The Reckoning (short story)
Title: The Reckoning
Author: Rohese Bayvel-Timbertree
First published on the 15th day of Charlatos in the year 5122
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Following on from her last journal entitled the Search for the Truth, this is a repository of vignettes around Rohese's continued story - her Udienaeun - and her relationship with her estranged sister, Poladra.
Prologue
"It all begins and ends in your mind. What you give power to, has the power over you, if you allow it."
It had all started with a curse.
Poladra hadn't meant to hurt Rohese quite so profoundly. She had lashed out but who could blame her. To have your fiancé declare his love for another on your wedding day was enough to anger anyone; for it to be your own sister was the cruellest blow of all.
Admittedly, Rohese had claimed to have been oblivious and, in hindsight, that was probably true. Rohese had always been the naive one, something that Poladra often used to her advantage. As children, they had bickered like all sisters are wont to do but, on the whole, they had been quite amicable. Rohese had resented how close her elder sibling had been to their father though. He didn't actually play favourites; he merely had more interest in the arcane arts than the spiritual.
Poladra paced her small room, her heels clicking against the bare stone floor. The term "room" was probably an exaggeration. It was more of a cell furnished with a cot, a single blanket and a rickety stand, on which stood a jug of tepid water for bathing. The only redeeming feature about the confined space was the window that overlooked a cobbled courtyard and the fact that the door was ajar. Poladra's movements were no longer restricted and she was free to come and go at will.
The witch had spent the last 25 years striving to understand and perfect her magical power in this place, hiding from Elven society while she wrestled with her conscience and desire to learn more. She stood at the window and stared at the moons in the night sky. Another Lornon's Eve had come and gone and she was still unable to harness the Dark Moon's potent energy. Three months on and she had finally learned something that brought that possibility closer.
Word had reached her that Rohese had come into possession of their grandmother's ring. The Day of Zelia's Warning was only weeks away; it was time.
It Begins
Rohese slipped her trowel into the trug to the side and rose to her feet with a weary sigh. Pulling the muddy gloves from her hands, she lay them on top of the gardening tools and grimaced at the state of her pinafore. The soil-stained hem was testament to her efforts that morning in the manse garden. Spring was in the air and Rohese was conscious that there was still so much to do to prepare and she couldn't leave it all to Hosta, House Sylvanfair's dedicated gardener of many years.
The birds in the nearby trees were in full voice; their melodic song was enough to drive away any sense of melancholy and Rohese felt her spirits lift as she took in the freshly tilled soil and array of tender green seedlings around her.
The sun was low in the west. Mirkk would hopefully be home soon from another day out helping the Mirror's Steward to track down poachers. Rohese would just have time to change if she headed in now. She giggled to herself at the thought of being caught in her gardening apparel and it reminded her of the time Mirkk had arrived at the Ailanthus Manor a year ago in his fishing gear.
Pausing at the door into the manse, Rohese picked a few sprigs of lilac and added them to the trug; a vase or two would brighten up the place. On entering, she noticed that a couple of unopened letters had been left on the table. Normally they would be opened and those needing her attention would be deposited on her desk in the Solar but everyone had been so busy with their other chores today. One envelope in particular caught her eye; the penmanship was familiar and it caused her to drop the trug with a clatter, spilling its contents all over the floor.
Rohese tentatively cracked the wax seal and pulled out a single sheet of parchment. The colour drained from her cheeks and she sank onto the bench with her hand pressed against the scar on her throat. Time seemed to stop and then speed up rapidly as she re-read the two lines of text. With shaking hands, she quickly crumpled it up and threw it into the stove along with the envelope, where she watched it curl and blacken into nothing but ash.
The irony was not lost on her as she recalled the contents of the letter.
"Enjoy your kisses while you may. Soon it will all be ashes in your mouth."
Fear of the Dark
The pitter-patter of rain outside was relentless. Rohese usually found rainfall to be comforting, especially at night, but there was something about this storm over Mist Harbor that was unsettling in its perpetuity. Turning over in her sleep, Rohese stirred as she felt something brush against her cheek. She smiled to herself - assuming it was Mirkk kissing her - but the sensation built in pressure as it crept across her face and over her mouth. Wild thoughts flashed through her mind. Was he trying to silence her or...suffocate her?
Rohese opened her eyes to try and discern what was happening but was faced with pitch blackness. She could make out nothing in the room, not even the outline of the glass doors that had been illuminated by moonlight earlier that evening. Smothered by the darkness, she lay immobile; locked in stasis by fear. With each attempt at inhalation, the weight of it increased, pressing her downwards. It was as if the bed was yielding beneath her and she was sinking down into a void. In desperation, her hands scrabbled at the sheets as she tried to claw her way to freedom but to no avail; she felt herself slipping into unconsciousness.
A flash of lightning lit up the room, followed by a rumble of thunder.
Mirkk woke with a start to find Rohese sat up in bed. Curled in a tight ball, her arms were locked around her knees with her face buried into them. She was trembling all over and sobbing uncontrollably.
"Rohese!" He exclaimed, pulling her into his arms. "What happened?"
Unable to form coherent words, Rohese merely rocked back and forth. Mirkk held her tightly until she eventually began to relax. Tentatively lifting her head, Rohese looked cautiously around the room. He was shocked to see the terror evident in her eyes.
She had always been afraid of the dark. Her sister used to tease her mercilessly about it, often pushing her into cupboards and holding the door shut until she was reduced to tears and had to plead to be released. Growing up, Rohese had learned to rationalise her fear and live with it, but this...this was a new horror.
"Fear of the Dark" ~ Iron Maiden
Also see: Afraid of the Dark as part of Mirkk's Tale.
Influenced by: What Dreams May Come
Foreboding
Rohese spent the night tossing and turning; almost afraid to go to sleep. The events at the Stumbling Pebble Bar the evening before had unnerved her; beginning with Talinvor's intervention and ending with both Penre's awful death and the revelation of Greth's imposter.
The act of manipulating minds was disturbing enough to Rohese but witnessing Talinvor perform it on mere children crossed a line as far as she was concerned. She and Kothos had shared the same view but both had felt helpless in their aversion of what was unfolding before them. Scanning the many faces in the room, it had been clear that others had also felt uncomfortable. What was it that had prevented them all from intervening? Had Talinvor succeeded in manipulating their minds too?
Thankfully, Kothos had taken the child Reynai under his wing and whisked her away to safety. She made a mental note to offer her assistance to the gentle Brother Blud but first, there was the demise of Greth to come to terms with. Beloved to many, Greth and his bar were the beating heart of Mist Harbor. Rohese struggled to even contemplate his not being there. What of Zofiya? That young lady had been incensed. What was she now capable of given the time she had spent with Socius? And what of Socius? If word reached him, she dreaded to think of the consequences.
Rohese rolled over once more, plumping her pillow in an attempt to try and find some measure of peace or comfort, but to no avail. Her eyes rested on Mirkk who seemed to be struggling with his own inner demons again, given his pained expression. What was it that troubled him so much in his dreams? She brushed aside a lock of hair that had strayed across his face and resigned herself to another sleepless night.
An hour later, as dawn was beginning to make its presence felt, Rohese rose from the bed. She reached for her diary, made a quick entry and brushed aside a solitary tear that had tracked its way down her cheek. There was a heavy sense of foreboding in the air and, try as she might, she was unable to shrug it off.
For some reason, her sister's veiled threats from over two decades ago echoed in her mind:
You will never know what it is to be at peace.
Influenced by: What Dreams May Come
Dissonance
Eairion glanced over at the couch to see Rohese curled up and engrossed in a book. Shifting his gaze slightly, he observed Mirkk at the other end, staring into the hearth where a fire was burning steadily. Despite the early onset of spring, the library still held a chill in the evening and a fire was always welcome.
"You two are very quiet this evening." He remarked casually, rising to refill his glass from the bottle on the nearby table. He tilted the tumbler towards the candle to admire the honey-hued liquid coating its inside surface.
Rohese looked up from her book and smiled warmly at her grandfather. "I'm sorry, I'm just tired.” She glanced at Mirkk with a slight look of apprehension before adding, "I've been busy working on Elanthian Vogue of late."
Mirkk's gaze remained fixed on the lambent flames as he muttered something under his breath about the Steward and poachers.
It was clear from his expression that Eairion did not believe either of them. He was reminded of the letter he had received from his grand-daughter a week ago. "Hiding behind your work, you mean." Eairion retorted and sat back in his chair, facing them.
"Who's going to start?" Eairion's eyes tracked back and forth between the unusually reserved couple.
Rohese lowered her gaze to the open pages of her book and continued to sit in silence. Mirkk reached out to take ahold of one of her hands, squeezing it with a reassuring smile. Looking up, she wiggled her nose at him and rose to her feet.
"Please excuse me, I think I'll have an early night and go to bed."
She kissed Mirkk tenderly on the cheek and he reluctantly let her fingers slide away from his. Both men watched in silence as she left the room, closing the door behind her.
Eairion's gaze turned back to Mirkk.
"Well, would you like to explain what that was all about?"
A robed figure stepped out from the shadow of the trees and stared up at the familiar house with its ivy-strewn gables and arched windows. Seeing the candlelight flicker in one of the upstairs rooms, a knowing smile crossed her gaunt face.
Poladra hadn't been to Nendelomea* in decades but she remembered its layout well. It would seem that their grandfather had granted Rohese and her husband the use of the main suite. It struck her as odd that Eairion let them stay here together, let alone give his approval for their union. She doubted that he would have been quite so easy-going had their grandmother still been in residence. Sahese had not been known for her tolerance of impropriety and a Bayvel marrying outside of the Elven Houses would have caused her some consternation.
Poladra closed her eyes and inhaled deeply of the night air. The dissonance within the walls was palpable, which added to her sense of satisfaction as she thrived on confusion and anxiety. In recent days, she had found that the closer she got to her sister, the more she could feel her pain and this pleased her too.
The clouds drifted across the night sky to reveal the waning Liabo and waxing Lornon moons. How auspicious. Let's hope it mirrors our shifting fortunes. Pushing back the deep hood of her black satin robe, she tilted her face upwards to bathe in the cool luminescence. The white streak in her hair flashed and her waxen skin took on an ethereal glow but it quickly faded. She hissed in frustration at her failure yet again to call down the lucent energy, causing the tiny nacreous humanoid skeleton perched on her shoulder to curl its scorpion tail defensively.
"Hush now," Poladra purred, scratching the back of its neck to soothe the creature. The skeleton relaxed its tail and stretched out its wings, basking in her attention. She whispered a few words to her macabre companion and it nodded vehemently in reply, climbing down from her shoulder and into her hand. Poladra approached the house and watched in wry amusement as it leapt from her grasp to scamper up the ivy vine leading to the candlelit window, where it disappeared from sight.
With a satisfied glance upwards, Poladra twisted her hand sharply and engulfed herself in shadow.
Mirkk rose from the couch and walked across the library to a nearby shelf, his back now to Eairion. His eyes fell on a particular black leather-bound volume, the silver lettering read, Noble Houses of the Turamzzyrian Empire: 4000 to 4499.
"I have a past," he sighed, lowering his gaze. He paused, the only response coming from an acute pop and subsequent crackle of the fireplace. He strode slowly along the long line of books, stopping just before the large curtained windows, a dull light shining through from the moons. His eyes fell upon another volume, bound in rich brown leather, with gold and scarlet script that read Úvanimi, Arauci, a Sancossi.
Turning his head and speaking over his shoulder, he added, "And it isn't all noble. It isn't all virtuous." Mirkk quickly glanced out the window and furrowed his brow as if something had caught his attention. After a moment, with his eyes still fixed on the window, he slowly turned toward Eairion, his gaze at last breaking from the glass panes.
Hesitating, Mirkk cautiously offered, "My lord, I laid bare my blemished soul and I was afraid, for a time, that she would find me wanting." Eairion studied him and nodded somberly.
See: A Haunted Past (short story)
Rohese sat on the edge of the bed and held her head in her hands. It had been a difficult couple of weeks in which they had both suffered from nightmares and Mirkk had struggled to come to terms with his past. Having finally shared it with her, he'd withdrawn completely and the pain this had caused her had been unbearable. Seeing him every day but not being able to reach him had been like a knife wound to the heart yet she'd had to continue on with her duties. Even her glamour had failed to work and she was exhausted from trying to keep up appearances.
Time and patience. No matter how many times she had repeated that mantra to herself, it hadn't really helped. The rift between Mirkk and herself had widened to the extent that she felt all was lost between them and, in desperation, she'd written to her grandfather.
Brother Blud had reassured her that all would be well, given time, but now Eairion knew something was amiss. She regretted sending the letter; in it she had simply stated that she needed some time away and asked if she could come and stay. She had not accounted for the fact that he was far more perceptive than she’d given him credit for. Oh well, what's done is done. She just hoped that Mirkk was now sharing his troubles with him too and reassuring him that they’d managed to work through their problems together.
Feeling a little more at ease, she laid her head down onto the soft pillow and drifted off to sleep just as a tiny skeletal face appeared at the window.
Eairion joined Mirkk at the window and silently refilled both their glasses. The clouds drifted across the star-filled sky, muting the silvery moon glow that had been bathing the extensive lawn. The inky darkness of night descended over the estate once more, as if responding to the change of mood within.
"Come with me." Eairion said, placing the whiskey bottle on a nearby table and heading towards the far end of the library where he paused in front of a portrait that practically filled the wall space.
The face staring out of the canvas was that of a tall elf of indeterminate age although, judging by her countenance, she was not youthful. Her gaze spoke of wisdom and intuition with a hint of torment. The talented artist had seen something in the lady’s demeanour and managed to capture it in the painstakingly applied oils. Silvery white hair cascaded over her shoulders to blend with the free-flowing sleeves of her pale ivory silk gown. The only touch of colour in the pallid portrayal of the noble lady came from the addition a lavender sash draped across her body. Holding it in place at the hip was a Mazarine Blue butterfly pin; a signifier of the flight of small butterflies fluttering around her.
"My Sahese." Eairion remarked, his tone pensive and quiet. "You can see where my grand-daughter gets her beauty from." Taking a sip from his glass, he simply stared at the painting for a few more minutes before resuming his conversation.
"You spoke of a blemished soul and fear of being found wanting; I know something of that pain."
Eairion breathed a heavy sigh. "Now is not the time to tell of it but I wanted you to know that I do understand."
Mirkk glanced between the stately elf at his side and the portrait. Eairion seemed to be unable to take his eyes off his wife. It was clear he was struggling with something but Mirkk was reluctant to press the matter; he had troubles of his own. A pair of perceptive, smoke grey eyes stared back from the canvas, as if questioning why both men were standing before her. Now he understood a little more about her reputation and why Rohese held her in such high regard. Sahese was clearly a lady of significance in the Bayvel family and he hoped that one day Eairion would explain why she had chosen to leave.
Both men simultaneously drained their glasses. The moment felt like a silent tribute to an admired matriarch and lost love. Eairion nodded once. Placing his empty glass next to the whiskey bottle, he left the room without a word or backward glance.
Mirkk plunked his fishing line into the middle of the river. Having anticipated the salmon run for the past six months, he had hoped Eairion would have chosen fly fishing. He was dismayed when the patriarch decided on drift fishing instead, and furthermore insisted on a spot along the river that seemed peculiar. The two stood apart along the bank, though close enough to still occasionally converse.
As the morning crept by, moving toward midday, the mist that covered the Lake of Shadowed Sorrows and often encroached its tributaries began to lift its veil, allowing Mirkk a glimpse across the river into trees beyond. He noticed a well-kept orchard just past the opposite bank. He called to Eairion, inquiring, "Are those..."
"Peach trees," Eairion responded with a slight nod. Mirkk studied the neatly lined trees across the way, noting their strong roots and sturdy trunks.
"They must be quite old," he noted.
"That orchard is over seven hundred years old," Eairion commented. He glanced at Mirkk.
Mirkk watched several workers toiling about at the far end of the orchard. They were barely visible, but he could see them trimming the branches and clearing away fallen limbs and brush. "They're clearing it away? Won't they not be ready for several months?"
Eairion adjusted his fishing line slightly in the smooth flowing water in an effort to catch a prized salmon. "They are," he replied. After a pregnant pause, he added, "Some things – the things you wish to long last – require maintenance. In the case of that orchard, the work is not done when the trees are in bloom and producing wonderful fruit. No, the real work is done when things seem dormant."
Mirkk glanced at the old elf thoughtfully for a moment before returning his gaze to his own fishing line. His eyes wandered back to the stately trees.
With a knowing smile, Eairion continued, "Clearing the brush, the dead branches and the like, it keeps the pests – those things that would eat away at the tree itself – at bay. The hard work is done now, and come late summer and even as far north as Nendelomea, we will have a wonderful harvest. Those trees will be full of succulent peaches, more than you or I could ever enjoy by ourselves."
Mirkk's gaze was fixed upon the orchard, but his thoughts drifted elsewhere. He reflected on the past few weeks and his marriage to Rohese, considering all that Eairion had just offered. After some reflection, he smiled to himself. He decided the fishing trip was fruitful, even if the two did not catch a single salmon that day.
Second Thoughts
Poladra was disappointed. She had learned that her sister and husband were reconciled and, from what she had heard, they seemed to be happier than ever.
It's just a minor setback! Perhaps it's time to reveal myself to my grandfather. Eairion would surely be pleased to see me again, and, as the eldest living Bayvel descendant, Nendelomea would rightfully be mine one day.
The nacreous skeleton in Poladra's hand scampered up her arm and perched atop her shoulder. Lost in thought, she scratched the back of the creature's head and it stretched its wings in satisfaction. At the sound of approaching horses, Poladra turned sharply. Mirkk and Rohese broke through the trees on horseback, the chestnut mare and white filly keeping pace with each other in a steady gallop.
Slinking back into the relative safety of the thicket, the last thing she heard was their laughter as they raced each other along the wide track leading to the house.
On second thoughts, now isn't the time.
The sun was low in the sky, staining it coral pink, as Eairion approached the cobbled stable yard. He paused at the gate and stepped back into the shadows of its stone arch to watch Mirkk take the filly's reins and help Rohese dismount. His concerns about their relationship had been reinforced recently but he was trying not to interfere. He liked Mirkk - the man had made a good impression from the outset - but he loved his grand-daughter. She reminded him so much of his wife and the last thing he wanted was to see her hurt again; she was his last link to Sahese.
Mirkk continued to hold Rohese's gloved hand, pulling her closer to him to exchange kisses and a few whispered words. Eairion was heartened to see that their usual ease with one another had returned and he smiled to himself as they laughed together at some private joke. Anyone watching them couldn’t fail to see how much in love they were.
Not for the first time, he felt a pang of regret at choosing not to attend their wedding last year. It was a mistake and due solely to some foolish stubbornness on his part. Deciding not to interrupt, he walked back to the house; he would meet them there later instead.
With the usual whiskey glass in hand, Eairion stood in front of the large canvas hanging on the wall of his library. He found himself lingering there more and more lately. For years, after his wife had left, he couldn't bring himself to look at her portrait but now it seemed to bring him comfort.
"You would be so proud of her, Sahese." Eairion’s gaze remained fixed on the grey eyes staring back at him. "I'm having second thoughts about my earlier misgivings and I need to find a way to demonstrate my approval of their union."
Hearing the doors to the library open behind him, he turned to see Mirkk and Rohese enter. Having changed from their dusty clothes, they both looked refreshed after their ride to Nendelomea and he greeted them warmly. Rohese looked radiant in her peach velvet gown, the pale chiffon sleeves covering her hands but he could still make out her grandmother's opal ring beneath the sheer fabric. It reminded him of another ring; the one still sitting upstairs in Sahese's jewelry box. Rohese should have that as well.
It was then he decided how he would make amends: he would ask to bear witness to a vow renewal and, as Nendelomea would also be hers one day, it was only right that he should offer to host it here.
Courageous Conversations
Mimini placed the newly uncorked wine bottle and glass next to Eairion, taking a dutiful step back to await her master's response. The fire crackled in the fireplace, sending ember sparks into the room. With an inward sigh, the gnome made a mental note to check the rug in the morning for scorch marks.
Mimini was used to Eairion's long silences. Decades of service as his housekeeper had taught her to be patient. "You may pour, Mimini." Eairion said eventually while continuing to gaze into the fire. Images came and went in the flames, holding his attention; some evoked memories both painful and pleasurable. Mimini poured the wine as instructed and resumed her semi-subservient position. The ruby red liquid glinted in the ambient light as it settled in the glass. Eairion nodded appreciatively and reached for it, enjoying a mouthful of the full-bodied merlot before repeating her name, "Mimini..." He paused for a moment then wistfully added, "It’s quiet here without them, isn't it?"
"Yes, my lord. They do enliven the place, somewhat." She replied, glancing at the wine bottle with wry amusement.
"You've been with us for as long as I can remember." Eairion looked up at his faithful housekeeper. She was more of a friend than a member of the household these days. "I suspect if I asked you to sit, you would refuse, as usual?" Quirking an eyebrow at her, he chuckled at her firm nod of affirmation.
"I have never sat in your presence – or that of my lady – and I do not intend to do so now." Mimini huffed, adding, "I may be old but I am not infirm and I know my place!"
"At least share your thoughts on my grand-daughter's union to...?"
"His name is Mirkk, my lord." Mimini prompted, somewhat defensively.
"I know his name." Eairion snapped back but not with any malicious intent. "I just can't get past his not being of an Elven House."
"They love each other, my lord." She answered carefully, not quite sure what else her master was expecting her to say. "Surely you wish her to be happy?"
Eairion emptied his wine glass in one gulp and replaced it on the table. Mimini promptly stepped forward to refill it. It was then that she noticed he was staring down the room to the portrait hanging on the wall at the far end.
"Sahese is no longer here, my lord." She noted plainly. It was rare that she referred to the lord or lady of the House by name but she felt it was appropriate given the circumstances and it helped to make her point.
"A fact I am constantly aware of." Eairion snapped again. Neither party took offence at the other's responses, both being used to these courageous conversations - as Mimini liked to call them. She knew that Eairion respected her views when it came to contentious decisions and she gave them willingly.
"I am thinking of giving my blessing by hosting a vow renewal here, at Nendelomea." Eairion continued, with a little hesitancy. Looking up at the gnome again, he added, by way of apology, "It will mean a lot of work for you and the staff, of course."
Mimini grinned smugly to herself.
"I think that's a wonderful idea, my lord. Don't you worry about that, we'll manage."
