alongside Lilica, splitting his duties between the Night Garden, and assisting the new Galeyn monarch in matters involving its people. Mainly, he was there for moral support, but he also offered tentative advice, should she choose to follow it. Though he lived more than half of his life in exile, he was raised as a nobleman, and as the son of a diplomat. Chara found his methods to reach a crowd weak and overly fawning, and perhaps it was, when amongst his Rigas kin, whose respect for him was negligible. But outside of Stella D'Mare, nobody knew him, or of his origins. He was not stigmatized. He did not need to apologize for existing. In Galeyn, he was a foreigner, this was true, but he was also accepted as more than Serpent Bane. Ironic, then, that this recognition of his humanity arrived when he had already embraced the Serpent, and lost his humanness.
When he was not helping Lilica, he was either in the library or in the Night Garden, shadowing (with permission) the young Teren, asking questions, but keeping them to a minimum, knowing full well the dangers of his unleashed curiosity. He'd take frequent walks around the premises, breathing the clean air, and whispering to the Garden for guidance. For hope. For a reprieve to the pain. But then he'd rescind his wishes and dejectedly return to the palace proper. Who was he to ask anything of the Garden? He, who had only himself to blame for forging a bond with his literal demon? He didn't deserve help; he was damned.
And yet, the call to help...that was something he could answer.
I need your help.
By his brief evaluation of Vega's dream, he suspected the reason for her request. Death energy pumped strongly in her, still. The gate, which had been wrenched carelessly open by the necromancer's meddling, was too rusted to close. He promised in the past that he would help Vega to close it, once he learned how. But did he know how? Acquisition of his full magical abilities did not equal knowledge of procedure. However...he was scheduled to meet with the necromancer that very afternoon. While it pained him to ask anything of Vitali, the man did owe him, and was in no position to withhold information if he wanted his arm healed.
As arranged, Alster set off on his steed from the heart of Galeyn. While in daylight hours, where it trudged along at a normal pace, he reached the rendezvous point within two hours, which was good time, considering that fast travel would agitate his arm too much. Dismounting from his horse and hefting his bag, which contained medical supplies, he gave coin to a nearby stable-boy to house his steed in the corral at the square. Once the clopping of hooves transitioned from cobblestone to the dampened hay of the barn, Alster stepped towards Tivia and Vitali, who were sitting on the lip of an inactive fountain.
"I can't say I reserve the same eagerness for your company," Alster deadpanned, when Vitali had effused his greetings.
"If you had any doubt it was Alster before, now you know," Tivia said, kicking her legs against the stone base of the fountain. "Never thought his disinterest would be a major indicator for his arrival."
"It's not disinterest; I'm here, aren't I?" Alerting the necromancer to his proximity, Alster sat on the lip beside him, and removed his steel prosthesis from its sling. "I'm going to take hold of your arm," he warned. Together with his warm flesh hand and his cold steel hand, he lifted the dead weight, observing the nasty scarring along a major nerve point. "Your sister is still suffering her fever, but she's keeping active in the affairs of the kingdom." His fingers ran a careful trail down his arm in a light healing pulse. "She's making an admirable effort to connect to the Galeyn people. Far better suited for the position than a certain Night Garden reject."
"You are not holding back today, Alster."
"Perhaps not," he muttered. "So," he gently set Vitali's arm across his lap, "I've assessed the damage. Good news is that it will heal on its own. As a peripheral nerve injury, it has the capability to regenerate over time. If we leave it alone, it will mend itself. But I may be able to expedite the process by siphoning the dead tissue with my chthonic magic, putting it on a better path to healing. Some may call that necromancy," his smile was a dry one, and could be heard in his equally dry voice. "So I will do this for you, Vitali. But first, I need you to do something for me."
Tivia looked askance at Alster, her one eye squinting with suspicion...and interest. "That's untoward of you."
"I don't care," he said, dismissively. "I just made contact with Vega Sorde. Her dream state was floating with the essence of death. She besought my help. The gate that you opened, on your ill-fated foray that cost her the life of her roc, is still active...and appears to be worsening. Tell me how to close the gate. I'll be of better help to her if I actually know what I'm doing."
