Yardie (prime)/Truth Or-Consequences

Shadows danced around the plain residence, borne of a single candle flame. Its sensual sway created a faint light by which the Faendryl detective worked. Names, paintings, and words shifted from Yardie’s evidence board, reflecting the newsworthy information provided by Uhlen and Sirona later in the evening. Yardie stood at the center of the room, his booted feet tapping against the grey wool rug as he meticulously swept his eyes across his work.

Where Hyssch and Circle had originally branched into separate threads, a white strand of yarn connected them and made them whole, dispelling the henchmen theory. Hyssch had been the Iyo word for whatever the Circle represented, the nucleus of madness compacted in a sect of five; their power sparked through a unified mission of unleashing Hexah’Jing, the Ancient Filth.

Such blatant disregard for life…but Pashtal aimed for the same. Such is the will of Sheru and those who worship the Lornon.

On either side of the Circle were notes on two enigmatic souls. To the left, Kiyonna, the Sylvan, drawn to the Iyo with a guard of secrets slipping away like handfuls of sand through her fingertips. Something was off…about her.

And to the right, the Or-resh. Or, as Ordim had outed, Socius. Had he become a leader of “shadow warriors,” as Uhlen suggested? How many Iyo were of this Or- tribe?

And why wasn’t I invited?!

That innate Faendryl pride shot through like volcanic ash, but Yardie squashed it in a momentary display of maturity. Everyone had their role to play, and Socius fulfilled his charge of protecting the Isle uniquely. Perhaps this Or- group signaled the changing of the guard, a new wave of defenders for the Island of the Four Winds. If so, perhaps Socius would finally retreat elsewhere and know a peace that one rarely found in their line of work.

At the bottom, a torn parchment with the word “tome” is linked to a red strand with the Circle. Uhlen revealed a tome that wielded some power as the source that initiated the formation of the Hyssch. Like an evil seed, its pages took root in the hearts and minds of those who wished to see the island and the Iyo fall. Pashtal had a book similar in description, but Yardie concluded Uhlen’s inquiry to be of another tome.

Pashtal was no leader. He had no power. They gave him power, and they took it away when he failed.

The answer lay in the island of parchment to the far right of everything, the unknown prisoner set adrift by captivity and forsaken by his Circle. In the hands of the Or-resh, the captive would not talk. Broken bones and massive lacerations only served for those devoted to themselves. No, a gentler touch, a different approach called for this situation.

I’m venturing to do something…stupid. I have to reach out to Socius. Someway. Somehow.

Yardie took to his desk, reached for the quill behind his left ear, dipped it into some black ink, and began manuscripting his line of questioning.