Determining that their conversation had drawn to a close – Eairion having received her approval – she turned to leave the library but not before giving one last piece of advice.
"You should write to Mirkk directly to make the suggestion. It will show good will on your part, don't you think?"
Mimini left Eairion nodding slowly whilst returning his gaze to the fire.
Dusk was approaching, painting the sky over Nendelomea in shades of pink and lilac. From his usual spot at the library window, Eairion watched Mirkk and Rohese approach the house. The couple paused for a moment so that Mirkk could retrieve a stalk of bluebells that Rohese had dropped. With a contemplative breath, Eairion called for his housekeeper, who arrived moments later.
"Mimini, would you ask Mirkk to join me."
"Yes, my lord." Mimini bobbed a dutiful curtsy and, with slow smile touching her lips, turned to do her master's bidding.
"Oh, and Mimini..."
"Yes, my lord?"
"Take that smug look off your face." Eairion added without even a backward glance.
"No, my lord." She quipped and left him muttering to himself.
Mirkk entered shortly afterwards. Resting his fishing rod and tackle box near the door, he joined Eairion at the window, where the pair stood in silence watching the sun setting over the lake. Mirkk was getting used to the venerable elf's gruff demeanor and thoughtful pauses but he was still somewhat apprehensive when alone in his presence. Mimini had made a point of only extending the invitation to him, leaving Rohese to head upstairs for a bath.
"I owe you an apology." Eairion began slowly, extending his hand towards the two armchairs near the fireplace. Both took a seat and Mirkk tilted his head silently in nervous anticipation.
"My wife..." Eairion paused and glanced over his shoulder at the portrait hanging on the far wall whilst idly twisting the wyrwood band on the ring finger of his left hand. "As you know, she left us some time ago. Something, I admit, I am still struggling to come to terms with."
Eairion took a deep breath. "Sahese had a daughter from a previous relationship and it was she who died in 5112, not my wife as I led everyone to believe. Sahese chose to return to the Wyrdeep to be with her grand-daughter and asked that I not to reveal that fact until I felt the time was right. That came last year when Rohese was close to discovering the truth for herself."
Eairion rose and poured two generous measures of whiskey, handing a glass to Mirkk before resuming his seat and continuing. "I met Sahese in the Wyrdeep during - what you term - the First Elven War and she returned to Ta'Illistim with me shortly thereafter." Eairion glanced meaningfully at Mirkk. "I'm sure I don't need to tell you the history." Mirkk nodded in affirmation but elected not to interrupt. "Needless to say, having seen many of her friends die at the hands of the Empire's forces, her...our feelings towards humans were not very...sympathetic."
Mirkk drained the whiskey from his glass in one gulp and lowered his head.
"When Rohese first brought you here and I learned that you were from Bourth, well, you can understand that I had my concerns. I could see she loved you though - that was clear from the outset - and her happiness is my priority. I have also noticed that you wear the white feather so I chose to give you time to prove yourself, which you have done so, several times over." Eairion turned his gaze to Mirkk who was still staring into the empty glass. "Besides, Mimini believes I should give you the benefit of the doubt," he concluded with a wry grin.
"That’s right, I do!" Came a terse voice behind them. Both heads turned sharply to see Mimini lighting the array of candles around the room.
"One day she will realise that I am master of this house and she can't just enter when she feels like it!" Eairion murmured under his breath.
Mirkk laughed softly and winked at the gnome who chuckled to herself.
"And don't forget it's Rohese's name day tomorrow!" Mimini reminded them both as she left the room.
Mirkk grinned slowly and turned his attention back to Eairion, his grin dissolving as he realized Eairion wasn't half as amused as he was – or, at least he hid it well. Eairion's demeanor softened with what Mirkk thought may have been a grin as the elf refilled both glasses. Mirkk moved to drain his glass again, but thought better of it and compromised with a sip and cleared his throat.
"My lord, if I may be honest..." he said as he rose and walked with intent toward the expansive wall filled with books. He took a moment to collect his thoughts before continuing. "I can make allowance for your reservations. Firstly, allow me to say that I accept your apology. I have learned much over the past year – more than I had ever imagined – about the noble elven houses, their internal politics, and their customs."
He walked slowly along the shelves, stopping deliberately in front of a series of black leather-bound volumes with silver writing. He offered, "I do come from Bourth, and I do wear the white feather." His thoughts drifted momentarily to a recent conversation he had with Rohese about Bourth – about Viridian. He glanced at Eairion who watched him intently but said nothing.
Mirkk drained his glass before continuing, "I can tell you all you wish about my childhood, my parents, my memories of Bourth." He studied Eairion's visage as he carefully added, "Of the Wyrdeep." Eairion stoically showed no response.
"What I am afraid I cannot tell you is that which I do not know. And that is of my heritage. My lineage." Mirkk turned back toward the black volumes and purposefully slipped one from its place. Clearing his throat once again, he quietly added, "But if you'll permit me to borrow this particular volume, I may be able to provide us all some answers."
Eairion raised an eyebrow and nodded his approval. There was much about this man that intrigued him and he would clearly have to be patient.
"By all means, borrow whatever books you require. And I hope we will see more of you both in the lead up to your vow renewal, here at Nendelomea."
Midnight found Eairion sat by the window in his own bed chamber. He wasn't tired. Dinner had been pleasant with Mirkk and Rohese chatting excitedly about their vow renewal. Eairion had listened with quiet amusement as they discussed their plans. Nothing more was said of his conversation earlier that evening with Mirkk and he felt more at ease with them both. He would go as far as to say that he enjoyed Mirkk's company.
Eairion slipped the leaf-carved dark brown wyrwood band from his finger. Turning it in his hand, he read the faded inscription inside: "The courage to love will send you to places greater than the stars."
Sighing heavily, he placed it next to the smaller, slender dark brown wyrwood thumb ring in the box on the table. He recalled the inscription on his wife's ring: "For we put the thought of all that we love into all that we are."
Then, with a note of finality, he snapped the lid shut.
Alone
See: Vast Grey Seas
Eairion stood alone at the library window, as he did most nights, staring out across the expanse of lawn stretching down towards the lake. The summer mists were rising from the surface of the limpid water, engulfing the grey sea of grass with their languid silvery tentacles and advancing steadily towards the sanctuary of the house like a spectral leviathan. He was in a pensive mood; everything felt more sinister in the moonlight.
It didn't help that she was there again, in the shadow of the nearby tree, eyes fixed on the upstairs window where Mirkk had retired early for the night. Just like her sister, Poladra bore an uncanny resemblance to his wife. Was this why he still felt a connection to her despite her indefensible actions towards Rohese two decades ago?
A bank of clouds drifted across the moons and, as the ensuing curtain of darkness descended over the estate, he watched his estranged grand-daughter slip out of sight. With a sense of foreboding, he realised it was probably time to discuss it with Mirkk.
The waxing crescent of a silvery Liabo moon hung low in the star-strewn sky, overshadowed somewhat by the first quarter of its sister. Rohese stirred in her sleep and turned to face the window. Bathed in moonlight, she appeared paler than usual as the dream realm reclaimed her.
Counting to ten, Rohese lifted her head from her grass-stained knees and cried out, "Coming, ready or not!" With a rising feeling of dread, she ran around the garden looking in all of the usual hiding places but they were nowhere to be found. Where was everyone?
A summer day faded into a moonless night. Dressed only in a thin cotton shift, Rohese found herself roaming her grandparent's house hand-in-hand with her sister. Poladra enjoyed exploring all the nooks and crannies by candlelight, often venturing into long abandoned rooms. Rohese felt herself pushed through a doorway, which was duly slammed shut behind her and she froze in terror as she heard the "snick" of a key turning in the lock. She was all alone, in the dark.
Struggling against a very real sense of panic, Rohese pulled the blanket to her, holding it up to her face and wept into its soft folds. She had instinctively reached out for Mirkk the moment she had woken from her night terrors but was all alone in bed. For a fleeting moment, she wondered whether the last year hadn’t also been a dream but, with her wedding band clutched tightly against her chest, she felt reassured that he was in fact real – just not there.
Reins in one hand, Eairion signaled to the others behind him to stop. He dismounted with easy grace despite the burden of his years. The riders had left the house early with the intention of reaching their destination by noon and they were making good progress; the copse was the perfect place to stop for a short rest. It was also a good chance to speak with Mirkk before they all got caught up with plans for next month's hunt. Tethering their mounts to nearby trees, the group settled; some simply lying on the grass in the mid-morning sun while others tended to their packs or horses.
Despite being welcomed by the elves, Mirkk felt alone and adrift; he missed Rohese. The brief whispers they had shared a few days ago had lifted his spirits somewhat but he longed for their physical connection. He opted to sit apart from the others for a while, finding a quiet spot in the shade of a tree. With his back against its trunk, he watched Eairion spend a few minutes with each member of the scouting party before heading over to him. He sighed inwardly, knowing that he would have to make polite conversation when he would much rather just get the day over with so he could finish the letter he had started writing to his wife.
"Not much further now," Eairion said, lowering himself to the ground next to Mirkk. Mirkk merely nodded in response.
Eairion took a peach from his pack and offered it to Mirkk.
"Fresh from the orchard," he added lightly but Mirkk shook his head, albeit with a grin.
Eairion retrieved a knife from his ankle sheath and began to slice into the sun-ripened fruit.
"Eairion..." Mirkk said hesitantly, just as the elderly elf also spoke. "Mirkk, there's..."
Mirkk stopped, nodding deferentially to the Bayvel patriarch.
"I was going to ask if Rohese had told you anything about her sister?"
Mirkk turned his gaze to Eairion, an eyebrow raised quizzically.
"A little." Mirkk paused for a moment, unsure about the purpose of the question, before elaborating. "I know about the incident that led to their estrangement, if that's what you mean." Eairion finished his peach, tossing the pit aside and sheathed his knife.
"Poladra was at the house last night." Eairion added, his voice low and without any noticeable inflection.
"Is that who I saw!" Mirkk exhaled, quickly adding. "Why? What does she want?"
Eairion shrugged. "I don't know. I have yet to speak with her but I thought you should be aware."
Mirkk nodded slowly, his thoughts racing through all the possible reasons and scenarios, then tentatively asked, "Does Rohese know she's back?"
"It's possible," Eairion replied carefully. "That's why I was asking because if she had mentioned it to anyone, it would have been you."
Mirkk frowned. "I need to get back to her!" Rising swiftly to his feet, he looked towards his horse and then realised the futility of his snap decision. They were hours away from the house and Rohese wasn't even at home in Ta'Illistim. In fact, he wasn't even sure where she was at this particular moment.
"Sit down." Eairion's voice was barely a whisper but his tone was clear. He had noticed several of the party taking an interest in them following Mirkk's sudden movement and outburst. "She's in no immediate danger and I'm pretty sure Rohese can take care of herself."
Mirkk's grim expression gave Eairion pause for thought. Perhaps he's right to be concerned.
"I just thought you should be aware in the event she shows herself again. Should she do so, I will meet with her...alone."
Eairion's tone had a note of finality to it that left no room argument, much to Mirkk's irritation.
Lazuline
"Poladra. She is here."
Rohese read the four words on the sheet of silver-edged paper again, her mind frantically running through all of her options. She was on the far side of Elanith and it would take most of Feastday to reach the western shore if the prevailing winds were in her favour. Then there was the time it would take to ride east to Ta'Illistim and on to Nendelomea. But what of Mirkk; what happened to prompt such a message? Surely he was still out in the forest with grandfather and his men. She reassured herself that he was not likely to be in any immediate danger. Should they change course and sail south though? Risk the perils of the Southron Sea and Eastern Seaboard to reach home a little sooner? As much as she hated travelling by ship, she would put up with any discomfort if it meant being reunited with him as soon as possible.
A gust of wind carried a stinging spray of cold water over the rail as the boat cut through the vivid blue waters of the Sea of Lazuli. She gasped as the paper was tugged from her hand and watched with dismay as it fell into the sea. Moonlight reflected from its crystalline surface, creating a dazzling brightness. Both moons were full and this brought her a certain amount of comfort. She felt empowered by the presence of both lunar bodies in the star-strewn sky and drew strength from them. She was reminded of her grandmother’s words, "Drink in the Moon. Be Magic." How she longed for the familiar woods of Sylvarraend; to walk barefoot and listen to the trees. To be with Mirkk and simply enjoy each other's company again.
Taking a contemplative breath, she resolved to make haste for the freeport of Solhaven and forgo her promise to see friends. She was now regretting her impromptu visit to the Isle of Graces but it had been lovely to spend time with the Abbess; the sweet lady was in her dotage and Rohese didn't know when she would have the chance to visit again. The Sisters had seemed pleased to see her too and to hear of her good fortune since she had left them. They asked after Ceyrin but Rohese didn't have the heart to tell them of his disappearance so she merely smiled and mentioned his marriage to her best friend.
Determined to get to Mirkk as quickly as possible now, Rohese kept her gaze fixed on the horizon, watching for the first signs of dawn and, with it, the Vornavis coastline.
Poladra let the blue silk slide through her fingers. Her sister's husband clearly enjoyed the finer things in life too. She allowed the shirt sleeve to fall back onto the bed where a few of Mirkk’s garments had been casually discarded in his rush to leave with Eairion that morning. There were hints of Rohese scattered among his belongings too, some of which Poladra recognised immediately.
Her gaze fell on the lazuline glass bottle on the dressing table; it had belonged to their mother. Poladra picked it up, working the stopper loose and sniffing at the contents. The sheer and elusive fragrance haunted her. The subtle sweet florals of moonflower, both light and airy, brought back so many memories. She replaced the perfume bottle with a faint hiss through her clenched teeth. Sitting alongside it was a neatly folded handkerchief embroidered with tiny violets around the letter, "R."
Footsteps on the landing outside gave her pause for thought. It was too soon for explanations. She quickly pocketed the handkerchief and snapped her fingers sharply. Shadowy tendrils rose from the ground and wrapped around Poladra’s legs, quickly engulfing her entire body. The shadows retreated leaving no trace of her, just as Mimini entered the chamber with an armful of freshly laundered linens.
The curve of a dolphin's fin breached the calm lazuline waters, giving a glimpse of the teeming life below the surface. The water rippled in response, spreading outward to tickle at a bed of floating sea kelp nearby. A singular fluffy cloud drifted lazily across the late afternoon sun as the Jolly Silver Wayfarer waited off-shore for a skiff to take Rohese to the North 'Haven Quay. She was impatient to be on her way but tried her best to hide her irritation from the crew. They had worked tirelessly all day to get her here as quickly as possible, skilfully outmanoeuvring the pirates and Krolvin vessels that plagued the open waters.
An hour later, dressed in simple riding clothes, she stepped into the Imperial Courier Office. Nodding respectfully at the post clerk, she enquired after packages in the name of Bayvel and left with two small envelopes. As she made for the stables, she overhead a commotion in the street ahead. Amid the raised voices and scuffles, she caught the reason for the disagreement: Emperor Aurmont Anodheles had apparently rescinded Chaston's Edict. Erring on the side of caution and very conscious of time, Rohese pulled the hood of her coat up to hide her ears and slipped both letters into her pocket as she hurried on her way.
It was only as she mounted Isilme and the stable hand went about his chores that she remembered the two letters. Retrieving the first, she noted the pretty lazuline coloured stamp and wondered where it might have been sent from. As she tore the envelope, she barely noticed the lace-edged handkerchief falling into her lap as the blood drained from her face. She recognised the handwriting on the sheet of vellum now unfolded before her.
"Do you know what it feels like to have your heart broken? To lose someone you love to another? To have their love stolen from you? Perhaps one day, you too will know that pain. To know only tears and suffering. When such an occasion arises, Mirkk would want you to have this."
She glanced down and saw her own monogram on the handkerchief. What did this mean?
Remembering the second letter, she quickly tore the envelope open and scanned the silver-edged paper with relief. Pushing both letters inside her coat, she kicked her heels into Isilme's side and spurred her on -- to home -- to Mirkk. She needed to be there by Volnes morning even if that meant not stopping for sleep.
Times are Changing
Lavender tea has long been thought of as a calming tisane but, for Rohese, it had recently given rise to a certain amount of apprehension. She had done her best to hide it from Mirkk but he knew her too well; despite her light dismissal of the matter, he was sure something in the tea leaves had recently troubled her.
Gazing into a near-empty teacup had become a habit over the years and, on this occasion, a letter "R" formed by some leavings clinging at the edge of her cup had caught her attention. On tilting it to look closer, she had also seen the image of a reversed key. Adepts of tasseography would be quick to point out the obvious reference to Lorminstra's favour and, given the rather threatening tone of the letter she had recently received from her sister, it was no wonder that Rohese was somewhat anxious.
Unbeknownst to Mirkk, she had also suffered from several visions. Spending time with Astraea in the Sylvarraend glade had led to a series of portentous dreams. Each time the tenebrous skeins of slumber overtook her, she was led further into a dreamscape that had become increasingly more sinister. The latest, that of three albatrosses flying across a glimmering open sea had seemed harmless enough until her gaze had lifted to see the twin moons of Liabo and Tilaok casting a red sheen across the morning sky. Before that, a calm lake beneath a star-filled sky torched by a flaring red streak of light on the horizon and a blackened tree stump in a snow-covered glade that fell apart to the touch spreading bits of char everywhere until everything turned black.
Everything was changing. Rohese struggled with change at the best of times but lately it seemed to her as if everything she valued was shifting and this, along with the vagaries of her prescience, added to her unease.
And then there was the matter of the trees. Their walk around the Veythorne Manor grounds earlier in the week had raised more questions than answers. Often, they would wander and commune with the familial dogwood and glowbark but the lack of response on their last walk also worried Rohese.
Did the trees know something? Were they keeping it from her?
Stirring from her latest vision, Rohese pushed herself upright and glanced around nervously. How long had she been asleep this time? She had dreamt of lying in the same plush grass of the glade in which she now sat, gazing up at a moonless night sky starred with tiny pinpricks of light. A mere breath of a breeze, soft and flower-sweetened had brushed her skin and even now she could feel it. A twinkle of starlight had caught her attention as it began falling towards her, glittering all the way. In her dream state, she had reached up to touch it but as soon as the brilliant light had grazed the tip of her finger, it disintegrated, dispersing into a shower of opaline sparks that quickly died off into darkness.
Rohese instinctively placed a hand over her silver shooting star locket. She curled her fingers protectively around it but Mirkk was too far away to sense it. She often referred to him as her shooting star and Poladra’s threat of everything she shared with him becoming ashes in her mouth crossed her mind yet again.
What does it all mean? Was she about to lose everything?
"No!" Eairion's tone made it very clear that he was not happy with Rohese's pronouncement. "Absolutely not."
Rohese sat down next to Mirkk and reached for his hand. She held her husband's gaze for a moment before continuing. "Grandfather, my mind...our minds are made up about this." Rohese squeezed Mirkk's hand gently.
"And you agree with this folly?" Eairion raised an eyebrow in Mirkk's direction. "I do." Mirkk nodded firmly. "We refuse to be parted again so either Rohese joins us on the Hunt next month or I don't participate."
Muttering under his breath, Eairion turned his back on the couple and wandered down the length of the library towards the portrait of his wife on the far wall.
"It seems your grand-daughter has inherited your stubborn streak." Staring up into the smoke grey eyes of the Bayvel matriarch, Eairion raised his wine glass in a mock toast and drained it with a wry smile. "Times are changing, Sahese, and I'm not sure I like it."
Rohese lowered her gaze and closed her eyes, still troubled by her own thoughts. Mirkk, however, breathed a sigh of relief; he had expected Eairion to be more obdurate. "I will keep her safe, I promise." Mirkk stated as Eairion turned to face him. "You had better, young man. I will hold you personally responsible if anything happens to her."
Rohese hesitated a moment but decided it was time to share their other news. She watched Eairion refill his glass from the antique green-tinted glass bottle on the nearby table and resume his contemplation of the portrait. Rising to join him, she in turn gazed up at her grandmother.
"I have something else to discuss with you, grandfather." With her hand resting gently on his arm, Rohese shared the news of the repeal of Chaston's Edict and Mirkk's letter to both the Emperor and Mirror. She watched his face closely, seeing both anger and despair cross it as he listened to her explain that they would both be working towards the goal of liberty, equality, and justice for all in the west. Feeling she had nothing more to lose, she explained how she wished to form the Glimae'den Trust in furtherance of support for both elves and men.
Eairion turned to face Rohese, his expression cold yet questioning. Glancing over her shoulder briefly at Mirkk who was still seated by the hearth, he kept his voice low and spoke in Elven.
"How can you stand before your grandmother in good faith and say that? You know what we lost to the Empire yet you talk to me of equality and justice."
Rohese inclined her head and pointedly held his gaze.
"We have to do this, grandfather. This is about the future, not the past." Lowering her voice so that only Eairion could hear and replying in Elven, "If Mirkk and I are to have a future, we must do this."
Eairion sighed heavily in resignation, bowing his head and nodding slowly.
"As you wish. Do what you both feel is necessary and I will support it but I would remind you of what happened the last time you made it your mission to help those in the west."
Rohese nodded and reverted to the Common tongue. "This time, I am not alone though."
Both elves turned to look at Mirkk who had been watching them closely.
Reunion
Poladra seated herself in the armchair, crossing her legs gracefully at the ankles and folding her hands in her lap. It hadn't escaped Eairion's notice that her every gesture seemed to mirror that of her sibling and he wondered if it was on purpose. He sat himself across from her, taking in the pallor of her skin and shadows around her eyes; the decades had not been kind to her.
"It's been a while, grandfather." She noted, as if responding directly to his thoughts. Her tone was low and flat, lacking any inflection. Everything about her posture and demeanor was measured and Eairion found the whole encounter to be rather disconcerting.
"I suppose I should begin," she said with a slight smile playing across her thin lips. Eairion merely nodded. In truth, he wasn't even sure where to start so he just let her speak. He was also reluctant to let her see how uneasy her reappearance had made him feel. Eairion had deliberately avoided mentioning anything to Rohese and Mirkk during their most recent stay, especially since their conversations that weekend had been somewhat strained anyway. The last thing he wanted to do was give Rohese more to worry about. Although he was fairly sure that Mirkk would have shared their conversation during the scouting trip earlier in the month, so Rohese was likely prepared for news of her sister's invitation into Nendelomea.
Poladra savoured the awkward silence that seemed to hang heavily in the air. She observed her grandfather mesh his fingers together in his lap so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
"I believe that I am still a member of this family." More of a statement than a question, Poladra tilted her head slightly and raised an eyebrow for added effect. She paused again to await a response from her grandfather.
With a sigh, Eairion nodded faintly. "Yes, Poladra, you are still a Bayvel, you are still my grand-daughter, and you are welcome here." Fixing his gaze upon her, he leant forward and firmly added, "Yet, I will point out that if you are intent on hurting your sister again, then that welcome will be withdrawn."
Poladra laughed. Eairion's skin prickled as he realised her mirth lacked any real sense of emotion.
"Why would I wish to do that? From what I've seen and heard, Rohese is quite capable of getting herself into difficulty or putting herself in harm's way without my help."
"So, what is your intention?" The directness of Eairion's question amused her too.
"My intention? Why grandfather, I merely wish to remind you all that I am a Bayvel. And with grandmother no longer with us, I can only assume that I am the rightful owner of..." Poladra cast her eye around the library and settled on the portrait on the far wall.
Eairion sat back into his armchair again and crossed his leg horizontally across his knee. With his fingers now steepled, he regarded Poladra with a steady gaze and cautiously replied, "I see."
The silence was broken this time by Mimini entering with a tea tray, which she wordlessly placed on the low table between them. Deliberately avoiding Poladra's gaze, she went to leave but stopped at the threshold as the treacherous elf spoke to her.
"Chamomile, I hope, Mimini?" Mimini slowly turned on her heel to fix Poladra with a withering look but noticed her master nod curtly towards the door so withdrew without saying a word.
"Have you nothing to say about what you did?" Eairion pointedly asked, deciding it was time to address the issue.
"What I did?" Poladra calmly poured herself a cup of the tea. "What I did was merely teach my sister a lesson in humility. She seems to have recovered from it quite remarkably from all accounts. Some might even argue that she is improved for it."
Eairion's knuckles whitened again as Poladra sipped slowly from her cup. He noticed a certain sharpness to her features as the fading daylight through the window cast a shadow across her.
"One might also say that I am in fact the injured party. Was I not denied a marriage into a prominent elven family because of her? Have I not spent the last two decades paying the price for my...little outburst," she smirked, "...while she has enjoyed the love and attention of everyone around her? Two husbands, I believe, and this latest one is not even of an elven house!”
"Enough, Poladra." Eairion snapped rising to his feet and moving to stand at the window with his back to her. Watching the sun sink behind the grove of linden trees that his wife, Sahese, had favored, he heard Poladra replace her empty teacup onto the saucer. He took a deep breath and turned to face her again just as she too rose from her chair.
"I don't know what you expect of me, Poladra. It is not in my gift to forgive you; that is up to Rohese. It is also not for me to say that Sahese's ring rightly belongs to you; that was up to your grandmother and she made it quite clear who should now bear it. What I will say is that I will continue to allow you to come here if you can give me your assurance that you do not mean to hurt your sister."
"There is nothing to forgive, I did nothing wrong." Poladra said plainly, smoothing the wrinkles in her gown. "As for grandmother's ring, it should be mine and it will be mine."
"Then we have nothing more to say to one another." Eairion replied, escorting her into the hallway. Opening the front door, he watched her step out into the twilight.
"I shall see you soon, grandfather."
Eairion watched Poladra descend the steps and disappear with a snap of her fingers. He closed the door and turned to see Mimini glaring at him with her arms akimbo.
A sense of serenity blanketed the glade, undisturbed by the drifting breeze that danced around the surrounding trees. Stepping into the circle of twelve stones, the unicorn tentatively approached Rohese, her immaculate white coat shimmering in the silvery moonlight. The unicorn whinnied softly and touched her gold horn affectionately to Rohese's forehead.
Overtaken by the tenebrous skeins of slumber, Rohese's body slumped into stillness against the limestone altar while her mind once again traversed the broad pathways of a dreamscape.
The silver mists parted to reveal a similar moonlit glade. The grass was cool and cushioned beneath her bare feet, and the scent of crushed green wafted up in gentle breaths around her. Each step took her closer to a luminescent figure standing motionless at the edge of the trees. The nearer she drew, the brighter the light, and she paused to shield her eyes against the glare.
Mere moments later, a soft voice whispered in her ear, one treasured and lost to the past, and Rohese smiled as she felt the press of a warm palm against her cheek.
"Amma?" she ventured.
"Yes, my child." The image of Rohese's grandmother wavered slightly on the breeze. "I am here for a mere moment to tell you that you need to be careful. Your sister seeks my ring and will likely do all she can to possess it."
Rohese sank to her knees in the dew-laden grass and twisted the opal ring fretfully around her finger.
"I can’t face her, Amma. She has threatened to destroy everything I have with Mirkk."
"Yes, you can, and if you both truly love each other, nothing can destroy it."
"I can't...I can't lose him!" Rohese repeated, burying her head in her hands.
"Stand up, Rohese. You are no longer a child fearful of every shadow." Sahese spoke firmly but adopted a gentler tone as she added, "I will be watching."
A fleeting kiss against her forehead was followed by a whisper of soft feathers. Rohese opened her eyes to see her grandmother's form shimmer and shift into a snowy owl that took flight and disappeared in a flash of brilliant white light. The deep lassitude that had overtaken Rohese abated, and she found herself slowly waking. Feeling a gentle tug on her sleeve, she looked behind her to see Astraea nudging at her arm.
The Doll
The room was all too familiar. It felt like a shrine to a long-forgotten childhood as a lot of the toys hadn't been played with for over a century but still seemed to be waiting for attention. Dolls were seated around a low table in the middle of the room, all dressed appropriately with a small porcelain tea set placed ready for serving. Poladra sneered with contempt as her gaze fell upon a group of whimsical ponies arranged around a slatted wooden stable in the corner and the puppet theatre with marionettes tidily suspended from the shelf above. Everything was neat and tidy; just as her sister had left it.
She ran her finger along the spines of the books stacked on the book shelves, all organised by size and subject matter. Rohese's fastidiousness used to irritate her but now she just found it amusing; it made her predictable and easier to manipulate.
A noise outside in the hallway gave Poladra pause for thought. It was unlikely anyone would enter and find her here but she needed to be cautious. The last encounter with her grandfather had not ended well and she doubted her presence would be welcome in the house but she took pleasure in dropping in uninvited at Nendelomea from time to time. Finding herself in Rohese's old bedroom on this occasion had given her an idea.
She lifted one of the cloth porcelain-faced dolls from their seat at the tea table. You will do. A malicious smile played across her thin lips as the idea took shape and she looked around the room for something that would serve as a direct connection to either Rohese or her husband but there was no sense of their presence in here. Dare she risk crossing the hallway to their bedchamber? A delicious thrill ran down her spine at the prospect of being caught but it merely fuelled her intent.
Opening the door, she stepped out and headed quickly down the carpeted hallway to the double doors at the end. Slipping inside, she instantly felt their presence and reeled from the overwhelming sensation of joy and the wave of nausea that came with it. There appeared to be all sorts of apparel and personal items scattered around the room but all she needed was a scarf or cravat. It didn't take her long to find a length of silk in one of the dresser drawers, which she slipped into her bag along with the doll. With a final satisfied glance around and a snap of her fingers, she faded into blackness just as Mimini entered the chamber on her usual daily round of housekeeping checks.
Mimini stopped in her tracks at the open door, questioning what she had just witnessed. The smoky shadow dissipated quickly but left behind a lingering scent of mournbloom. It evoked a memory of a perfume that she had not sensed in decades; not since Rohese's mother had passed. Poladra? She wouldn't dare? Mimini checked herself; nothing about that young witch surprised her anymore.
"What are you up to now, Miss." Mimini muttered to herself, quickly exiting and making her way downstairs to her master's study. Eairion needed to be made aware.
No More Secrets
Rohese paused outside the library and took a deep breath. She could hear raised voices inside; those of her husband and her grandfather. In one decisive movement, she opened the door and entered. The two men she loved most in the world turned to face her and she glanced meaningfully between them. Equally stubborn, their hardened expressions took a moment to soften as they both realised that she had heard them arguing.
Eairion's letter summoning Mirkk had been reasonable. His request to come alone and not inform Rohese of its urgent nature, however, was not, and Mirkk needed to settle the matter once and for all. He had categorically reminded Eairion that he would not keep secrets from his wife - no matter how well meaning her grandfather's intentions were – and the exchange had become rather heated.
Rohese had taken more time than usual to choose her outfit for the evening knowing that it would likely be a difficult couple of hours. Her gown was formal; lush midnight velvet with a single floor-length pendant sleeve, and she had asked Mimini to help with braiding her hair. Although it was probably pointless, she needed to look dignified - as if she was in control. She was tired of her family being overprotective - of not taking her seriously - and it was time her voice was heard.
"Rohese." Her grandfather greeted her with a tight smile and curt nod. Mirkk stepped forward to take her hand and kissed it, whispering quietly in her ear. "You look lovely, darling." His compliment brought a smile to her lips; he always managed to disarm her and he did so without ever patronizing her – unlike her grandfather.
"Do continue," she said, inclining her head towards Eairion. "You were saying something about how I wouldn't understand." Eairion blanched and cleared his throat. Struggling to conceal a grin, Mirkk turned away to pour a glass of wine.
Eairion sighed heavily. "I was merely trying to explain to your husband how dangerous Poladra is and that you needed to be protected."
"By keeping me in the dark?" Rohese retorted. "I am simply to stay at home and deal with the housekeeping while you all pretend as if nothing is wrong, is that it?"
Mirkk poured a second glass of wine and handed one wordlessly to Eairion, who accepted it with a grateful nod. Eairion sipped slowly while trying to phrase his response carefully.
"Rohese, you don't know what she's capable of."
"I know better than anyone what she's capable of." Rohese refuted, pointedly holding her grandfather's gaze. She fought against every urge within her to keep her feelings suppressed; every fibre of her being wanted to deny everything that had happened to her. Her voice was quiet, barely audible above the occasional crack of the ember-bright logs in the fire as she finally surrendered.
"I spent decades wondering how and when my sister would torment me; struggling to understand why she took such pleasure in locking me in dark rooms or whispering cruel things in my ear. Hoping my next friend or pet wouldn't be tortured for her amusement and living in constant fear that she would hurt me too. Then, it happened...that dreadful day."
Rohese's fingertips instinctively went to the hollow of her throat and she closed her eyes, murmuring an orison in elven. Mirkk could make out a few words and it startled him to hear her ask for forgiveness.
Eairion had clearly caught it too. "You have nothing to ask for forgiveness for, child!"
Rohese was angry at herself for letting her feelings get the better of her. "I have every reason to ask for forgiveness," she snapped back. "And I am not a child anymore, Adda, I know it was all my fault. Had I told you all earlier then perhaps none of this would have happened. We could have helped her and perhaps mother would still be alive."
"She's right, Eairion."
Everyone turned to see a tall elf cloaked in grey velvet standing in the doorway. She pushed back her hood and smiled; the resemblance to Rohese was uncanny.
"Amma!" Rohese ran over and threw her arms around her grandmother.
Sisters
The ivory orb of Liabo graced the sky, placid and beautiful against the darkness of night. Her shadow-veiled sister, Lornon, hung low on the horizon, brooding over those in slumber.
Selenologists noted the date in their journals: the 18th day of Eoantos in the year 5122, a day when both moons were at the highest energy points in their lunar cycle. Other students and interested observers of Elanthia's celestial bodies also noted that Tilaok, the aptly named Flamedancer, was performing her frenzied dance in concert with her siblings.
Rohese awoke with a start, her dreams disturbed by a silent summons. She pushed herself to a seated position. Bathed in the glow of the silvery white light streaming through the manse window, she felt a surge of energy and an overwhelming desire to step outside and pay homage. With a quick glance at Mirkk to ensure he was still sleeping, she reached for her ivory silk robe and made her way out into the glade. The glassy surface of the pool held the visages of the lunar sisters and she overlaid them with her own as she knelt in reverence at the edge of the pellucid water.
The golden highlights in her white hair glinted in the soft moonlight. She barely noticed the subtle changes in her appearance brought on with each full Liabo moon anymore but it still gave her pause for thought if she happened to catch a glimpse of her reflection. Mirkk was more fascinated in how the ink tracing her spine seemed to be more prominent at the same time and he continued to puzzle over its meaning.
Autumn had claimed most of the leaves from the deciduous trees in the Glydemar but a gentle breeze rustled through the remainder that still clung stubbornly to the overhead branches. Their soothing susurration was akin to a lullaby and Rohese caught herself humming a much-loved song from her childhood.
I see the moons and the moons see me,
Down through the leaves of the old oak tree.
She fondly recalled the summers spent with her grandparents and memories of singing such rhymes in the round with her sister, Poladra. The song took on a new meaning with all that had happened since and she pondered the words more carefully as she continued to sing it to herself.
Please let the light that shines on me,
Shine on the ones I love.
Resting her fingers in the hollow of her throat, brushing them lightly over the faint crescentic scar, she murmured an elven blessing under her breath.
Robed in grey, Poladra stood in the forest clearing, staring up through the leaf-bare oak trees at the two full moons in the sky. The six golden stars of the Lady of the Green also watched over the night but her attention was fixed on the Dark Moon.
The nocturnal sounds of the dense woods around her reminded her of the many evenings spent with her grandmother and sister learning about the night sky and especially the Elanthian moons. A long-forgotten refrain drifted through her mind and caught her off guard. She found herself repeating it despite the uncomfortable emotional reaction it provoked.
Over the mountains, over the sea,
Back where my heart is longing to be.
Clenching her fist, she inhaled sharply as her fingernails broke the skin of her palm. Beads of blood formed beneath them but she continued to press them into the flesh as if relishing the pain.
Please let the light that shines on me,
Shine on the ones I love.
Staring fixedly at Lornon, she waited. Still nothing. The knowledge her grandmother had promised them both when they were young still eluded her.
An owl hooted in the distance and Rohese smiled to herself. She wondered if it was the elf-owl that had taken to following Mirkk around recently or perhaps even her grandmother's snowy owl familiar. She continued to sing the rhyme quietly to herself as she rose to her feet and brushed aside the pale strands of hair that had fallen across her face, tucking them behind her ear.
I hear the owl, the owl hears me,
Singing from the leaves of the old oak tree.
Her thoughts still on her current predicament, she sighed. Idly twisting the pale opal ring on her finger, she made a promise to try and reach out.
Oh, let the owl that sings to me,
Sing to the ones I love.
Like the moons in the sky, she and Poladra were intrinsically connected and she still loved her. They were sisters after all.
The Dark Rising
The 23rd day of Eorgaen
Full Lornon moon
A heavy snow was falling, adding to the fluffy niveous layer already blanketing the landscape around Nendelomea. All was still; the woodland creatures having found shelter before the storm had settled in for the night. All, that is, except for a pale elf faintly illuminated by the full, crimson-streaked moon as she crouched over something on the ground in the wintry gloom.
Poladra pulled a knife from within the folds of her fur mantle and, laying her other hand upon the soft expanse of the stag's stomach, made a deep cut into the flesh with its keen edge. Entrails spilled out in a flood of warm sticky blood, staining the glistening white snow a deep crimson. Quickly working her fingers through the steaming mass, she prized free a fat-laced, fleshy black heart. As she turned it over in her hands, it gave a final thump -- thump and stilled.
Examining it closely, she noticed significant hemorrhaging near the left ventricle and furrowed her brow. Even with her limited skills in haruspicy, she knew this didn't bode well for what she intended but there was no other option; she needed to resort to less elegant methods to achieve her goals. In frustration, she turned her arm wrist-up and squeezed the heart in her hand. Blood seeped through her fingers and dripped into the snow as it began to transform in her grip, the fleshy organ eventually hardening into blackened glaes and breaking one of her fingernails in the process.
The 25th day of Eorgaen
Full Liabo moon
The last day of the Feast of the Immortals was usually a time of frenzied excitement in the Bayvel household. The five days of piety ended with a banquet for family and friends and the kitchen had been bustling with activity since dawn as the final preparations were made. Everyone was somewhat subdued though, as there was still no news of Ipsy – the scullery maid - who had been missing for almost two weeks.
Mirkk and a few of the elven rangers in Eairion's employment had spent the last few days riding around the estate in the hopes of finding the young gnome. Other than a stag partially buried in the snow - seemingly gored by a boar - they had discovered nothing to give them any clue as to her whereabouts.
Rohese entered the kitchen to find Mimini sat alone by the hearth and staring absently into the fire. The elderly housekeeper had been so withdrawn lately, inwardly berating herself for not being more patient with her niece. Mimini felt responsible for her disappearance, convinced that she had come to harm because of her impatience and neglect. She had a duty of care and had failed in that undertaking.
Hearing her mistress clear her throat behind her, Mimini jumped up with a start and began to fuss with the tea things on the large kitchen table.
"Leave that, Mimini," Rohese said gently, resting her hand on the gnome's arm and guiding her away. "I shall see to tea in due course." Mimini sighed and slumped back into the chair.
Rohese knelt on the rug in front of the fire and inclined her head. She gazed into the gnome's weary face and watched helplessly as a solitary tear slipped down her cheek.
"Oh, Mimini." Rohese reached for her hand and squeezed it gently in reassurance. "They will find her. As soon as the snow eases up again, Mirkk and the others will resume their search."
Mimini fished for the handkerchief in her apron pocket and rubbed it across her wan face. Straightening her back, she fixed her gaze on Rohese and nodded brusquely.
"Enough of that silliness now!" Mimini leant forward to place a kiss on Rohese’s forehead. "Your grandfather will be wondering where his tea is and there's still so much to do for this evening."
Mimini rose to her feet and ushered Rohese unceremoniously out of the kitchen, muttering about pies to bake and vegetables to peel. Rohese glanced back over her shoulder to see Mimini rolling up her sleeves and disappearing into the pantry for flour and eggs. With a heavy sigh, she went off in search of Mirkk to see if he had any ideas of where to look next.
The last of the guests left just as the clock in the hallway chimed the Hour of Ronan. Eairion cast his eye wearily over the near-empty platters and half-drained goblets amassed on the dining table.
"It can wait until morning," he mumbled, pinching his nose and regretting his last glass of wine.
Mimini bustled in behind him and raised an eyebrow. "It most certainly cannot wait!"
Eairion chuckled at having been caught off guard by his housekeeper once again and went to help her clear the table but was brushed aside with a dismissive wave of her hand.
"You will only break something. Off to bed with you and let me sort this mess out." Mimini began to stack the plates in an orderly fashion and was soon joined by a few more staff who helped her carry them all away to the scullery.
Eairion nodded appreciatively and left them to it, making a mental note to thank them all in the morning. The evening had been a resounding success and the head of the Bayvel household could go to bed safe in the knowledge that due piety had been observed and festivities conducted appropriately for another year.
He paused at the top of the stairs, allowing his gaze to follow the patterns woven into the thick blue carpet that ran the length of the hallway. For some reason, Sahese had come to mind and he was suddenly reluctant to enter their bed chamber; it only reminded him of how much he missed her. Just as he was about to turn and go back down to the library, the door to the guest suite opened and Rohese stepped out into the hallway. Wearing only a thin shift of white silk, she seemed to glow in the dim light of the candlelit sconces lining the walls. Not noticing her grandfather, she closed the door quietly behind her and headed to the room opposite - that of her old bed chamber - and slipped inside, leaving the door ajar.
Eairion quietly followed but paused at the threshold. He pushed the door open slightly to peer inside and observed Rohese standing at one of the windows, gazing out into the snow-blanketed garden below. Liabo was bright and full, illuminating her in a wash of silvery white light. She was so like her grandmother that it caused Eairion’s heart to ache.
Rohese brushed her shimmering hair away from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. The opal ring on her finger shone as she did so, flashing silver and blue in the ambient light. Eairion watched in awe as she seemed to be absorbing the moonlight. The longer she stood in the window, the brighter she became until she was so dazzling that he had to avert his gaze for a moment.
He wasn't sure how long he stood there with his eyes closed but when he opened them back up and looked into the room again, Rohese had moved away from the window and was gazing fondly at the dolls seated around the low table and books lining the walls. Still glowing, she wandered around the room, lightly touching beloved objects and smiling to herself. Eairion was reminded of the many summers that his two grand-daughters had spent here, the joy and laughter that had filled the house. He was determined to see that harmony was restored between the sisters and resolved in that moment, to reach out to Poladra again.
The 30th day of Eorgaen
Waxing Crescent Liabo and Waning Lornon
Poladra pondered the blackened and broken fingernail for a moment with mild irritation. She ran its jagged edge along the cheek of the young gnome slumped in a chair in the middle of the room, leaving a reddish-pink weal in its wake. The hem of her heavy fur mantle swished across the dusty floor as she slowly circled her captive and bent to whisper in her ear from behind.
"No one is looking for you. I doubt that they've even noticed you are missing with everything going on in the house."
Ipsy whimpered slightly, dazed from both the pain and the cold.
With a cruel sneer, Poladra wandered over to the cobwebbed window that overlooked the frozen lake. Night was descending and its shadowy purple fingers were extending their reach across the black ice towards her. It hadn't escaped her notice that, despite the streaks of crimson swirling across its surface, Lornon was now waning and Liabo was waxing. This would work against her but it was too late now, she was committed. Casting a glance back over her shoulder, she pondered the gnome. No one was likely to stumble across them in the boathouse – especially in this weather - but she couldn’t take any chances and Lornon's Eve was tomorrow.
There were protective wards in place around the main house so Poladra had to find an alternative way to gain access. She needed to sort the matter of her grandmother's book and ring once and for all.
Poladra stepped closer to Ipsy and gripped her bare arm by the wrist, rotating it slightly until the crook of her elbow was visible. Pulling a steel lancet from the pouch hanging on her belt, she hovered the razor-sharp tip over the gnome's exposed skin.
"It's time," she warned with a slight smile but Ipsy didn't respond.
Angling the steel lancet slightly, Poladra pressed the tip deeply into the gnome's tender flesh and watched the blood begin to well up. Once satisfied, she withdrew the blade and carefully placed a small granite bowl beneath it to catch the stream. After a few moments, the rivulet began to slow and a few final drops fell from Ipsy's arm.
Gazing first at Ipsy and then into the contents of the bowl, Poladra rotated it slowly in the palm of one hand, observing the blood lapping against the sides with a critical eye. Would it be enough for her purposes? A thoughtful look crossed her gaunt face for several seconds before she gave a shrug of her shoulder and dipped two fingers into the sanguine liquid, using it to paint a crescent between her eyebrows. Settling the bowl into the palm of her open hand, she adjusted her grip so that the tips of her thumb and fingers rested over the gold pentagrams inlaid into the stone. She then proceeded to walk in a slow circle around her victim, swirling the contents of the bowl to let a drizzle of bright red blood drip over its smooth rim and appear as a thin trail on the ground behind her.
Once completed, Poladra stepped out of the circle and placed the empty bowl to one side. Closing her eyes, she quietly mouthed an incantation. Tendrils of dark grey mist formed on the ground, emanating from the sanguine ring and rising to encompass Ipsy. As the shadows enveloped her, the blood on the floor began to crackle and blacken, the charred flakes turning to ash and dissipating into the air.
Ipsy opened her mouth to cry out but no sound could be heard through the blanket of dense fog now smothering her. With a snap of Poladra's fingers, the shadowy mists vanished along with the gnome.
The 31st day of Eorgaen (Lornon's Eve)
Waxing First Quarter Liabo and Waning Third Quarter Lornon
The morning light was soft and grey and the pristine snow lay thick on the ground; its gently undulating shapes dappled with shadows. Dawn heralded the prospect of better weather, the earlier blizzard now reduced to just a few flurries of snow.
Mimini was the first to rise – as was the norm - and discovered her niece lying on the floor of the scullery in a pool of her own blood. The consummate professional, she put aside her initial shock and dismay and immediately set about tending to the young gnome’s wounds. Ipsy moaned as her aunt's hands quickly worked their magic, applying salves and bandages to the many cuts and bruises. Only when she was sure that Ipsy was no longer in danger from blood loss did she sit her up carefully and begin to administer tinctures, encouraging her to take them one sip at a time.
As the rest of the household stirred, each entering the kitchen to begin their daily chores, Mimini started shouting orders. Blankets were fetched, the fire was fed with more wood, and tea was brewed. It wasn't long before Ipsy was able to sit in a chair and Mimini sat across from her, holding both of her hands with a concerned expression. Ipsy had yet to speak and Mimini was reluctant to press her on what had happened until she had rested.
Later that morning, at Rohese's insistence, Ipsy was taken upstairs and put to bed. Rohese had also persuaded Mimini to leave her niece’s side for a while on the promise that she would sit with her instead. Returning to the kitchen, Mimini distracted herself with her usual duties and ensuring that Eairion's needs were met, even though he was not a particularly demanding master and usually spent most of his day in the library or study.
Ipsy tossed and turned all day but stayed asleep despite having frequent visitors. Mirkk brought cups of tea to Rohese and Mimini stopped by to fuss and fret over the young gnome, needlessly plumping pillows and straightening blankets.
As night fell over Nendelomea, Mirkk insisted that it was time Rohese took a break. Conscious what the night had in store for his wife – being Lornon’s Eve - he offered to sit with Ipsy whilst she took the opportunity to have a bath and relax. Unbeknownst to Rohese, Mirkk had told Eairion that he would watch over Rohese this year, much to her grandfather's relief. Seating himself at the gnome's bed side, he could hear the clock in the hallway chime the eleventh hour just as Rohese closed the door behind her and he exhaled.
Rohese dipped her toe into the milky water; the temperature was perfect. She stepped into the bathtub and lowered herself into its steamy depths, inhaling the soothing scent of eucalyptus on the moisture-laden air. Relaxed by the warm, camphoraceous water, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to sink below the surface. It had been a trying day and she was anxious about the night ahead.
Something subtly shifted in her surroundings and she tensed.
Opening her eyes, Rohese found herself standing in the middle of a dense forest. Tendrils of thick mist crept along the ground, wrapping themselves around her ankles and climbing steadily upwards. Feeling the panic rise in her chest, Rohese attempted to step away but couldn’t move. The fingers of clammy fog continued up towards her neck where they curled around her throat and tightened. She silently screamed into the darkness. As if summoned by her strangled cries, an ethereal stag appeared through the haze, bounding towards her with its antlers low. Just as it reached her, it exploded in a blinding light and vanished before her eyes.
Gasping for breath, Rohese rose from beneath the surface of the bath water and gulped at the air. What could it mean? She quickly glanced around the room and sighed with relief to see all was as it should be. Rising from the bathtub, she wrapped a robe loosely around herself and went over to the window. The snow was falling again and it was so heavy that she could barely see anything but her eye was drawn to the night sky where the waning Lornon moon had reached the zenith of its chaotic flux and was now glowing brightly with a sickly hue.
The Shadow was calling; she could feel the darkness rising within her and strived to suppress it as she tried to do every Lornon's Eve with little success. She pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the window pane and bit down hard on her bottom lip. Her knuckles whitened as she felt the room shift again and clutched desperately at the windowsill.
A voice behind her broke her concentration and she whipped around to see Mirkk standing in the doorway. Her hair flashed with crimson as she launched herself at him and he stumbled back, caught off guard and not sure how to react. With one hand firmly on his chest, Rohese pressed him up against the wall. Gripping Mirkk's chin in her other hand, she held his gaze. He could see that her misty grey eyes were now haloed in red but there was a flash of recognition in them as she stared intently at him. He had returned to her just in time.
The 1st day of Lormesta
Rohese stirred. Wrapped in a tangle of sheets with Mirkk's arm laying heavily across her, she was loath to move. Lornon's Eve had released its hold on her for another year but her senses were still heightened. She lay still, savouring the feel of silk against her bare skin and her husband's familiar scent of evergreens, tobacco, and cloves. Try as she might, she could not recall much after her bath or how the dark shadow had manifested itself in her once more. Odd recollections of a vision lingered at the edge of her memory but the details eluded her. With a reluctant sigh, she opened her eyes and sat up with a start.
Ipsy was standing at the foot of the bed simply staring at Rohese with a vacant expression. Mirkk mumbled something under his breath as Rohese shook him gently to try and get him to wake.
"Ipsy?" she said quietly, wondering if the young gnome was simply sleep walking. Not wishing to startle the scullery maid, Rohese slipped out of bed and reached for her robe. Carefully placing her hand onto Ipsy's arm, she turned the gnome to face her and noticed a strange dark grey mist clouding her eyes. This was more than sleep walking.
"Ipsy?" she repeated, trying to get her attention, but there was still no hint of recognition from the gnome.
Mirkk yawned and stretched his arm out in search of Rohese only to find her side of the bed had been vacated. Looking around sleepily, he sat up in confusion at seeing his wife slowly leading Ipsy towards the door. Rohese placed her finger on her lips to indicate he should not say anything just yet and he nodded faintly.
When Rohese hadn't returned after a few minutes, Mirkk decided to go in search of her. Trying not to feel too concerned about her prolonged absence – they were in Nendelomea after all – he stepped into the hallway and noticed the flicker of candlelight emanating from the room opposite. Pushing the door open, he saw Rohese was standing in the middle of the room, hugging one of the dolls from her childhood. It was only as he stepped towards her that he noticed she was crying.
"What's the matter?" he asked, pulling her into his embrace.
"Do you not hear it?" she replied, wiping away the streaks of tears on her cheeks.
"Hear what, darling?" Mirkk looked around the room with a puzzled expression but it was silent.
"Crying! An infant's cry." Rohese started weeping again. Mirkk turned to his wife and held her tenderly by the arms in front of him.
"There's no baby, Rohese," he said in a quiet, reassuring tone. "At least, not that I can hear." Casting his gaze around once more, he took a firmer approach and added, "Let's get you back to bed and you can tell me what's going on with Ipsy."
Mirkk gently extracted the doll from her arms and replaced it on the seat at the low tea table. Rohese allowed herself to be led away and back to their bed chamber where he guided her back to bed. Brushing his thumb across her cheek, he wiped away the last tear and kissed her tenderly.
"Come on, we'll talk about Ipsy later." Rohese shivered slightly from the chill of the early morning air and Mirkk instinctively pulled her into his arms, holding her until she fell back to sleep.
There would be time to talk about Ipsy when they returned home later that day.
Blood Magic
Nendelomea
Mirkk and Rohese spend a few days at Nendelomea in the spring of 5123
Marick scratched his head in bewilderment as he examined the scorch marks on the wooden floor of the boathouse. Sweeping aside the rest of the dried leaves and dust that had accumulated over the winter, he noticed that the blackened marks formed a ring in the middle of the room.
"I've not seen anything like this since I was a young'un." The old man casually remarked to the boy who was helping him to get the boathouse ready for the warmer months ahead. "Back when the master's family used to spend their summers here."
Casting his eye around the room, he noted that all of the sailing paraphernalia seemed to be in order and the small boats were still securely tied up. Nothing seemed to be missing or out of place.
"Not since that incident in the cave..." he added but stopped mid-sentence. A quick glance over at his young helper currently struggling with the tarpaulins reassured him that he hadn't been listening anyway. He leaned on his broom and pondered the strange markings once more, making a mental note to mention them to the estate manager later.
Ipsy failed to notice the trees laden with blossoms and the spread of brightly colored spring flowers scattered across the verdant lawn. She stared out of the scullery window; her gaze fixed in the direction of the lake. Now that the early morning fog had lifted, it was possible to make out the boathouse in the distance.
"Ipsy." Mimini came up behind her niece and quietly repeated her name. "Ipsy, the water's getting cold."
Ipsy turned slowly with a blank expression on her face, her hands dripping soapy water onto the tiled floor. Mimini noticed a dark grey mist slowly dissipate from her eyes. Giving her aunt a curt nod, the young gnome turned back to the sink and the linens to be washed.
With a heavy sigh, Mimini returned to the kitchen-proper and the preparations for that evening's meal but positioned herself so that she could continue to keep an eye on her ward. It had been three months since Ipsy's disappearance. All of the external wounds and scars had healed a long time ago but the mental trauma was still clearly evident. The unfortunate scullery maid had not spoken a word since her return and still no one knew where she had been or what had happened to her.
Mimini had shared her suspicions with Eairion at the outset. There had been no sign of Poladra since her brief visit to Nendelomea back in Eoantos but Mimini was convinced she was somehow responsible for Ipsy's condition. She muttered some private thoughts about the master's eldest grand-daughter under her breath as she vigorously plucked the birds to be roasted later that day.
Ipsy idly toyed with something in her pocket as she continued to stare vacantly out of the window.
"Have you seen my ring?"
Rohese glanced over her shoulder at Mirkk who was sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling on his boots. She resumed her search, moving the various bottles around the vanity table and peering under it in case it had fallen to the floor.
"I left it here when I bathed this morning but I can't seem to find it."
"Ring?" Mirkk queried, slipping into his waistcoat and rising to join her. Lifting her hand, he noticed her opal ring was missing. "Your grandmother’s ring?"
Rohese nodded and furrowed her brow. "It was right here, I'm sure of it." She shrugged helplessly. "Perhaps Mimini or Ipsy put it somewhere safe when they were tidying earlier. I'll go and ask." She kissed Mirkk lightly on the cheek and added, "I'll see you downstairs for dinner."
Leaving her husband to finish dressing, she left their bed chamber in search of the housekeeper.
Rohese toyed with her herb and flower salad, distractedly pushing her fork around her plate. A conversation with Mimini just before dinner had not solved the mystery of her grandmother's missing ring but the housekeeper reassured her that she would look into the matter immediately.
Mimini entered the dining room with a large silver platter on which were heaped fresh spring vegetables and several roasted birds. Depositing the steaming platter in the middle of the table, she quietly stepped around Eairion at the head of the table and leant in towards Rohese seated to his right. With a discreet cough, the dutiful gnome placed a ring into the elf's hand, curling her fingers around it with a reassuring wink and promptly left the room without a word.
Rohese slipped the ring back onto her finger. Fortunately, her grandfather hadn't noticed its absence. She glanced across the table at Mirkk, her lips curving in a slow, coy fashion. She tilted her hand so that the ring's opal glinted silver and blue in the candlelight. Mirkk returned her smile and nodded slightly in acknowledgement of her obvious relief.
Oblivious to what had just taken place, Eairion looked up from his empty plate and cleared his throat. Now was as good a time as any.
"I was shown something today that I think you should both be aware of."
Mirkk quirked an eyebrow in his direction, his salad-loaded fork paused midway to his mouth. Rohese placed her own fork back onto her plate and inclined her head with a pensive smile.
Doing his utmost to keep his voice steady so as not to cause alarm, Eairion leaned forward to help himself to some of the food set before them. Mimini could always be relied upon to produce a delicious meal; even more so when Rohese and Mirkk came to stay. Lifting a honey-roasted quail onto his plate, along with a few spears of buttered asparagus, Eairion continued before he had the chance to change his mind.
"A couple of estate workers discovered what appears to be evidence of blood magic in the boathouse today." He took a moment to drain his wine glass. "It looks like it happened a few months ago so I'm sure there is nothing to be concerned about but a few of us will be heading out tomorrow to check the area, just in case."
He went on to explain about the scorch marks found on the boathouse floor and how further investigation had revealed splatters of dried blood in the same vicinity.
Rohese blanched, her fingers instinctively resting on the scar in the hollow of her throat. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath before asking pensively, "Will you want Mirkk to go with you?"
Eairion nodded at his grand-daughter. "If he is willing to come with us, yes." Turning to Mirkk, Eairion waited for him to respond.
"Then you should probably head north to the caves first." Rohese added in a tearful murmur just as Mirkk gave Eairion an affirmative nod.
"Caves?" Mirkk's gaze shot to Rohese, his fork still poised in mid-air. "I thought you said there weren't any caves on the estate."
Rohese lowered her eyes and took a quivering breath.
"There is a waterfall about an hour's ride from here with some caves behind it. Poladra and I used to go there with friends from time-to-time until..." Her voice quietened to a mere whisper, "...something happened." Both stared at her but didn't respond. "I’ve never spoken of it before because I was scared of what my sister would do." She hesitated for another moment before finally admitting, "And I was also afraid of what everyone would think of me."
Eairion put his knife and fork down and reached over for Rohese's hand. Taking it into his own, he gave it a firm squeeze and gently urged her to continue. "Go on, child."
"I told you that I knew exactly what she was capable of." Rohese blurted out, tears now streaming down her pale cheeks. Mirkk put down his own fork to extract a linen handkerchief from his pocket and wordlessly handed it to her. He was suddenly reminded of a conversation some months ago when Rohese had made a similar statement, claiming that everything had been her fault because she had never told anyone. He recalled her mentioning "that dreadful day" and how he had assumed – wrongly - that she was referring to the day she had been cursed by her sister. The surprising arrival of Sahese that same evening had cut their conversation short and no more had been said on the matter. He suspected that he and Eairion were about to learn the true meaning behind her reference.
An hour later, with the meal untouched, all three were seated at the dining table in silence. Rohese refused to look at either her husband or her grandfather for fear of what she might see in their eyes. The story she had recounted had left them both shocked but not from her own actions back then – or, more specifically, the lack of them – but rather the fact that she had kept it secret all this time.
Rohese had learned to repress the memory of that dreadful day: how she had watched in terror as Poladra performed a blood magic ritual on one of their friends, who would have died had it not been for the timely arrival of Marick, one of the new young workers on the estate that summer. Infatuated with the Bayvel sisters, Marick had often watched them from afar and, unbeknownst to the group, he had followed them to the waterfall that day. In one of the caverns, he had witnessed Poladra's overzealous bloodletting of an elven boy and interceded just in time to save his life. He had made a pact with Rohese never to speak of it because he had also seen how Poladra liked to persecute her younger sibling and didn't wish any more harm to come to the fairer of the two sisters. What Rohese didn't know was that Marick had taken the exsanguinated elf to Mimini.
Mimini also knew what Poladra was capable of and had recognised the same malevolent injuries in her niece, Ipsy.
Rohese released the bowstring and heard a pleasing *THUNK* as the arrow hit the outer ring of the target. Reaching down to her thigh-quiver for another, she quickly nocked it into her bow and pulled the string taut. Shoulders down. Elbow up. Deep breath. She adjusted her position and loosed the arrow, sighing as it flew beyond the target to land in the grass.
Her whole body ached from the hours spent practicing archery that morning but she relished the pain; it stopped her from thinking about dinner last night. She and Mirkk had barely spoken since, sharing only the general courtesies of the day before he had left to join her grandfather and the scouting party. She was unsure when they were likely to return, so Rohese planned on keeping herself busy and out of the way until bedtime. How could she possibly explain? Even she didn't really understand why she had chosen to stay silent all this time. Then she remembered the pain, the nightmares, and the crippling fear at the hands of her sister.
"Stop thinking about it!" Rohese berated herself, reaching for another arrow only to find the quiver empty. Gathering those that were scattered haphazardly in and around the target, she bundled them up and slipped them into her quiver, pulling the straps tighter around her thigh.
Rohese turned her face to the sun and inhaled the scent of linden blossom with its hint of honey and lemon in an attempt to relax. Memories came flooding back of playing in this grove as a child; her mother scooping her up in her arms and swinging her around. Her father laughing heartily as he chased Poladra around the trees and she squealed with each of his lion-like roars. We were all so happy together; whatever made Poladra choose a different path?
A jingle of bells pulled her back to the present day and Rohese turned towards the nearby perch where her grandfather's beloved gyrfalcon, Silmerana, was tethered. Ghostly white with silvery grey markings, she tossed her head haughtily, as if demanding Rohese's attention. Rohese responded by pulling on her glove and reaching out her arm towards the large bird, who instinctively complied. It took all of Rohese's strength to hold her arm steady as the pale raptor took up position. After a few soothing strokes of the bird’s head, Rohese released the jesses and allowed her to take flight.
Watching the bird of prey climb and silently soar away over the treeline, Rohese felt a sense of loss. How she wished she could fly away too but she quickly dismissed that thought as a childish fantasy. The sun was now high in the cloudless blue sky so Rohese turned her attention back to the challenge of the target. Silmerana would return when she had hunted and fed, in the meantime, there was more practicing to do.
With a long exhalation and a slight roll of her shoulder, she slid a silvery ruic composite bow free and gripped it in her hand. The momentary vision of an ethereal stag standing in front of her caused her to take a step back in surprise but it faded as quickly as it had appeared. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and turned towards the target, mentally preparing herself for a few more hours of frustration and discomfort.
Shoulders down. Elbow up. Deep breath.
The scouting party followed the river upstream for about an hour until it led into a narrow gorge. The steep, craggy slopes on either side were topped with dense modwir and pines preventing most of the early morning light from reaching them. A low, hollow roar filled their ears, confirming the presence of a waterfall somewhere nearby.
It wasn't long before Eairion, Mirkk and the elven rangers reached their destination and dismounted, tethering their horses in a shadowy stand of ancient oaks. Pearlescent white shelf fungi lined the trunks, while their gnarled roots were laden with dark green moss. A waterfall tumbled violently over a rock outcropping high above them, splashing into a small pool that widened and slowed as it flowed over more even ground and turned south. The air was damp with spray and droplets clung to every leaf and stem.
Pulling their cloaks around them to ward off as much of the moisture as possible, the party gathered closely together. Step-like terraces of slick rock peeked out from behind the falls, leading upward and disappearing into the grey mist that hung heavily in the air. Occasional shafts of weak sunlight played off the mist, the silvery haze bathing the scene in a dream-like ambience. The noise of the cascading torrent of water was deafening so Eairion made a few simple hand signals to indicate they should start their search for the cave entrance.
It only took a few minutes for them to find the ledge leading behind the tumult of falling water. Once inside the small alcove, they took a moment to adjust their eyes to the gloom and saw a short tunnel heading downwards on a gentle incline. The tunnel soon opened into a cavern, moist with clinging water vapour. The roar of the waterfall was dulled slightly, allowing other sounds of the subterranean world to be heard. In the darkness, the minute sounds of tiny claws scraping against stone and the occasional flap of batwings overhead became audible.
After lighting a few torches, a quick check of the cavern revealed nothing but crude runic symbols and glyph marks etched on the rough walls. Most had been scored through – presumably by Marick after the ritual he had witnessed – so had long since lost any potency they might have had. A thick layer of silt covered the rocky floor, undisturbed for decades until now by the intruding party's footprints. Water dripped from the ceiling into a small phosphorescent blue-green pool surrounded by an array of stalagmites and stalactites.
"No one has been here in quite some time." Eairion said quietly to Mirkk with a sigh of relief. "And, more importantly, no sign of Poladra."
While Eairion spoke with the rest of the group, Mirkk took the opportunity to explore a little further, noting the fascinating display of rock formations and traces of fungi in the dank hollows. I need to bring Rohese back here. She needs to put aside her awful memories of this place and see its true beauty.
"Let’s head back," Eairion announced, leading the the rangers back up the tunnel towards the curtain of water. With one last look over his shoulder, Mirkk followed them all out into the warm spring sunshine.
Rohese pulled the heavy kitchen garden door closed as gently as she could behind her, relieved that it hadn't been latched for the night. Removing her boots and placing them on the floor next to the door, she went to tiptoe up the back staircase to her bed chamber but jumped with a start as someone behind her spoke.
"What time do you call this?" Mimini rose to her feet and stepped out from the shadows. Putting a kettle onto the stove, the gnome reached for a teacup from the nearby shelf and pointed to the kitchen table. "Sit, young lady."
Rohese sat on the bench as instructed and folded her hands into her lap. With her eyes lowered, she murmured an apology before one was demanded of her.
"I don't need your sorries," Mimini tutted. "I need you to understand that you can't keep running away like this and causing all sorts of worry!"
Placing a cup of herbal tea in front of Rohese, she sat down opposite her at the table and waited. Rohese glanced up, blushing sheepishly and gratefully lifted the teacup to her lips. The twin fragrances of citrusy bergamot and soft lavender comforted her and created a sense of well-being.
"I suppose you’re hungry too," the gnome added with a knowing grin and pushed a plate of freshly baked lemon cookies in her direction. "Out all day with nothing to eat!"
Giving Rohese a few moments to drink her tea and eat her cookie, she spoke again, only this time her voice was quiet and calm.
"You can't live in fear of your sister forever. You are so much stronger now, Rohese."
Rohese exhaled slowly, her shoulders slumping in resignation.
"I know, Mimini." Draining the last of her tea, she carefully placed the cup back onto the table and surreptitiously eyed the plate. Mimini chuckled and pushed it closer still. Rohese helped herself to another cookie and nibbled daintily at its edges.
"The hardest part is over; you've told them about that day." Mimini added, rising to refill Rohese's teacup. Placing it back in front of her, she continued, "Now you just need to trust that your husband and grandfather understand and want to help you."
Rohese nodded faintly, idly toying with the opal ring on her finger. "Mimini..." Biting her lip, she looked up at the gnome and noticed her close her eyes with a sigh. "Yes, Rohese. Ipsy had your ring. Now off to bed with you!"
The finality of the statement made it clear she had no more to say on the matter so Rohese reached for another cookie with a soft giggle and lightly ran to the foot of the staircase. She paused for a moment and looked back but decided against saying anything further as she noticed Mimini roughly wipe away a tear.
"I love you, Mimini," she whispered, finishing her third cookie. She softly tiptoed up the staircase - trying to avoid the creaky steps as best as she could - and into her bedchamber where she quickly undressed and slipped under the bed covers. Mirkk stirred. Pulling her close and wrapping his arms tightly around her, he whispered sleepily against her hair. "Hello you."
Rohese buried her face into his shoulder and felt all of her aches and worries melt away. She always felt so safe in his arms. "I'm sorry," she whispered back. Mirkk lightly kissed the top of her head.
"We'll talk in the morning. Get some sleep."
"Are you sure you want to do this with me?" Mirkk asked warily, stepping through the open door and glancing back at Rohese who had faltered in the hallway. She bit her bottom lip and nodded.
Maintaining the hold on her hand, he encouraged her to follow him into her estranged sister's room. It had been locked for decades – ever since the day Poladra had cursed Rohese – and Mimini had kept hold of the key. Mirkk was determined to learn more about Poladra and what motivated her so he had used all of his charm and persuasive skills on the housekeeper. Mimini had eventually relented and handed over the key but only after extracting a promise that should he find anything that could possibly help Ipsy, he was to share it with her.
Having visited Rohese's own bedchamber several times during their stays at Nendelomea, the contrast in ambience was immediately obvious. There were no soft-coloured fabrics or lingering floral fragrances here; no trace of fond childhood keepsakes such as the elaborately dressed dolls and other whimsical toys that filled the younger sibling's room.
The imposing four-poster bed in this room was crafted from a heavy, dark wood and draped with silvery grey brocade, stiff and cold to the touch. The curtains were pulled back and restrained by silken ebon ribbons that matched the equally stark bed linen. An occasional splash of blue and violet broke up the monochromatic décor but even those touches of colour were overshadowed by the lack of natural light endeavouring to penetrate the partially shuttered windows and push back the gloom.
Mirkk casually picked up one of the bookmarked tomes sitting on the nightstand and examined it briefly. Just holding it made him uncomfortable and he realised with a shudder of revulsion that it was bound in human skin. He quickly dropped the book, turning his back on it and opting instead to look at the sheets of parchment on the nearby desk. Although the writing was indecipherable, his keen eye recognised some familiar runic symbols; they were the same as those he and Eairion had found on the cave walls yesterday.
"Rohese, look at this." Mirkk handed one of the sheets of parchment to his wife. "Do you recognise these symbols?"
Having not moved from the doorway since entering, Rohese reluctantly stepped towards him and accepted the page. She quietly studied it for a moment and nodded slightly. "This is dark magic and should be destroyed." She handed it back to Mirkk with a look of distaste.
Mirkk picked up the remaining sheets from the desk and pocketed them; he would let Mimini know what he had found and see that they were burned afterwards. A shaft of late morning sunlight broke through the gap of the shutters and illuminated a narrow section of the expansive bookshelves against the back wall. It drew Mirkk's gaze and he noticed a series of similarly bound books to the one he had touched on the nightstand. Poladra clearly had a taste for anthropodermic bibliopegy and it was not something he wished to know more about.
"That's enough. Let's go." Taking Rohese by the hand, Mirkk led her decisively from the room and locked the door behind them. "We'll return the key to Mimini."
Curled up in the large leather armchair, Rohese turned the page of her book and continued to read. Mirkk was standing at the window of the library staring out across the lawn towards the lake and wondering when Eairion might suggest they go fishing. He glanced over his shoulder and chuckled to himself; Rohese was clearly engrossed and hadn't heard him.
"It's a lovely afternoon," he repeated. Having returned the key and deposited the pages of arcane symbols discovered in Poladra's room with Mimini for further examination, Mirkk was determined that they should do something more uplifting with the rest of their day.
"Hmm?" Rohese responded this time and turned the page again. "Sorry, sweetheart, what was that?" She looked up, somewhat reluctantly and smiled at Mirkk
"Nothing.” Mirkk grinned at his wife and wandered over to her. Leaning forward, he kissed the top of her head. “Good book?” he inquired, peering over her shoulder at the spread of tiny elven text laid out before him.
Rohese replied with another distracted, “Mmhmm,” and a faint nod.
Mirkk deftly snatched the book from her hand and snapped it shut with a decisive thud.
“Mirkk!" Rohese laughed softly and twisted her body to kneel up in the armchair. She held out her hand. "Give me back my book."
Mirkk shook his head and placed it on a table out of her reach. "We are going out," he announced, pulling her up by the hand and leading her out into the hallway.
"There's a waterfall and some caves that you need to see so we need to change."
Rohese paused and resisted his gentle tug towards the staircase.
Turning towards his hesitant wife, Mirkk gently added, "It's time to put it behind you, darling, and this is the only way."
Mimini pored over the sheets of faded parchment. Her skills at reading arcane symbols were rusty but she was soon able to determine the nature of the spells scrawled across the loose pages.
Muttering under her breath, she glanced up at Ipsy who was washing the lunch dishes in the scullery. The young gnome moved like an automaton; every action was stiff and lacked enthusiasm. Mimini sighed and returned to her study of the dark magic written before her. Perhaps there was a clue in here that could help restore her niece to her former exuberant self.
Poladra screamed in frustration causing the tiny humanoid skeleton perched on her shoulder to thrash its bat wings against her cheek. She grabbed the creature by its scorpion tail and threw it across the room, where it hit the wall and fell to the floor in a dazed heap. Emitting a tiny whimper, the skeleton crawled away into the shadows.
She had come so close to finally possessing her grandmother's ring, only to have it snatched away at the last moment. Seeing through Ipsy's eyes, she had witnessed Mimini confront her and demand its return. Ipsy had failed and she had no further need of the wretched gnome. Murmuring an incantation, she touched two fingers to the fading crescentic burn mark on her forehead.
Moments later, Ipsy dropped to the floor like a rag doll in the Nendelomea scullery and exhaled a dark grey mist.
Rohese slipped through the door, closing it behind her as a clock chimed the Hour of Ronan down in the hallway. Mimini had finished her evening chores and had come to sit with Ipsy. Mirkk had gone to bed a while ago so all was still in the house.
"Rohese?" came a quiet voice from below, calling for her attention. Leaning over the balustrade, she saw her grandfather step into view and beckon for her to follow him to the kitchen.
The cozy space was dimly lit, a few candles burning low in their sconces. Lingering in the air was the earthy scent of wood smoke and faint aroma of roast meat from the evening meal. The fire in the hearth was still smoldering, casting flickering shadows on the rough-plastered walls.
Wordlessly seating herself on the bench, Rohese noted the scoured surface of the large oak table with its clean fragrance of eucalyptus and lemon. She idly traced the grain in the wood with her finger while Eairion warmed some milk, handing her a bowl and joining her with his own.
"We haven't done this in a while," he remarked with a wistful sigh. Rohese reached across the table and gripped his free hand fondly.
"When I couldn’t sleep." She duly responded, remembering the nights as a child when she would wander from her room after a bad dream and join her grandfather by the fire in his library. How she would sit at his feet until he had finished reading and then he would warm some milk for her before tucking her back into bed; sometimes with her grandmother so he could return to his books.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, drinking their milk and watching the embers glow in the banked fire.
"Ipsy?"
Rohese was used to the brevity of Eairion's queries when it concerned uncomfortable matters.
"She'll be fine," Rohese reassured him. "She has some colour in her cheeks again and is sleeping peacefully."
"And you?" Eairion raised an eyebrow in her direction, recalling how Rohese had come close to draining all of her own life force when rushing to help the young gnome earlier that day.
"I'm fine too. A little weak still but nothing a few days rest won't cure." Rohese wrinkled her nose and passed a hand over her pale face.
"Mimini was right then." Eairion murmured gruffly, draining his bowl and adding, "Something needs to be done about your sister."
Rohese nodded faintly, sipping at her bowl while she pondered how to broach the subject of how and when without angering her grandfather.
Eairion lifted his gaze to look at his youngest grand-daughter. It never failed to surprise him how much she looked like his wife, Sahese; especially in this light. He suppressed the urge to be overly protective of Rohese, knowing that it would irritate her if he should say anything. It was time to let go; she had Mirkk now and he was completely trustworthy. And yet, he couldn't simply let her face her sister alone. There was no knowing what Poladra would do now, having failed at all her attempts to possess Sahese's ring or harm Rohese so far.
The faint chime of the clock announced that it was nearly the Hour of Lumnis. Eairion tutted and remarked on it. "I suppose there is no point in going to bed now." Rising to his feet, he turned to Rohese. "But you should probably get some rest. I'll see that no one disturbs you."
Rohese shook her head. "I think I'll go for a ride and clear my mind before Mirkk rises." Eairion was about to object but thought better of it, reminding himself that she was capable of making her own decisions. Mustering all of his self-control, he merely cautioned, "Be careful."
Rohese kissed him lightly on the cheek, noting that it was damp from a tear but said nothing as she headed up the back staircase to change into her riding clothes.
The air was crisp and fresh with the sun peeking over the horizon and casting a warm, golden glow across the familiar landscape. The white filly lifted her head and shook out her flaxen mane impatiently; she was eager to leave the confines of her stall and stretch her legs. Rohese tightened the reins around her gloved hand and nudged the sides of the filly with her heels. The horse responded immediately, trotting obediently through the arched gateway of the stable yard and out into the field.
Urging Isilme forward into a canter and then a gallop, the soft sound of her hooves striking the lush grassy ground sent small animals scattering into the undergrowth. The filly's muscles rippled beneath her as she gracefully moved across the open meadow, her mane and tail streaming in the cool morning breeze. As they crested a small rise, the view opened up, revealing a stunning vista of surrounding countryside. Ancient woodlands and distant snow-capped mountains stretched out before them, bathed in the aurora of the rising sun. The serenity of the moment filled Rohese with a much-needed sense of peace and contentment.
Pushing on at a steady pace for a while, they slowed as the meadow merged into a wood of beeches and oaks alive with the sights and sounds of nature awakening. The air smelt sweet with new foliage and Rohese smiled to herself as she noticed the early signs of bluebells peeking through the bracken.
They followed the meandering trail through the trees and came to a bridge below which a clear slow stream flowed between snowy beds of water buttercups. A little above it and to the right was a mill and the lasher made a pleasant cool sound. It was then that Rohese realised that they had gone further than intended. They had, in fact, reached the village where most of the estate workers lived.
In the distance, she recognised the tavern owned by Marick and his family. She owed that man a debt of gratitude and an apology. He had always looked out for her and kept her secret all these years, much to her shame. Now was not the time though, it was too early and she didn't wish to disturb them. Admiring the scattering of quaint houses around the duck pond and their well-tended gardens, something caught her eye moving in the shadow of the trees at the edge of the village.
Poladra stepped into the pale morning light and pushed back the hood of her robe to look directly at Rohese. Rohese gasped and her hand flew instinctively to the hollow of her throat but she belligerently held her gaze. She was shocked to see how gaunt her sister had become. Her once-bright silver hair was now a dull grey with a stark white streak arching from a widow's peak that only served to accentuate the severe angles of her features. Rohese recalled with dismay how her sister was once hailed as a beauty but something had taken its toll on her. Even from this distance, it was clear that she looked tormented and, despite everything, Rohese felt nothing but sympathy and a reckless desire to reach out.
Seemingly of her own volition, the filly took a few tentative steps towards the dark-robed elf but paused as if sensing Rohese's hesitancy. Rohese lay her hand on the filly's neck, affectionately rubbing her for a moment before patting her reassuringly.
Poladra laughed and curled her finger to beckon her sister closer. Eairion's words of caution echoed in Rohese's mind and she thought of him back at the house with everyone she cared for most in the world. Mimini would never forgive her if she did something foolish and Mirkk...
Shaking her head, Rohese pulled lightly on the reins, leading her filly around in the direction of home. With a final glance over her shoulder, Rohese reluctantly issued a subtle command and Isilme galloped away.
Biblia
Rohese takes advantage of the Library of Biblia on the Isle of Ornath while the Trials of Lumnis are running
Home to a vast repository of knowledge, the Library of Biblia on the Isle of Ornath was renowned for housing countless books, scrolls, and manuscripts on all manner of subjects. The Isle itself was open to visitors for a few more days for the annual Trials of Lumnis and, Mirkk was right, Rohese had no other choice.
Despite her reservations, she needed to learn more about blood magic if she was to understand her sister's motivations and methods and she really couldn't make inquiries about such dark arts at the Library Aies. Given recent events and her own – albeit minimal - involvement in the inquisition around the tragic death of Lady Kasendra Malwind, she couldn't risk raising any suspicions about her actions back in Ta'Illistim. There had been no replies as yet to the letters she had sent to colleagues who could be relied upon for their discretion and she had also come away empty handed from the Guild Library archives, the Mist Harbor Library bookshelves, and the Nendelomea collection.
So, with a sheaf of blank parchment, a fresh bottle of ink, and several new quills in her small case, Rohese walked the length of the wide cypress-lined avenue towards the imposing travertine building* with considerable trepidation. As she entered, the first thing that struck her was the scent of parchment, leather, and beeswax. The vast foyer was dimly lit, with flickering candles casting a soft glow across the polished marble floor. The walls were decorated with tapestries, paintings and maps, each depicting scenes from history or mythology and the niches were filled with sculptures of great loremasters and academics, all hinting at the wealth of knowledge held in the chambers above and below. The room was filled with an eerie silence. She gave an inward sigh of relief at having chosen not to wear shoes that day; even the thought of heeled footfalls echoing around the room caused her to flinch.
Steeling her resolve, Rohese raised her chin slightly and walked purposefully past the pair of guards, the sweeping hem of her robes swishing across the smooth floor. Both cast an apathetic glance in her direction as she waved a scholar’s card nonchalantly in the air and let her continue unchecked to the only occupied desk of five arranged in a curve in the middle of room. The clerk seated on a high stool behind it continued to write in his ledger for a few moments as if he had not noticed her approach. She cleared her throat and smiled timorously at him when he finally deigned to glance up.
"Good morning!" Rohese spoke quietly but with a confidence she didn't really feel. "May I trouble you to direct me to the Hall on arcane arts and blood magic in particular."
Barely registering her enquiry, he dismissively waved his quill in the direction of the East Wing and mumbled something about the ninth floor before returning to his mundane administrative duties. Rohese nodded in appreciation and quickly headed in that direction before the clerk thought to ask for any credentials. She had at least succeeded in gaining entry; now to narrow down her search and find the right section.
Taking the narrow spiral staircase up to the directed floor, Rohese paused at the threshold of the Hall; she suddenly felt dwarfed by the towering bookcases that reached up to the high ceilings as far as the eye could see. All she could hear was the rustling of pages turning and the hushed whispers of scholars and students of lore as they pored over ancient arcane texts.
Slipping her hands into the opposite sleeves of her robe so as to disguise her nervousness, Rohese proceeded to walk down the central aisle in search of a directory or catalog. Her experience with all of the many libraries she had visited had taught her that it was pointless to just peruse shelves in the hope of finding something relevant, one needed to know where to start looking, especially in a repository this extensive. She could be here for months! Slightly thrilled at that prospect, Rohese giggled but quickly checked herself in case anyone noticed and thought her frivolous; the less attention she brought upon herself, the longer she could stay.
Having successfully found the catalog, Rohese then went in search of the relevant section and row headed up with the appropriate runic symbols. Her eyes on the small brass plaques affixed to the side of each row of bookshelves, she mouthed the inscriptions in turn until she came to "Gy," the stack that she suspected held some of the reference material she needed.
Rohese caught herself humming quietly as she slowly wandered the length of the bookcase, her fingers brushing across a set of tomes with intriguing titles or pausing to examine an occasional scroll. There was a sense of ease to be found in a library and Rohese felt relaxed despite the nature of the subject matter she was intending to study. Deep into the shelves, where the light from the myriad candles strewn around the Hall struggled to reach, she paused at a collection of small black leather books with nothing to indicate their contents other than a series of numerals. For some reason, one in particular called to her. She tentatively reached for the third volume and carefully pulled it down from the shelf. The image of grotesque visage had been embossed into the front cover and she recoiled slightly but there was something about it that continued to hold her interest. Flipping the book open at a random page, she was faced with a table of arcane symbols, some of which she recognised, and a facing page of cramped, slanting text. Reading just a few of the paragraphs, Rohese realised that she had found exactly what she was looking for.
Closing the book again, she let it rest in the crook of her arm and reached for another on the same shelf. Adding a third and fourth book to her pile, she went in search of an empty desk to start reading. Now to get to work!
- Assumptions have been made by the author that the Library of Biblia is constructed in a similar way to the Needle of Pentas and that its interior resembles that of other noteworthy fictional libraries.
Rohese stifled yet another yawn and dipped the nib of her quill back into the inkpot. The low burning candle on her desk flickered in the chilly draft that seemed to find its way directly to her from the window at the end of the room, despite it being closed. She wiped her hand across her tired eyes leaving a streak of ink across her cheek and added a few more notes to the growing pile of ink-blotched parchment.
"Two schools of practice: creative/restorative and destructive but infinite applications -- construction, divination, recreation, assertion etc."
She had given up trying to keep her handwritten notes neat and organised, opting instead to write as much as possible while she had the chance and transcribe them properly later. With only one more day to access the Library of Biblia, she needed to optimise her time. Each newly discovered book merely deepened her distaste for blood magic; she had tried to remain impartial given the letter she had received from Starletdawn who had reminded her that the true nature of any sphere of magic came down to the heart of the practitioner and their intentions. What did blood magic offer to Poladra that she couldn't gain from other sources of power? Her sister had always been adept at harnessing magical energy and spellcasting, often pushing the boundaries and testing her own skills to its limits. Why did she look so tormented?
Rohese flipped back a few pages in one of the small books spread out on the desk in front of her as she recalled reading a paragraph on corruption. The acrid smell emanating from the array of foxed parchment before her was unsettling but she pushed aside any thoughts as to its provenance.
"It is a well-known fact that blood magic interferes and slowly corrupts the mind of its user, causing them to develop a multitude of abrasive symptoms. What is not so known is that these feelings may seep over and interfere with the other magics that the user holds, especially naturalistic or creative ones."
Was it that simple? Was Poladra so corrupted by her anger over what had happened between them decades ago that she couldn't see past her desire for revenge on Rohese? With a heavy sigh, Rohese sat back in her chair and pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers. A dull headache was building behind her eyes and she knew that Mirkk would probably reprimand her for working so late into the night again. Prompted by the thought of him waiting at home, she closed all the books, placing them to the side for collection, and gathered up her notes.
Aies
A brief stop at Peacock Couriers before she headed to the Library Aies for the morning yielded several interesting packages. Rohese immediately recognised the elegant hand of Lady Elaejia Silithyr on one and the distinctive seal of the Hall of Mages on the other; Magister Raelee Svala had replied!
Jarveil, the clerk at the post office, was his usual charming self so Rohese spent a few moments discussing the latest news about the inquisitions and promised to let him know if there were any developments. With a polite wave, she departed and soon found herself wandering the familiar halls of the library in search of a quiet place to resume her studies. She was happy to be at home but she already missed the labyrinthine Library of Biblia, rich with history and knowledge. Perhaps one day she would be able to access the restricted wings of the Library Aies but for now, she had to be content with the public halls.
Seating herself at a desk in the Hall of Magic, Rohese quickly set out her books, stacking some neatly to one side and opening others where she had placed strategic bookmarks. A quick glance over the last few hastily scribbled lines of text from her time on the Isle of Ornath prompted her to spend the best part of the morning organising and documenting all of the reference material she had acquired. Having sorted her sheets of parchment into some semblance of order, Rohese began to write her thoughts into a notebook. Ideas were already beginning to form about her sister's motivation and current state of mind.
Once she had satisfied herself that all of her notes had been transcribed, she turned to the packages she had collected earlier. The letter from the Magister was suitably direct and Rohese was pleased to see that her assumption had been correct. A visit to the Tome Gallery of the Hendoran Outpost in Wehnimer's Landing would need to be scheduled in the near future.
The hushed whispers of two scholars entering the hall broke her train of thought. An errant draft followed them through the open door, lifting a sheet of off-white paper from her desk and carrying it to the floor. Rohese leant over to retrieve it and realised that it was the crude map of the Landing Town Square that Ordim had sent her. She had dismissed it at the time because she was unsure what a “garden” had to do with “mud” magic, as he called it. Her curiosity piqued, she flipped back through her notebook and found the paragraph she was looking for:
"Blood is one of the most powerful magical conduits known -- blood given freely, even through deception, the most powerful of them all ... one of the most notable creations of blood magic -- of a much darker sort -- are the black trees."
Could these trees be found in the garden that Ordim alluded to? Just as the idea took hold, the text that had been relatively dormant beneath her skin lately reacted violently. Words bubbled to the surface and disappeared as quickly as they formed. Rohese was only able to catch a few of them but she knew in that moment that she had made a significant breakthrough in her research and was on the right path.
Slipping the map into her notebook for safekeeping, Rohese reached for the narrow box from Elaejia. Her friend's letter was troubling so she made a mental note to reply to her later that day. The report and book enclosed with it, however, drew her immediate attention. The weighty report was headed "Interventions and Restoratives of Epochxin Affliction" by Lord Xorus Kul'shin and Elaejia had kindly annotated Section IV in red ink with several of her own notations. Putting the report aside for one moment, Rohese gently lifted the small tome from the box and traced the image of the silvery eye embossed into its red leather cover as she read the title: "Beyond the Arkati, by Grishom Stone."
Conscious of where she was, she slipped the tome back into the box and secreted them both into her bag. I'll read that later – perhaps when Mirkk has gone fishing. She chided herself for being so furtive but given the current climate in the Shining City, she didn't wish to draw any unwarranted attention to herself or her husband.
Returning to her notebook, Rohese added both the report and tome to her list of references and added "Illithien Aerie" to the end with a question mark. Perhaps I should pay a visit to their library too at some point.
Glowbark
During the search for the truth about her grandmother's book, Rohese learned of family connections to some of the trees – their Anienaeun - in the Veythorne Manor grounds. She often spends time in their company and, in particular, she likes to sit with the glowbark tree where several of the matriarchs of her family had their ashes scattered – most notably her great-great grandmother, Rahese, who was of the Veythorne line.
Recent unsettling developments in Rohese's relationship with her sister, Poladra, have led her back to the glowbark tree, where she hopes to understand how she should proceed.
[Veythorne Manor, The Glowbark] Deep shadows grip the area in perpetual night, not even a pinpoint of light winking through the velvety shroud of darkness that shifts restlessly overhead. An ancient glowbark tree towers over the surroundings -- an ethereal radiance rhythmically pulsing outward from the deep furrows in its bark. Sirenflowers grow along the edges of the streams trickling beneath the massive roots of the tree, sending forth eerie cries that flow into one another to form a slow, sad melody that hangs over the area like a fog. Obvious paths: northeast, southeast, southwest, northwest You smile quietly to yourself. A dark-winged tree elf-owl glides in and makes a perfect landing. Speaking softly to an ancient glowbark tree, you say, "I'll just leave this here for you." Mirkk surreptitiously glances at a dark-winged tree elf-owl. You carefully place a tapered deep green leaf on the ground. The glow from the tree pulses slightly, sending forth shimmering waves of incandescence across the surroundings. You glance up. Speaking softly to a dark-winged tree elf-owl, you say, "You are welcome to join us." Mirkk gazes admiringly at a dark-winged tree elf-owl. Mirkk removes a silver-cored green garnet from in his suede trousers. You let out a long, contemplative breath. Mirkk tightens his grip on his green garnet. Flattening your hands against your cambric cotehardie, you lift your head with an erudite air and focus on observing your surroundings. You smile. Speaking softly to Mirkk, you say, "Let's ..." Tapping into the spiritual mana around you, you consciously select two distinct strands and knot them together as you prepare Minor Sanctuary... You gesture. A sense of peace and calm settles over the area. You nod once. You softly say, "Just in case." You bite your lip. Mirkk nods understandingly. You purposefully pace to your right, moving in a circle around an ancient glowbark tree. You brush your fingers lightly against an ancient glowbark tree. You glance up. You nod faintly. Mirkk gazes in wonder at an ancient glowbark tree. You fondly explain, "I'm going to cast a circle of protection. When it's completed, you may join me within, if you wish." You smile at Mirkk. Mirkk nods slowly to you. Tiny orbs of rainbow-hued light swirl among the leaves of the tree, sending forth ethereal cries of beauty before they hide amongst its leaves once more. Speaking gently to Mirkk, you caution, "Once inside the circle though, you must not break it until I say so." You remove a corked holy water-filled flask from in your back satchel. Mirkk nods slowly to you. Speaking uneasily to you, Mirkk says, "Alright." Speaking softly to Mirkk, you reassure, "Nothing to worry about, it just means we would have to start again." You wrinkle your nose. Mirkk nods understandingly. You gaze thoughtfully at your water-filled flask. You hold a corked holy water-filled flask at arm's length and tilt it slightly, and a thin trail of holy water trickles steadily forth from it. You let it pour around you as you turn around slowly, and are soon bordered by a circle of holy water. Curling all but one elegant finger into your palm, you use your index finger to beckon Mirkk. You put a corked holy water-filled flask in your back satchel. You lean down and slowly run a finger across a circular stain of holy water briefly. Mirkk walks into the rough circle of holy water and stands within it, then kneels down reverently and bows his head in supplication. You nod slowly. You remove a moon-carved hawthorn case with gently rounded corners from in your back satchel. You carefully place your hawthorn case on the ground alongside you. Speaking gently to Mirkk, you remind, "Don't break the circle now, no matter what happens." Mirkk glances over his shoulder. You smile. Mirkk nods slowly to you. You let out a long, contemplative breath. You lower your gaze. You close your eyes for a moment. Your soul reaches out, and you channel your energies into opening up a link between yourself and Lumnis. You fall into a deep trancelike state while muttering a quiet prayer in the hope that Lumnis will hear. After a few silent moments, you calmly open your eyes. Tiny orbs of rainbow-hued light swirl among the leaves of the tree, sending forth ethereal cries of beauty before they hide amongst its leaves once more. You humbly beseech, "Lumnis, Queen of Enlightenment, I call upon you to watch over me while I work. Guide my commune with this tree today and, in your wisdom, give counsel if needed." You open the hawthorn case placed alongside you. You carefully pull the merlin feather fan from its stylized niche in the hawthorn case's silvery ink blue silk interior. Mirkk takes a moment to observe you. Speaking bashfully to Mirkk, you ask, "Which way is east?" You nod. You incline your head. The glow from the tree pulses slightly, sending forth shimmering waves of incandescence across the surroundings. Mirkk says, "Oh." You glance around the area. Mirkk points east. You smile. Mirkk says, "That way." Speaking softly to Mirkk, you say, "Thank you." You nod once. You gaze east. With an outstretched arm, you hold the merlin feather fan at staff's length, purposefully focusing your energy as you gently swirl the fan through the air. Mirkk says, "Because the Keep is that way and..." Mirkk points south. A few ghostly blue leaves slowly sink to the ground from the huge bough of the glowbark tree, their pale light resembling wisps of gossamer in the darkness. You glance south. You softly say, "Ah, yes." You nod. You gaze east. Mirkk quietly murmurs, "Nevermind. I'll be quiet." Mirkk grins. You glance over your shoulder at Mirkk. You giggle softly. You wink at Mirkk. You softly say, "It's fine." With an outstretched arm, you hold the merlin feather fan at staff's length, purposefully focusing your energy as you gently swirl the fan through the air. You meekly begin, "Jaston, I call upon you to watch over me while I work and I ask for your blessing of the winds and air." Wide, sweeping gestures with a grey merlin feather fan knotted with silver-threaded bells draw the air upward as you murmur a brief chant under your breath. After holding the merlin feather fan flush against your chest for a contemplative moment, you make an outward sweeping motion with it, and then make a quarter turn clockwise. A radiant ghostly blue leaf is suddenly caught up in an errant breeze and swirls northeast. The ghostly blue leaves of the glowbark tree shiver briefly. You carefully place the merlin feather fan into one of the stylized depressions in the hawthorn case's silvery ink blue silk interior. You remove a pale ivory chamomile candle from in your back satchel. You gaze south. You carefully place your chamomile candle on the ground. Mirkk glances over his shoulder. You light the chamomile candle, which flickers and begins to burn. You clasp your hands in a reverent gesture. You determinedly continue, "Phoen, I call upon you to watch over me while I work and to shed your warmth and light upon me." You turn around. You carefully pull the pewter goblet from its stylized niche in the hawthorn case's silvery ink blue silk interior. You gaze west. Nestling the bowl of the pewter goblet between your hands, you stretch out your arms to present it. You meekly request, "Niima, I call upon you to watch over me while I work and to cleanse this space." You wrinkle your nose. Bowing your head, you hold the pewter goblet aloft and offer it skyward. With quick, but purposeful movements, you tilt the pewter goblet and pour out its contents as you turn clockwise in a circle. A dark-winged tree elf-owl sleeks down her wing feathers and meticulously preens each glossy pinion. The chamomile candle flickers softly, casting a warm light throughout the area. You gaze in amusement at a dark-winged tree elf-owl. Mirkk glances at a dark-winged tree elf-owl. Speaking softly to a dark-winged tree elf-owl, you ask, "Not impressed?" You giggle softly. Mirkk shakes his head at a dark-winged tree elf-owl and clucks his tongue. You carefully place the pewter goblet into one of the stylized depressions in the hawthorn case's silvery ink blue silk interior. You gaze north. You carefully pull the pewter-bladed athame from its stylized niche in the hawthorn case's silvery ink blue silk interior. A small draft catches the flame of a pale ivory chamomile candle and it flickers brightly. Your chin drops as you focus your gaze on the pewter-bladed athame in your hands, and you concentrate on infusing your energy into the tool. For the barest of moments, it pulses with a faint bright blue glow. You gently conclude, "Aeia, I call upon you to watch over me while I work and ground me to the earth beneath my feet." Changing your grip on the pewter-bladed athame, you direct the tip of the blade downward, funneling your energy into the ground beneath you. You glance down. You let out a long, contemplative breath. You carefully place the pewter-bladed athame into one of the stylized depressions in the hawthorn case's silvery ink blue silk interior. The ghostly blue leaves of the glowbark tree shiver briefly. Mirkk glances at an ancient glowbark tree. You turn to face Mirkk. You smile at Mirkk. Speaking affectionately to Mirkk, you inform, "Now we make our offerings and see what the tree is willing to share." A small draft catches the flame of a pale ivory chamomile candle and it flickers brightly. You kneel before an ancient glowbark tree. Mirkk nods slowly to you. You remove a smoke-hazed green moss agate from in your back satchel. Tiny orbs of rainbow-hued light swirl among the leaves of the tree, sending forth ethereal cries of beauty before they hide amongst its leaves once more. Speaking quietly to Mirkk, you explain, "Agates are stabilising stones that help to connect us with nature, promote communication and encourage trust." You lean toward an ancient glowbark tree. You carefully place a smoke-hazed green moss agate on the ground. You reach out and touch a smoke-hazed green moss agate. Mirkk glances at a silver-cored green garnet in his hand. You nod encouragingly at Mirkk. Tiny orbs of rainbow-hued light swirl among the leaves of the tree, sending forth ethereal cries of beauty before they hide amongst its leaves once more. The chamomile candle flickers softly, casting a warm light throughout the area. Speaking hesitantly to you, Mirkk asks, "And garnets ... what do garnets do again?" Mirkk carefully places a silver-cored green garnet on the ground. Mirkk glances at an ancient glowbark tree. Speaking quietly to Mirkk, you explain, "Garnets are responsive stones, they can help to increase connections with spirits." You smile. Mirkk says, "Ah... that." Mirkk nods to an ancient glowbark tree. Speaking gently to Mirkk, you instruct, "Now place your hands near mine and follow my lead." You lean toward an ancient glowbark tree. Mirkk leans toward an ancient glowbark tree. (Rohese places both hands firmly on the soft, damp ground at the base of the glowbark tree. Humming in a low, droning tone reminiscent of the thrum of bees, she channels mana into the surrounding earth. The ghostly blue leaves of the glowbark tree pulse strongly with a wave of incandescence in response.) A pale ivory chamomile candle flickers a moment and nearly goes out, then its flame springs to life again, burning merrily. You glance up. You smile quietly to yourself. (Mirkk places his hands along the roots of the tree, mimicking you.) You surreptitiously glance at Mirkk. You nod approvingly. Mirkk makes a nearly imperceptible motion while whispering a soft phrase... Mirkk gestures. Glimmers of greenish light ripple outward from Mirkk but quickly lose cohesion and sink into the soil. The glow from the tree pulses slightly, sending forth shimmering waves of incandescence across the surroundings. A small draft catches the flame of a pale ivory chamomile candle and it flickers brightly. You smile quietly to yourself. (Rohese raises her hand bearing an opal ring and presses it reverently upon the furrowed bark of the glowbark tree. A gentle breeze swirls around her, lifting her hair and causing it to shimmer with a silvery white glow.) Speaking softly to an ancient glowbark tree, you begin, "Amaltara, we seek your help. I believe that my sister has taken a dark path in the pursuit of power outside of the codified spheres of magic." The ghostly blue leaves of the glowbark tree shiver briefly. Mirkk glances up. Speaking softly to an ancient glowbark tree, you continue, "She seeks your ring to aid in that purpose and there is no limit to what she will do to gain possession of it." You bite your lip. Speaking softly to an ancient glowbark tree, you sigh, "She is driven by something that I cannot comprehend and is tormented by it." A wisp of smoke rises from a pale ivory chamomile candle as the hot wax drips and splutters. You gaze thoughtfully at an ancient glowbark tree. Speaking meekly to an ancient glowbark tree, you inquire, "How may I counter her magic without resorting to the same arcane arts?" You incline your head. Mirkk glances between an ancient glowbark tree and yourself. Mirkk inclines his ear, listening intently. Speaking reassuringly to an ancient glowbark tree, you add, "For it is my greatest wish to restore the balance of her mind and see her returned to the warm embrace of our family." You glance up. The sirenflowers whisper in soft, echoing tones to one another before rising into their eerie ballad once more. Mirkk's perspective: There is a blinding flash of light. As your eyes start to adjust, you can make out the faint outline of the tree but in its place are the ethereal images of three elven ladies. Judging by the similarities in their appearance - pale-complected with flowing silver hair - they appear to be related. All three seem to be reaching out to rest a hand on Rohese's head. The vision fades and your sight gradually returns to normal. Rohese takes a deep breath and closes her eyes for a moment. A faint aura flickers around her. Mirkk blinks. The chamomile candle flickers softly, casting a warm light throughout the area. Rohese smiles softly as she turns her gaze up to the densely foliated branches arcing overhead. The ghostly blue leaves stir sending several spiraling away into the distance. Within the subtle susurration, it is possible to discern the whispered words, "love" and "gift" in the Elven tongue. The faint sound of singing is carried on the breeze and several songbirds in the nearby trees pick up the soft refrain. Mirkk glances briefly up, then down again. Suddenly, his eyes bulge and he whips his head back up, gaping around the area. A dark-winged tree elf-owl springs skyward with a quick beat of her wings. Mirkk glances up. (Rohese tilts her head as she listens intently to the gentle harmonies of the haunting melody. Tiny orbs of rainbow-hued light swirl and dance around Mirkk, playfully ruffling his hair. A muted voice can be barely heard above the singing as it whispers softly, "You already have the knowledge you seek, Onwemirima. Understand that which is written upon you and you will be helped in your endeavours.") The ghostly blue leaves of the glowbark tree shiver briefly. A bit of melted wax drips from a pale ivory chamomile candle with a hiss. The flame jumps, burning high for a moment, then settles into a warm glow. Mirkk's perspective: The sound of singing fills your ears to the point that it almost becomes deafening. Distant voices grow louder layering over the softer harmonies but you can't quite make out what they are saying. As an errant breeze lifts Rohese's hair again, you can see that the tattoo on her spine is glowing through the thin material of her cotehardie. The ghostly blue leaves of the glowbark tree shiver briefly. A dark-winged tree elf-owl flies northeast. Mirkk inclines his ear, listening intently. Mirkk closes his eyes for a moment. You glance northeast. Mirkk glances at you. The chamomile candle burns warmly, lending a soft light to the surroundings. The ghostly blue leaves of the glowbark tree shiver briefly. Speaking hushedly to you, Mirkk murmurs, "Rohese..." Speaking reticently to an ancient glowbark tree, you press, "But Amaltara..." A gentle zephyr lifts some of the pale leaves lying on the ground and builds into a whirlwind around her. The whispered word, "gift" is repeated once more, falling silent as the air stills and the leaves gently drift back down to the ground. Hesitating for a moment, Rohese tentatively responds, "I think I understand." You give a sidelong glance at Mirkk. You smile at Mirkk. Speaking hushedly to you, Mirkk murmurs, "Your markings...along your spine..." You glance over your shoulder. You bite your lip. Speaking to you, Mirkk mouths, "Keep going." Speaking anxiously to Mirkk, you ask, "What about them?" Speaking to you, Mirkk mouths, "Will tell you later." You nod slightly at Mirkk. You turn to face an ancient glowbark tree. Mirkk nods encouragingly to you. A pale ivory chamomile candle flickers a moment and nearly goes out, then its flame springs to life again, burning merrily. Mirkk's perspective: As the air falls still and the singing fades away, you feel the gentle caress of a hand on your cheek and a voice whispering, "Watch over our child. We place our trust in you.” Rohese closes her eyes in concentration for a moment. Mirkk gazes up into the heavens. Mirkk nods understandingly to an ancient glowbark tree. Mirkk quietly whispers aloud, "I shall." The chamomile candle flickers softly, casting a warm light throughout the area. (Rohese increases the pressure of her fingertips against the rough bark of the glowbark tree. Slivers of radiance race along its furrows, intensifying as they reach the ground and a thick sap begins to ooze out between her fingers, coating them in a clear viridescent lacquer.) You pick up a small hollowed root. Mirkk glances down. You gaze thoughtfully at your hollowed root. (Rohese manages to collect a small sample of the sap in her hollowed root. Bending forward, she scoops up some of the water from the stream trickling around the tree and gives the hollowed root a vigorous shake to create a cloudy solution within.) A dark-winged tree elf-owl soars in. You swirl the sap back and forth languidly. Mirkk glances up. A pale ivory chamomile candle flickers a moment and nearly goes out, then its flame springs to life again, burning merrily. You glance up. Mirkk takes a moment to observe you. Speaking gratefully to an ancient glowbark tree, you whisper aloud, "Thank you for the gift, Amaltara." You smile quietly to yourself. You glance between an ancient glowbark tree and a small hollowed root. Speaking lightly to Mirkk, you note, "I think the tree is done with us. Let me finish up with my thanks and we can go fishing!" You stand back up. Mirkk nods slowly to you. Mirkk glances at you. Mirkk stands up. You pick up a moon-carved hawthorn case with gently rounded corners from alongside you. You gaze thoughtfully at your hollowed root. Mirkk glances at an ancient glowbark tree and clasps his hands in a reverent gesture. A spiny dark green leaf lazily drifts in on a soft breeze and settles to the ground. The chamomile candle burns warmly, lending a soft light to the surroundings. You put a small hollowed root in your back satchel. You glance down. Mirkk glances down. You giggle softly. Mirkk appears to be trying hard not to grin. You close a moon-carved hawthorn case with gently rounded corners. You put a moon-carved hawthorn case with gently rounded corners in your back satchel. You gently say, "I thank you spirits of air and fire. I thank you spirits of earth and water. Now I close this circle." You purposefully pace to your left, moving in a circle around an ancient glowbark tree. A spiny dark green leaf is suddenly caught up in an errant breeze and swirls southwest. A pale ivory chamomile candle flickers a moment and nearly goes out, then its flame springs to life again, burning merrily. You reverently conclude, "I thank you Lumnis, for your grace and wisdom." You clasp your hands in a reverent gesture. Speaking lightly to Mirkk, you say, "Well, that was ..." You glance over your shoulder at an ancient glowbark tree. Mirkk makes a nearly imperceptible motion while whispering a soft phrase... Mirkk gestures. Glimmers of greenish light ripple away from Mirkk and seep into the soil, rioting the surrounding flora to new life. You softly continue, "Interesting." You remove a small hollowed root from in your back satchel. Speaking softly to Mirkk, you say, "It seems we have been gifted something back." Speaking uncertainly to you, Mirkk remarks, "Yes... interesting." Speaking softly to Mirkk, you say, "Hopefully it will become clear what it's for." You giggle softly. You put a small hollowed root in your back satchel. Mirkk asks, "Should we... visit the cabin at the Arboretum?" Mirkk raises an eyebrow in your direction. Mirkk says, "We could use those lenses."
Aerie
The soft, pastel glow of a Lumnea morning coloured the sky and sparrows filled the air with their ceaseless chatter as Rohese stepped outside into the courtyard. Aavia was feeding her avian friends, as she did every morning, and nodded a polite greeting to her mistress. With much to do that day, Rohese wasted no time in heading out onto the Sylvarraend Road and towards the city. Her spirits were lifted at the sight of hawthorn in full bloom on every hedge that lined the route and she was conscious of the many scents floating upon the air, each one connected with a memory.
Lost in her reverie, she soon found herself stepping through the gloom of the portcullis tunnel leading to the Sapphire Gate and out into the open sky of the city proper. Stopping briefly at the Peacock Couriers, she was greeted warmly by Jarveil, the mail clerk, who handed over several packages.
"Good morning, Loremaster. You're up and about early."
Rohese nodded with enthusiasm. "Another day of study awaits me in the Arboretum so I thought I would get an early start," she added brightly, nudging her heavy book satchel higher up onto her shoulder. With the Yshollis festivities over, Rohese's thoughts had returned to the sap she had collected during her recent commune with the glowbark tree. The reason for such a gift was still a mystery; what to do with it was even more of a conundrum but she was determined to get to the bottom of it.
Rohese glanced at each piece of mail before dropping them one-by-one into her satchel. She didn't recognise the writing on the envelopes – some bearing stamps from across the DragonSpine Mountains - but she paused at the small shipping crate; it bore the familiar elegant hand of her friend, Lady Elaejia Silithyr, so she undertook to open it as soon as she reached the Arboretum.
With a friendly wave, Rohese and the mail clerk parted company and within ten minutes she had settled herself at her workbench in the Arboreal Conservatory with a cup of tea. Putting aside the envelopes for now, she opted to open the crate first; curiosity having gotten the better of her. Inside she found a sheet of pristine white parchment and a small black fel case. The letter was indeed from her good friend and Rohese was relieved to see how neat the handwriting was compared to the last two letters she had received.
In the Elven language, it reads: 4th Lumnea 5123 My Dear R., I will not dissemble - the past two months have been a trial for me. However, with the unfailing support of Aendir and my household, I am much improved, and regret having troubled you. I have found a daily ride through Whistler's Pass a soverign remedy against disturbance of the mind and spirit -- if one squints, they might be reminded of the cliffs of the Arann'eren Coast our family calls home. Be assured that I am well, and will explain more at some time when both our days are more restful. All this a long way to say that the opportunity to ride to the Aerie after receiving your last missive was a welcome one, though I had little hope - Having spent uncountable hours in the estate's library myself, I was quite certain I would not chance upon anything I had not already seen. Therefore I opted instead to investigate the storerooms. During the renovations, the workmen reported they found a number of items that we had them store -- mostly art pieces that I confess I have not yet catalogued. It was in one of these storage rooms deep within the estate, I located the enclosed case and its contents. I believe its import will be immediately clear to you with the missive tucked within. I can guess at the use for some of these items, but others remain a mystery to me. Perhaps your experience will be able to shed light on them. Additionally...R., I must confess that I have perused the notes. Some of these methods seem to me perversions of what you studied with me, when we first embarked on our communes several years past -- they may well be effective. The repetition of the need for exactitude and sacrifice in particular though is most disquieting. The nature of the true form of this magic is one that relies on adjoining one's spirit to that of the natural, becoming one with it; in contrast, the forceful and binding nature of what is described here is something altogether different and more dangerous. I hope you will pardon my preaching -- you have done much research on this and I am assured you will be wary of the perils presented here. I shall leave off for now, and hasten to send this to you, as I am sure it must be exactly what you hoped to find. I hope we will be able to speak more in person of what we have both learned of late-- Regards, E.S.
Folding the letter and slipping it into her pocket, Rohese turned to the case with some trepidation. Whatever could Elaejia be referring to and why the advice for caution? Carefully opening the lid, Rohese was struck first by the strong odour emanating from within. Wrinkling her nose, she peered inside to see a small black leather notebook, a dark ring, a lancet, and what appeared to be a vial of blood.
Lifting the notebook from the case, Rohese opened it and immediately saw the missive that Elaejia had alluded to. Slipped inside the front cover of the book was a flimsy envelope clearly addressed to Poladra Bayvel. Much of the text on the sheet of parchment folded within was illegible due to considerable water damage but it was possible to make out the sender's name as Lady Avaie Illithien – their maternal grandmother. My grandmother had been in contact with Poladra all this time? And she had been staying in the Illithien Aerie? Rohese's heart sank at the thought of her sister having been so close.
Holding the parchment up to the lantern hanging from the cross-beam overhead, Rohese struggled in vain to read the rest of the letter. Even attempts at casting spells of Light and Dispel Invisibility failed to reveal any of its contents. With a heavy sigh, Rohese put the letter back into its envelope and closed the notebook. This was going to take more than rote magic.
Twilight had cast its enchanting spell across the sky, staining it in a blend of deep blues and purples and imbuing the landscape with a dreamlike quality. Shadows lengthened, stretching across the Manse courtyard like delicate fingers, while the last remnants of daylight danced upon the surrounding foliage. The distant chirping of birds bade farewell to the day and Rohese heard the murmur of footsteps signalling Mirkk's return home. She couldn't help but smile. Perhaps he can help me reveal what was written in this letter.
Avaie's letter to Poladra
[Sylvanfair, Solar]
Bright sunlight floods the room through a tall mullioned window, illuminating the antique silk rug covering most of the tiled floor. Three grey stone walls, hung with pastoral murals, enclose the space beneath a high vaulted ceiling, while a curved linden balustrade overlooks the hall below. Tall cabinets filled with books and curios line one wall, in front of which sits a writing desk and a high-backed chair. Two sofas face each other across a low table set for entertaining. You also see a silvery grey haon door and a golden linden door.
Obvious exits: down
You shake your head, totally at a loss.
You gaze thoughtfully at your off-white parchment.
Mirkk just climbed up a narrow spiral staircase.
You glance up.
Mirkk takes a moment to observe you.
You smile.
Mirkk smiles at you.
Speaking fondly to Mirkk, you say, "Hello you."
Speaking fondly to you, Mirkk says, "Hello you."
Mirkk walks toward you.
Mirkk leans toward you.
You close your eyes for a moment.
Mirkk closes his eyes for a moment.
Mirkk kisses you, letting his lips linger softly.
You press your lips gently to Mirkk's in a loving kiss.
Mirkk offers you an iridescent glass teacup cradled by gilded feathers.
You softly exclaim, "Oh!"
Mirkk says, "I thought you could use tea."
You carefully place your cracked leather tome on the floor alongside you.
You accept Mirkk's offer and are now holding an iridescent glass teacup cradled by gilded feathers.
You nod enthusiastically!
You softly say, "I really could, thank you."
You wrinkle your nose.
Mirkk smiles.
Mirkk just went over and threw himself down on the sofa.
Speaking frustratedly to Mirkk, you exclaim, "I've spent all day on this!"
You wave your off-white parchment at Mirkk.
Mirkk leans back.
Mirkk looks thoughtfully at you.
Mirkk asks, "What's that?"
You put an iridescent glass teacup cradled by gilded feathers on a low table.
Speaking exasperatedly to Mirkk, you explain, "It's the letter to Poladra that was inside the notebook."
You gaze thoughtfully at your off-white parchment.
Mirkk blinks.
Speaking surprisedly to you, Mirkk asks, "You opened it?"
Speaking softly to Mirkk, you say, "I've tried everything to see if I can read any of it."
Speaking softly to Mirkk, you reassure, "Only the letter inside the cover, I haven't read any of the book."
You vigorously shake your head.
Mirkk nods understandingly to you.
Speaking frustratedly to Mirkk, you say, "I've tried all the rote magic I know."
Screwing your eyes upward, you glare at your offending hair and sigh. You close your right eye, jut your chin out, and blow upward across your face, causing your hair to flutter in the air for several seconds before falling back down and away from your eyes.
Speaking curiously to you, Mirkk asks, "Do you think it requires magic to read?"
Mirkk scratches his head.
Speaking confusedly to you, Mirkk suggests, "It's not the same script that's..."
Mirkk leans to his right slightly.
Speaking sheepishly to Mirkk, you say, "Well, it's so damaged by water that I was hoping I could try and fix that."
You bite your lip.
You tentatively say, "Oh no, it's a perfectly ordinary letter ... I think."
You gaze thoughtfully at your off-white parchment.
Mirkk leans back.
Mirkk says, "Just waterstained."
You gaze thoughtfully at your off-white parchment.
You nod slowly at Mirkk.
Mirkk steeples his fingers in his lap, quietly observing his surroundings.
Speaking hesitantly to Mirkk, you ask, "Do you mind if I try some older magic?"
You wrinkle your nose.
You lean forward.
You pick up an ink-smeared cracked leather tome from alongside you.
Speaking to you, Mirkk inquires, "Mind?"
Speaking softly to Mirkk, you say, "I think I've found something in here that might work."
You point at your cracked leather tome.
Speaking softly to Mirkk, you assure, "It's perfectly safe, I promise!"
Mirkk looks thoughtfully at you.
Speaking softly to Mirkk, you ask, "Do you remember making the tea out of those leaves?"
You wrinkle your nose.
You giggle softly.
Speaking cautiously to you, Mirkk acknowledges, "I do."
You bite your lip.
You softly say, "It's the same sort of magic."
Speaking carefully to you, Mirkk asks, "And what tools will be required?"
Speaking amusedly to Mirkk, you say, "Don't worry, I won't need ... the cauldron."
Mirkk glances anxiously at a silvery grey haon door.
You smile quietly to yourself.
Speaking relievedly to you, Mirkk says, "Oh thank the gods."
Speaking softly to Mirkk, you say, "It's quite a simple spell to reveal truth."
You thoughtfully say, "Let me see."
You move to a kneeling position.
Attempting to decipher the barely legible text, you carefully flip back and forth between two pages in your tome.
You nod slowly.
Mirkk takes a moment to observe you.
You carefully place your cracked leather tome on the floor alongside you.
You gaze thoughtfully at your cracked leather tome.
You remove a pale ivory chamomile candle from in your back satchel.
You carefully place your chamomile candle on the ground.
Mirkk glances down.
You rummage through a cylindrical back satchel of latticed pale raw silk.
Mirkk leans forward.
You remove a small brass bell with a dull patina from in your back satchel.
You glance up.
You smile at Mirkk.
Mirkk moves to a kneeling position.
You glance appraisingly at the cracked leather tome placed alongside you.
You nod slowly.
You softly say, "First we light the candle."
Speaking to you, Mirkk implores, "Do be careful."
You lean forward.
You light the chamomile candle, which flickers and begins to burn.
Mirkk glances at a pale ivory chamomile candle.
Speaking softly to Mirkk, you say, "I will, I promise."
Mirkk nods slowly to you.
You lovingly kiss Mirkk gently on the cheek.
Speaking softly to Mirkk, you say, "No dark magic."
You shake your head.
Mirkk nods slowly.
You gaze into the flickering flame for a moment, lost in thought.
Mirkk moves to a sitting position.
You close your eyes for a moment.
You let out a long, contemplative breath.
Mirkk glances skeptically around the room.
Mirkk closes his eyes for a moment.
You ring your brass bell once, producing a single clear note.
You ring your brass bell once, producing a single clear note.
You ring your brass bell once, producing a single clear note.
You let out a long, contemplative breath.
(Mirkk peeks at you through one slightly opened eye.)
A wisp of smoke rises from a pale ivory chamomile candle as the hot wax drips and splutters.
Mirkk glances at a pale ivory chamomile candle.
You recite softly:
"By truth's light, with love to share,
I call upon a wisdom fair.
Hidden truths now be revealed,
In harmony, let all be healed."
You glance down.
You gaze thoughtfully at a pale ivory chamomile candle.
Mirkk glances between a pale ivory chamomile candle and yourself.
You recite softly:
"To see it clear and know the way,
I cast a spell on this fine day.
By will alone and power of three,
I ask that you reveal to me."
You glance between a pale ivory chamomile candle and a water-stained off-white parchment.
You ring your brass bell once, producing a single clear note.
You quietly repeat, "Reveal to me."
You ring your brass bell once, producing a single clear note.
A pale ivory chamomile candle flickers a moment and nearly goes out, then its flame springs to life again, burning merrily.
You quietly repeat, "Reveal to me."
You ring your brass bell once, producing a single clear note.
You quietly repeat, "Reveal to me."
You glance down.
Mirkk mouths, "Three..."
Mirkk glances at a pale ivory chamomile candle.
(Rohese holds her off-white parchment carefully above the candle flame so that it glows with a warm amber light. Slowly, but surely, faint lines of text and arcane symbols begin to emerge through the water stains. As if agitated by the magic, odd words start to bubble up and skitter across her exposed skin, disappearing as quickly as they appeared.)
You excitedly exclaim, "Oh, look!"
Mirkk blinks.
You let out a little squeal of delight.
You tentatively say, "I think it's working."
Speaking to you, Mirkk says, "Yes...look."
You gaze thoughtfully at your off-white parchment.
The glow from a pale ivory chamomile candle softly illuminates the shadows.
You beam, delighted!
You softly say, "I can see words forming."
You nod enthusiastically!
In the Elven language, it reads:
Poladra,
Our visit to Ta’Ardenai has delayed us so I am sending you the book I mentioned by courier. It pains m
[The next few lines of text are too badly blurred by water damage to be able to make them out but a couple of words become legible a little further down.]
your grandfath lood magi
ow your limitations and underst risks involved becau
ards of protection uffer the same fate as he did.
[The lower half of the parchment is marred by more irregular splotches and dark smudges where the ink has bled, rendering the rest of the letter completely unreadable. As the ambient light dances across the parchment, you can make out arcane runic symbols in the margins, so faint that they could almost be a watermark but, on closer inspection, it becomes evident that they were added at a later date. Despite the many blotches of discoloration caused by the infiltration of water, the signature at the bottom of the letter is very clear.]
Lady Avaie Illithi
[The glowing symbols begin to dim as the magic used to reveal them wanes but before they fade altogether you see what looks to be the Shien'tyr rune among many others you do not recognise.]
(Mirkk fixes his gaze upon your arm.)
You softly offer, "Take a look quickly, in case they fade."
You offer your off-white parchment to Mirkk.
Mirkk blinks in surprise as though just becoming aware of your presence.
Mirkk has accepted your offer and is now holding a water-stained off-white parchment.
Speaking awkwardly to you, Mirkk says, "Sorry... I..."
Mirkk shakes his head.
Mirkk glances at a water-stained off-white parchment in his hand.
Mirkk rubs his eyes.
You bite your lip.
Mirkk says, "Elven."
Speaking hesitantly to Mirkk, you ask, "Anything?"
You lean toward Mirkk.
Mirkk squints at a water-stained off-white parchment.
Mirkk removes a set of vaalin half-framed reading spectacles from in his leather relics satchel.
Mirkk puts on a set of vaalin half-framed reading spectacles.
Mirkk peers over the rim of his spectacles.
(Rohese peers over Mirkk's arm and attempts to read along with him.)
You furrow your brow, probably adding a wrinkle or two in the process.
Mirkk reads, "Poladra...our visit to Ta'Ardenai has delayed us..."
A faint, flickering light emanates from a pale ivory chamomile candle, warming the room with its glow.
Mirkk quickly murmurs, "Sending you the book I mentioned...."
Mirkk shakes his head.
Mirkk says, "It blurs... Just smeared ink...and..."
You softly say, "Is that ..." Pointing at the parchment, she hesitates for a moment and continues, "blood magic?"
You bite your lip.
Speaking carefully to you, Mirkk agrees, "Yes...it looks to be."
Mirkk says, "And..."
Mirkk points at his off-white parchment.
You let out a long, contemplative breath.
The glow from a pale ivory chamomile candle softly illuminates the shadows.
Mirkk asks, "Grandfather?"
Mirkk offers you a water-stained off-white parchment.
You accept Mirkk's offer and are now holding a water-stained off-white parchment.
You gaze thoughtfully at your off-white parchment.
You nod slowly.
Mirkk asks, "But this is Illithien, not Bayvel. So your other grandfather?"
Mirkk peers quizzically at you.
You nod at Mirkk.
Mirkk nods slowly.
Mirkk leans toward you.
Mirkk asks, "But what did I read..." He points at a line in the parchment. "Yes, there. Someone suffering fate?"
You confusedly say, "Something about know your limitations and understand ... then risks involved."
You nod thoughtfully.
Mirkk takes off a set of vaalin half-framed reading spectacles.
You softly sigh, "It sounds like my grandmother was trying to warn her about something."
Mirkk rubs his eyes.
Mirkk put a set of vaalin half-framed reading spectacles in his leather relics satchel.
Mirkk just closed a weathered leather relics satchel.
Mirkk nods slowly to you.
A pale ivory chamomile candle burns with a warm golden light.
You carefully say, "And this ... it's still glowing."
You point at your off-white parchment.
You bite your lip.
Mirkk looks thoughtfully at you.
Speaking tentatively to Mirkk, you inquire, "Can you read runes?"
You wrinkle your nose.
Mirkk blinks.
Mirkk stares at you.
You gaze thoughtfully at your off-white parchment.
Speaking amusedly to you, Mirkk says, "I can barely read Elven."
Mirkk grins.
You laugh softly, trying to hide your amusement.
Mirkk says, "But I had a thought..."
Mirkk leans toward you.
Mirkk glances down.
Mirkk asks, "You see these..." He traces his finger along the blurred inklings and watermarks. "Caused by water, yes?"
Speaking affectionately to Mirkk, you apologize, "I'm sorry, too much time in the guild library researching alchemy and I assume everyone can read them."
You lovingly kiss Mirkk gently on the cheek.
You gaze thoughtfully at your off-white parchment.
You brush your fingers lightly against your off-white parchment.
You nod slowly.
You softly say, "I think so."
You annoyedly say, "I can't read any of the symbols."
You furrow your brow, probably adding a wrinkle or two in the process.
You apprehensively say, "Except this one."
(Mirkk quickly steals a kiss on your cheek before leaning back into a sitting position.)
You point at your off-white parchment.
You bite your lip.
You anxiously mouth, "Tyr ... shien'tyr."
Mirkk asks, "Who? Is that a name?"
You look at Mirkk and shake your head.
Speaking seriously to Mirkk, you say, "It's more...a place."
You glance uneasily at the off-white parchment in your hand.
Mirkk says, "Is that an old Elven name? I haven't seen anything like that on any maps or charts."
Mirkk rummages through a map-branded cognac leather hip-satchel with a frantic look of loss.
Speaking softly to Mirkk, you say, "You won't, sweetheart. It's not of this world."
Mirkk blinks in amazement at you. Marriage hasn't changed your ability to surprise him!
Speaking disbelievingly to you, Mirkk asks, "Come again?"
You wrinkle your nose.
(Rohese wriggles herself around to face Mirkk, squirming between his knees and looks up at him.)
Mirkk gazes with interest at you.
Speaking carefully to Mirkk, you explain, "Some people believe that there are planes that co-exist with our own."
Mirkk ponders.
Mirkk glances north.
Speaking softly to Mirkk, you ask, "Do you remember Nazhor and the Meek?"
You incline your head.
Mirkk nods slowly to you.
Mirkk says, "I remember you telling me, yes."
You softly say, "He - and they - were not of this world."
You wrinkle your nose.
Mirkk furrows his brow.
You softly say, "And you've probably heard of those who practice demonology."
You bite your lip.
Mirkk nods slowly to you.
Mirkk glances south.
Speaking fearfully to Mirkk, you say, "They are supposedly brought in from demonic planes."
You softly say, "And there are the astral planes."
You carefully say, "Naidem, where we visited last year through the Gate."
You wrinkle your nose.
Mirkk nods slowly to you.
Mirkk says, "I remember."
You softly exclaim, "Oh and where Astraea likes to take me!"
Mirkk says, "That explains..."
Mirkk glances at a glass window.
You giggle softly.
Mirkk blinks in amazement at you. Marriage hasn't changed your ability to surprise him!
Mirkk says, "And both seams and tears between the planes, like fabric."
You softly clarify, "The Eternal Dreamland is an astral plane."
You nod at Mirkk.
You glance at the off-white parchment in your hand.
Mirkk says, "And Astraea is a seam, linking the two."
Mirkk says, "Of sorts."
Speaking softly to Mirkk, you say, "Exactly! She pulls me through to another valence from time to time."
You giggle softly.
You softly say, "Well, this rune here."
You glance down.
You point at your off-white parchment.
You softly say, "Is used to pull something from a demonic plane."
You let out a long, contemplative breath.
You incline your head.
Mirkk asks, "Do we know anyone who studies runology?"
Mirkk suggests, "The Magister?"
Speaking softly to Mirkk, you say, "It seems my sister is trying to reach through to a valence."
You nod at Mirkk.
You softly exclaim, "Probably!"
Mirkk says, "Oh, and I had a thought..."
You softly say, "Oh, I wonder."
You thoughtfully tap a finger against your lips.
You smile.
Speaking thoughtfully to you, Mirkk considers, "If the damage was done by water, do you think it could be...undone?"
You gaze thoughtfully at your off-white parchment.
Mirkk suggests, "Perhaps by an elementalist that specializes in water?"
Speaking disappointedly to Mirkk, you say, "I think this is the best we're going to get."
You bite your lip.
Mirkk nods slowly to you.
You softly say, "But we can certainly try."
Mirkk agrees, "Still, I think the greater mystery is in the runes."
Speaking softly to Mirkk, you ask, "Do we know any elementalists who work with water?"
You furrow your brow, probably adding a wrinkle or two in the process.
You gaze thoughtfully at your off-white parchment.
Mirkk starts chortling at you!
Speaking lightly to you, Mirkk says, "I socialize with fish and birds."
You laugh softly, trying to hide your amusement.
Speaking softly to Mirkk, you exclaim, "Fish live in water!"
You wiggle your nose.
Mirkk laughs softly, trying to hide his amusement.
Mirkk says, "I fear the fish that doesn't."
Speaking softly to Mirkk, you ponder, "I wonder if Starletdawn might be able to read the other runes."
You giggle softly at Mirkk.
Speaking softly to Mirkk, you exclaim, "Oh, Missoni too!"
Mirkk says, "So, if there are different planes, and different -types- of planes..."
You cock your head at Mirkk.
Speaking curiously to you, Mirkk asks, "What plane do you think she is trying to cross?"
Speaking softly to Mirkk, you say, "If this rune is anything to go by, it's a demonic plane."
You tap a water-stained off-white parchment, which is in your left hand.
You bite your lip.
Speaking apprehensively to Mirkk, you add, "What I fear more is not that she wishes to cross it, it's what she intends to pull through it."
Speaking to you, Mirkk remarks, "So she follows the path of Des-"
Mirkk frowns.
Speaking softly to Mirkk, you ask, "It would make sense, wouldn't it?"
Mirkk nods almost imperceptibly to you.
Mirkk says, "'But Desp-"
Speaking softly to Mirkk, you posit, "She's struggling and needs help with her magic."
Mirkk clears his throat.
Mirkk says, "She was very powerful."
You nod faintly at Mirkk.
You softly say, "And Poladra isn't."
Mirkk nods slowly.
Mirkk says, "I suppose that's the silver lining."
Speaking softly to Mirkk, you speculate, "It's probably why she's looking at blood magic to help her."
You bite your lip.
You gasp.
Mirkk raises an eyebrow in your direction.
You softly exclaim, "And why she needs grandmother's ring and book!"
You clasp a hand over your mouth.
(Mirkk glances down at your hand.)
Speaking softly to Mirkk, you exclaim, "Blood magic and moon magic together would enhance her powers significantly!"
You glance down.
Mirkk glances at a silvery grey haon door.
Mirkk asks, "Where is it?"
You reach out and touch your pale opal ring.
Mirkk shifts his weight.
Mirkk relievedly says, "Oh, you have it. Good."
Speaking softly to Mirkk, you reassure, "Don't worry, I have it on me at all times."
You smile.
You wrinkle your nose.
Mirkk says, "Gods, and mixing the blood and moon magic on Lornon's Eve..."
Speaking uneasily to Mirkk, you say, "It doesn't bear thinking about."
Mirkk bites his lip.
Speaking softly to Mirkk, you sigh, "At least now we have some idea what she's probably up to!"
Mirkk says, "That second ring..."
(Rohese sits back on her heels, smoothing the skirts of her green velvet gown with nervous hand gestures. The text still bubbling and running beneath her skin begins to fade away slowly.)
You glance down.
Speaking distractedly to Mirkk, you ask, "Hmm?"
Speaking to you, Mirkk repeats, "The second ring."
You softly exclaim, "Oh!"
You rummage through a veniom-handled black fel case and see a silver-worked black leather notebook, a thin-tipped black steel lancet, a vial of ebon-swirled blood and an iridescent wood opal ring.
You remove an iridescent wood opal ring from in your fel case.
You softly ask, "This one?"
You offer your wood opal ring to Mirkk.
You idly crease your parchment in half.
You put a water-stained off-white parchment in your fel case.
Mirkk has accepted your offer and is now holding an iridescent wood opal ring.
Mirkk turns over his wood opal ring.
A pale ivory chamomile candle burns with a warm golden light.
Mirkk glances at an iridescent wood opal ring and rubs his chin thoughtfully.
You lean toward Mirkk.
You softly ask, "Interesting little thing, isn't it?"
Speaking thoughtfully to his wood opal ring, Mirkk inquires, "What is the significance of opal?"
Mirkk squints at an iridescent wood opal ring.
Speaking softly to Mirkk, you say, "Good question."
You wrinkle your nose.
(Mirkk raises his wood opal ring to the light, observing its various qualities.)
Mirkk says, "Hrmm."
Speaking excitedly to Mirkk, you say, "I will have to go to the library and find a book on opals."
You nod enthusiastically!
Mirkk offers you an iridescent wood opal ring.
You accept Mirkk's offer and are now holding an iridescent wood opal ring.
Speaking softly to Mirkk, you note, "It seems to have marks on it too."
You turn over your wood opal ring.
Mirkk nods slowly to you.
Mirkk says, "I saw. Some sort of triangles."
You nod faintly.
You gaze thoughtfully at your wood opal ring.
A deep burnished sienna, with striations of rich cobalt and viridian, the arboreal heritage of the gemstone ring is clear in its bark-like patterning. A straight line of elven markings encircles the band, indiscernible as it fades from dark to light. The inner surface of the band bears another, seemingly more recent engraving: a pair of pale triangles. The wood opal ring has an empty socket that looks ready to have a gem pushed into the ring.
You softly say, "And these markings around the band ..."
Mirkk leans forward and rests his chin in his hand, a thoughtful expression on his face.
You let out a long, contemplative breath.
Speaking frustratedly to Mirkk, you say, "We still have a lot of work to do."
You wrinkle your nose.
You put an iridescent wood opal ring in your fel case.
You remove a silver-worked black leather notebook from in your fel case.
Speaking to you, Mirkk agrees, "We do."
You reluctantly add, "And a book to read."
You bite your lip.
You carefully open your black leather notebook, revealing the smooth pages of paper within.
The page, written in Elven, reads as follows:
Blood Magic Rituals
Author: Inixius Du'Kymen Faendryl
Speaking brightly to Mirkk, you say, "But that's for another day."
You gently close your black leather notebook, taking care not to bend any of the pages.
You put a silver-worked black leather notebook in your fel case.
You wiggle your nose.
Mirkk grins.
Speaking gently to Mirkk, you ask, "A silver for your thoughts?"
Mirkk says, "One word."
Speaking to you, Mirkk mouths, "Together."
You smile at Mirkk.
You reach over and gently rest your hand on Mirkk's arm.
Speaking softly to Mirkk, you mouth, "Always."
You nod firmly at Mirkk.
Speaking softly to Mirkk, you say, "We'll take it with us and find some time to make a start."
You glance down.
Mirkk distastefully says, "We'll start in Ordim's...-garden-."
You gaze thoughtfully at your fel case.
You wrinkle your nose.
Speaking reluctantly to Mirkk, you ask, "Must we?"
You slowly and deliberately empty your filled lungs.
Mirkk says, "We don't have to, but I'm quite curious now about these fruits that give blood."
You softly sigh, "I suppose we can't put it off forever."
Mirkk says, "If anything, we can rule it out."
You softly say, "And he was trying to be helpful."
You agree with Mirkk.
Speaking uneasily to you, Mirkk murmurs, "Yes, which carries its own fears."
Speaking softly to Mirkk, you say, "I'll make sure to pack the map."
Speaking softly to Mirkk, you say, "I honestly think he was being genuinely helpful this time."
Mirkk rubs his chin thoughtfully.
A pale ivory chamomile candle burns with a warm golden light.
You softly ask, "Or am I being naive?"
You wrinkle your nose.
Mirkk looks thoughtfully at you.
Garden
Rohese and Mirkk follow Ordim's crudely drawn map and discover Goblyn's Garden in Wehnimer's Landing.
You open your map and scan its contents. The page, written in Common, reads as follows: Dear Lady Rohese, While I am not familiar with mud magic myself, I have heard tell of those that use it being in good favor with Lady Goblyn. Unfortunately, I have not seen or heard of Lady Goblyn being around in a long time. However, I am familiar with her garden, which may hold some clues or information on what you are looking for. You can find it in the Landing * A crude map of the Landing Town Square scrawls upon the paper. A cartoonish black door is smeared onto the southeast corner. * Good luck!
The fever broke after three days. Rohese stirred and tentatively opened her eyes, wincing at the headache lingering behind them. It took her a moment to figure out where she was as the surroundings were unfamiliar but then she recalled the events that had led to her incapacitation. In her reluctant pursuit for knowledge about blood magic - and using Ordim's crudely drawn map - she and Mirkk had made a brief exploratory visit to Goblyn's Garden, which had left them both exhausted and disorientated. They had managed to stumble back to the Sylvanfair tree where Rohese had collapsed into a febrile state.
Mid-morning sunlight flooded the chamber through the intricately carved openings in the bark walls and she blinked against its initial brightness. In desperate need of some tea and a bath, she rose from the disheveled bed, taking her time to avoid falling or aggravating the shooting pains coursing through her arm. Making her way carefully down the spiral staircase to the pool, she gratefully discarded her shift and lowered herself into the warm water to soak her tired and aching body. The angry red blisters on her arm were sore to the touch but at least she was now able to think more clearly.
Refreshed but still feeling a little weak, she took her freshly brewed herbal tea outside and found a shady spot to sit in the lilac-scented Grove. A quick glance at the unsettled sky around Melgorehn's Reach to the south did little to restore her sense of well-being but a pleasant breeze through the wall of fragrant foliage lifted her spirits somewhat and she tried to make sense of the last few days. She had a vague recollection of muddled dreams and disjointed memories while in a delirious state; all of which involved her sister. Flashes of dark rooms and confined spaces blended with cries of anguish and pain but mostly all she really remembered was the sense of dread throughout.
Witnessing the horrors in the garden first hand had only served to reinforce her concerns about the potency of blood magic. If Poladra was really willing to engage in such practices to the same extent, then Rohese had more to fear than she initially thought. Everything she had recently learned about blood magic from friends and reference material had left her feeling even more helpless than when she started on her quest for knowledge. She idly twisted her grandmother’s opal ring on her finger and wondered how she was ever going to counter it and her sister, should she choose to confront Rohese.
The more Rohese thought about it, the more she realised that there were disturbing correlations between the Black Void garden, with its circle of seven grotesque trees, and the seven recently discovered Anienaeun in the Veythorne Manor grounds. She was particularly struck by the twisted parody of her father's memorial tree. Almost identical to its namesake in form, the pendular branches of the clotted weeping willow were, however, draped with long strands of crimson leaves. Its snowy white bark was silky smooth to the touch and unmarred, save for several streams of thick, cinnabar-hued sap that dripped down like tears of clotted blood.
Rohese suspected that it had been contact with this sanguine sap that had caused the intense burning on her arm and subsequent delirium. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the hollowed root in which she had recently collected the sap of a glowbark tree. Depositing a tiny bead of the silvery blue sap on the tip of her finger, she examined it closely. Cool to the touch, it closely resembled water in that it was clear with a faint blue tinge but glistened more like glass in the sunlight.
She was still unsure why the tree had responded to her commune with such a "gift." Hopefully, she would soon have time to study it more closely but, in the meantime, she wanted to try something. Instinct told her to apply the droplet of precious liquid to her inflamed skin. The instant the glowbark sap touched the patch of angry blisters on her wrist, the sharp pains shooting up her arm faded. Rohese sighed with relief and resolved to start her research as soon as she possibly could.
Outpost
Rohese reached for another of the books chained to the shelf with a heavy sigh. It was late and she was exhausted but this was the last chance she had to make use of the library in the Hendoran Outpost. Her gritty eyes struggled to focus on the faded scrawl laid out before her and the flickering dim light of the low-burning candles around the small room didn't help. Now struggling with a pounding headache too, she resolved to make this the last book for the night. The most frustrating part was that she didn’t even really know what she was searching for anymore; her hope was that anything useful would be obvious.
She had spent the last few months visiting libraries at every opportunity and poring over books. Admittedly, she had learned a lot but what to do with that knowledge? She had left this library until last - assuming it would have nothing new to offer - but since the Magister had kindly offered to give her access to the collection, Rohese felt she should at least see what the book-laden shelves held. She had been in the cramped space for hours and had managed to fill a few sheets of paper with some useful notes and references to other reading material. All in all, though, nothing revelatory.
It was just as she was about to close this last book that something caught her eye. She tilted it to read the title on the spine - "The Blood Willow" - and took a sharp intake of breath. How had she not noticed! Rohese chided herself for not having paid more attention. Unable to take the book over to the desk because of its chains, she resigned herself to another hour or so of standing with a promise of a long hot bath when she got home.
The Clotted Weeping Willow is a modified variety of weeping willow tree. Origin: Unmodified weeping willow trees are abundant in Elanthia. Modification to achieve this particular form of weeping willow is the result of mutation whilst germinating in the Shien'Tyr valence. Growing conditions: Clotted weeping willows are nothing more than mutated weeping willows. Germination must take place in the Shien'Tyr valence in order to introduce the mutation -- what causes it is unclear, though that should not be surprising given the valence's nature. Additionally, successful germination has an extremely low success rate. If germination is successful and the seeds' makeup has mutated properly, they can then be grown to maturity in any relatively dark environment. Adults have a significantly longer lifespan in chilly conditions. Characteristics: The clotted weeping willow typically grows to 65-75 feet tall. The snow white-hued bark of the tree is smooth and unmarred -- and is very difficult to cut into. The branches are lilting, with a pendular curve, and carry long strands of vibrant crimson leaves that are exactly the same in shape and size as a generic weeping willow's. The tree regularly leaks an especially thick -- so thick as to come out in clumps, a bit like clotted blood -- cinnabar-hued sap (thus lending this species its name).
Mutated weeping willow – sap like clotted blood – not of this world.
Her mind was racing. Rohese recalled touching such a willow tree in Goblyn's Garden with its sanguine sap. Here was the connection to the Shien'Tyr rune she had seen on her grandmother Avaie's letter to Poladra! Rohese quickly rummaged through her satchel and pulled out the small fel case that Elaejia had discovered in the Illithien Aerie. With everything else going on, she had forgotten all about it. Retrieving the letter from inside the case, she carefully unfolded it and turned it towards a nearby candle flame. The ambient light danced across the flimsy parchment and she could just make out the runic symbol among others she didn't recognise.
Just as she had been struck by the parallels of the seven grotesque trees in the Black Void garden and the seven Anienaeun in Veythorne Manor, she now realised that Poladra probably had a connection with the clotted weeping willow similar to her own with the glowbark. She glanced down at the pale opal ring on her finger and then at the wood opal ring in the case. Then there was her grandmother Sahese's book – the one that had started all of this – and the black leather notebook that her other grandmother had sent to Poladra.
These were not coincidences.
Turning her attention back to the library book, Rohese continued to read.
Like its unmodified counterpart, the clotted weeping willow is also associated with the moon, water, and wisdom. Communing with it during a full moon can increase the potency of insights to be gained and, if approached with caution, the clotted weeping willow will whisper its secrets to those patient enough to listen and skilled enough to hear.
It was time to finish up her alchemical work with the glowbark sap and to read Poladra's notebook.
Beyond Blood Magic
She was running out of time and she was running out of options.
The resulting frustration made Poladra very unpredictable. Unlike her sister - with her mild-mannered and easy-going temperament - she was volatile and known for erratic mood swings even as a child. The sorceress had learned to control her outbursts to ensure her release last year but being thwarted in her endeavours hadn't helped and she was struggling to maintain her composure.
Her initial attempts at locating the Temple of the Blood Moon had proven to be futile so her focus had shifted. Finding the Black Void garden in Wehnimer's Landing had helped but without her grandmother Sahese's ring and book – still in Rohese's possession despite every effort to obtain them - Poladra knew she would be unable to call upon the full arcane power of the moons to help her achieve her goal, and all her attempts at using blood magic had failed dismally so far too.
Fatigue. That was all that lived in her mind. Fatigue and frustration. Poladra found it difficult to think, to move, to find the energy to do anything at all but she couldn't stop now. She had set herself upon this path and there was no turning back. In need of something to restore her physical strength, she had returned to the garden; the trees would provide sustenance, albeit briefly and at a cost but it was a price she was willing to pay.
Poladra scratched at the bark of the oily black tree with her broken and blackened fingernail. One of the branches twisted down and started to gouge away at her arm, digging deep into the skin. As a piece of bark came loose from the trunk, the branch ripped the flesh away and wound its way back up into the mass of other branches with its grisly prize.
Plucking a glistening black apple from the tree, she sank her teeth hungrily into the fleshy fruit. Warm blood oozed out of its center, filling her mouth and satiating her immediate need. The intense pain lacing the skin of her arm revived her somewhat and the fog that had dulled her thoughts all morning lifted. Tearing a strip of fabric from the hem of her underrobe, she wrapped it around the raw wound on the inside of her forearm and pulled the knot tight with her teeth.
Feeling a little better, Poladra reached into her robe pocket. About the size of a fingernail, the cracked fragment that she withdrew contained several branching fissures that pulsed and glowed like embers in a waning campfire. Just holding the bizarre object in her hand soothed her troubled mind a little and she gazed deeply into it as if entranced. Using its influence to pierce the veil between the planes of existence, an other-worldly landscape filled her vision and she reached in to pull a tiny nacreous humanoid skeleton with bat wings and a scorpion tail back into her current temporal sphere. The skeleton whimpered and cowered, recalling their last encounter when the sorceress had flung it angrily at a wall before sending it to back to its own plane for failing in its duty.
Poladra pondered the pitiful creature and wondered why she had recalled it. It was a constant reminder of her unsuccessful attempts to pierce the veil in her search for a necleriine; not just any necleriine but one whose unholy birth she had witnessed two decades ago. The vathor monstrosity that had created it still haunted her sleep but she had been in awe of its power. Its bestial screams and unearthly howls echoed in her ears during many of her nightmares and the memories of the horror it had unleashed in the form of the profane and perverted parody of her treacherous ex-fiancé stayed with her, driving her on.
Thoughts of possibly possessing similar abilities one day had consumed her every waking moment since. Her determination to find that particular necleriine would merely add to her sense of satisfaction and serve as a fitting end to her quest; a cruel joke to remind herself that she could not trust anyone and betrayal came at a price.
Poladra spoke calmly to the creature and it nodded vehemently in reply, eager to please. Scampering up her bandaged arm, it stretched its leathery wings and settled itself on her shoulder to await further instruction. She reached for a second apple to sustain herself for a while longer as her thoughts turned to considering what her next move should be.
The recent unrest in Ta'Illistim had worked in her favour. Poladra had been able to move freely along its vars and weys without fear of being recognised; what was one more cloaked and hooded elf trying to avoid the angry mob. A delicious thrill rippled through her body at the thought of almost being caught by Mirkk on the Green earlier though; it wasn't time for that encounter quite yet. Soon though!
The hint of a smile that crossed her face for a brief moment quickly faded as she recalled the latest setback in her plans. She was tired of being thwarted at every turn and seemingly by her younger sister each time. She's smarter than I gave her credit for. I underestimated her.
A visit to the Illithien Aerie earlier that morning had revealed a few surprises in that it not only had new owners – something that her grandmother, Avaie Illithien, had failed to tell her – but that its renovation had also been quite extensive.
Fortunately, one of the many Winedotters who had been employed by her maternal grandparents was still in residence and, more importantly, still loyal to the Illithien family. The gnome had gladly scurried off in search of some of Poladra's possessions but had come back empty-handed with some feeble explanation about a storeroom and no sign of the small black fel case she had specifically been sent to retrieve.
The contents of that particular case had been her last hope: a silver-worked black leather notebook and an iridescent wood opal ring. Whilst they were nowhere near as potent as the book and opal ring currently in Rohese’s possession, they still had their uses. Learning that they had recently been discovered by the Aerie's new owner and sent to her sister was the final insult.
Pacing the room that she had taken at the Moonglae Inn, Poladra could feel the anger she had managed to suppress all morning bubbling to the surface as she thought about this latest setback. She clenched her fist tightly muttering curses under breath, oblivious to the beads of blood forming beneath her jagged fingernails as they bit deep into the flesh of her palm. Her skeletal companion had sensed the impending rage and hidden itself beneath the bed for fear of being made the target of his mistress's wrath again. Cowering in the shadows, it flinched with each expletive and explosion as the sorceress disintegrated anything that happened to find itself in her sights.
Then, Poladra remembered the doll and her mood quickly changed again. Rummaging through her trunk, she pulled out porcelain-faced doll that she had lifted from Rohese’s old room in Nendelomea last year. I wonder ...
It Ends
Follow the Lilacs
Shortly after the Ebon Gate Festival, Rohese and Mirkk returned home to the Sylvanfair Manse in Ta'Illistim. One morning, while Mirkk was in the city, Rohese was tending the lilac trees in the courtyard when she was "taken" by her sister, Poladra.
What followed was a short quest for Mirkk who tracked Poladra and Rohese by "following the lilacs" (through a series of in-game clues and vignettes in a designated discord server). Mirkk discovered that Rohese had been taken west to be used in a ritual that would see Poladra attempt to gain the power she craved.
"Inkpot Gods" ~ The Amazing Devil
The Marlu Working
Born from a selfish desire to be a powerful sorceress, Poladra had embarked on a perilous journey into the unknown and taken a lot of risks along the way. Ostracised by the Bayvel family for cursing her sister, she had doubled her efforts and tonight would see the culmination of decades worth of study and sacrifice.
Encircled by the seven trees in what was colloquially known as Goblyn's Garden, Poladra finally felt confident of success. It had taken direct action in the end but Rohese was here and she had everything she needed to complete the ritual. Her pitiful sister had barely spoken and was sitting nearby, her arms tightly wrapped around her knees and cloth-swaddled face buried into the blood-stained linen of the chemise covering them. Poladra ignored her for now; she needed to focus on her preparations. Her grandmother had warned her that even the slightest error could have disastrous consequences.
The air was thick with the scent of cruor and decomposition. A low, haunting chant thrummed in the air as Poladra positioned herself before the meticulously drawn summoning circle on the ground. The intricate patterns marked on the charred soil glowed slightly with a sickly red hue, pushing back the darkness of the void enough so that she could see the equidistant branches and mirrored root system within the circle.
Opening the small drawstring bag tied at her waist, she pulled out a handful of small runestones and odd-shaped crystals, examining each in turn. Satisfied with the spread of the ritual tree, she slowly paced its circumference, carefully placing each runestone and crystal within the appropriate spiral at the end of each branch and root. The thrumming noise intensified, broken only by the sound of an occasional fruit falling to the ground with a dull thud.
Stepping over to Rohese, she crouched down and lifted her sister’s chin with her hand.
"For all that love supposedly brightens, dear sister, it casts a long shadow. To lose true love is the path to darkness. One day, you will understand this too because you will lose him, whether to time or to another."
Rohese forced her head away with a defiant jerk and Poladra laughed. The chilling sound faded quickly in the ichor-clogged air around them.
"You will give me Amma's ring, one way or the other. You can choose to do so freely now or I will simply take it when I am ready." Rohese merely resumed her position, burying her face back into her bent knees.
Poladra hissed dismissively and rose. "As you wish!" The darkness seemed to close in and the woven roots on the ground around Rohese curled and uncurled, reweaving themselves into a slightly altered pattern. Whether it was their inherent magic or simply fear on her part, something kept her immobilised.
Poladra brushed her thumb over the rough surface of the last stone in her hand, feeling the outline of a tentacle carved on one side and the "gate" rune inscribed on the other. With a flourish of her other hand, she drew a steel lancet from her pocket. It gleamed momentarily in the dim light. Drawing the razor-sharp edge across her palm, she allowed the crimson blood to coat the runestone, which seemed to absorb it. Then, placing the final stone into the centre of the configuration, she watched as the sanguine glow around it intensified. The ritual tree was completed and she was ready to begin the rite.
With each phrase of her incantation, Poladra's voice became louder and more urgent. The circle pulsed with an otherworldly energy and the atmosphere grew heavy with anticipation as the portal to an alternate plane began to shimmer above the blood-spattered stone.
But something was wrong. A burst of horrified screeches ripped through the darkness overhead. Poladra's eyes stayed fixed on the ritual tree as she continued her invocations; she couldn't afford to let her concentration break for a moment. In so doing, she failed to see her sister rise slowly to her feet behind her.
"What do we do with our fears, Rohese?"
"Show them the light, Amma."
With her grandmother's words filling her thoughts, Rohese gripped a droplet of ghost blue amber tightly in her fist and began to murmur her own orison. Finally understanding the significance of the tattoo tracing her spine, she called on the power of her grandmother's ring to draw down the light of the unseen Liabo moon.
The portal's inky colours flickered against the sudden onslaught of light and Poladra stumbled over her words for the briefest moment. Panic flashed across her face as she realized that her control over the ritual was slipping. From the unstable portal, the hazy outline of a hand emerged, followed by the faceless visage of a shien. Its tenuous form writhed beneath a swirling shroud of shadow as it forced its way through the wavering aperture.
Still blindfolded, Rohese was unable to see anything but she could hear and sense the horrors unfolding around her. Encased in the protection of the lucent beam now piercing the darkness, she tried to block out all smells and sounds as wave upon wave of nausea washed over her.
Poladra tried to step back, to break her connection to the ritual, but it was too late. The dense shadow snatched her by the wrist, its grip like a vice. She cried out as the darkling pulled her toward the portal. Desperation filled the sorceress's eyes as she struggled against the demon’s relentless grasp, but her strength waned with each passing second. The portal's unstable energies enveloped her, and her pleas were drowned out by deafening screeches.
With a desperate glance back at the sister she was leaving behind, Poladra and the darkling were swallowed whole by the swirling vortex, and the portal snapped shut, plunging the garden back into an eerie silence.
The summoning circle, now devoid of life, began to fade, its power spent and the shaft of light around Rohese waned. The garden returned to darkness, the cloying scent of blood lingering in the air as a chilling reminder of the failed ritual and the sorceress's ill-fated attempt to harness the power of the Marlu.
Rohese sank to the ground, alone in the void and bereft of any emotion.
Sound of Silence
It is said that fear is nothing more than a state of mind.
Rohese stirred. There was nothing but blackness. The blindfold was still over her eyes and she was too afraid to remove it. Silence but for an occasional drip of water. She shifted her position slightly. Intense pain shot through her body but dulled slowly as she sat perfectly still in the stygian dark.
So tired. She had lost a lot of blood and not eaten for days. Fear. That was all that filled her mind. She found it too difficult to think, to move, to find the energy to do anything at all. And then she heard it: Mirkk's voice. She heard him call her name and she started to cry.
Author's Notes
Nendelomea is the ancestral home of the Bayvel family. It is located on the far north eastern shore of the Lake of Shadowed Sorrows. Often shrouded in mist, the extensive private estate boasts a large gabled residence with stables, a boathouse, a well-stocked fishing lake, all surrounded by orchards, meadows, and ancient woodlands through which runs a river (yet to be named).