Extra 8: Recovery of the Blessed

It was late morning by the time both Shreshka and Retlafeh had eaten and rested, as well as forced the delirious Hureheh to eat and drink a little.

Shreshka still felt horrible, but compared to the bone deep tiredness she felt before, it was a hundred times better.

Her companion was still sleeping, even further exhausted than even Shreshka and lacking the will to hide it any longer, so for the current moment she sat alone around a dying fire, contemplating with the faint mumbles of their new oracle serving as background noise.

She had tried to avoid thinking about Hureheh’s affliction since she had woken up, some mix of fear of committing heresy and other occupations preventing their contemplation in that area.

Perhaps it would be more practical to plan their next move as a group, but her curiosity was far too great, she needed to know what was happening.

From the looks of it, one thing was certain, Hureheh had been turned into an oracle of Orsha, though for what reason she could not possibly guess.

Usually, to become an oracle was something people were trained their whole life for, initiated with a grand ceremony and showing of Orsha’s illustrious form.

Yet for Hureheh, they were a slave on the run, far away from Reshraka and with not even the slightest hint of ceremony or purpose.

If it weren't for the presence of the third eye on his head and unmistakable memory of Orsha’s magic weaving its way through her companion, the woman would have never believed it.

“But why?” Shreshka whispered under her breath, what possible reason would there be for such utter destruction of every upheld tradition.

She wasn't one to question a god, yet even she couldn't resist a blasphemous thought of confusion.

“Shreshka”, Hureheh suddenly called, voice horse yet distinct against the crackles of the dying fire.

The woman in question nearly jumped with shock, not expecting anything of consequence from her companion, much less a name.

“Shreshka” the man called again, “Where are you?”

The former slave came to her senses, “I'm right in front of you, can't you see me?”

It was then she noticed that of Hureheh’s three eyes, only the one upon his forehead was open, looking frantically around the cave as if searching for something.

“I can't see you, why can I hear you but not see you”.

Shreshka didn't know how to answer that question, so she answered it with one of her own.

“What can you see?”

Hureheh was silent for a long moment, so long that she would have thought he had not heard her, was his eye not darting around trying to make sense of whatever landscape he foresaw.

“Its like…” he began, “its like someone attempted to tame the ocean and force it into shape, yet it refuses to be tamed, roiling and flowing in every direction at once”

“I am a part of this ocean, everything I see is, yet I am different just like the ground below my feet is in comparison to the air around me.”

“But its not air, and there is no ground, this is magic and only magic, magic that is trying to make some imitation of the real wor-” the oracle finished, bursting out into a series of coughs which cut his explanation short.

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Shreshka rushed forward to prevent her companion from trying to speak again, his throat no doubt raw from the events of the night.

Either way, more of an explanation would do little for Shreshka, Hureheh’s words were little more than mad ravings to her.

There was another moment of silence while the younger of the two Orshraka recovered, a moment in which Shreshka debated waking Retlafeh but figured otherwise, before Hureheh spoke once again.

“Why can't I see you?”, he asked again, apparently not realising his situation.

This time, the woman resolved to respond in the only way she knew how, telling the truth.

“You can't see me because your eyes are not open, why don't you open them?”

Hureheh physically recoiled at this news, as if a terrible truth they had never contemplated before had been revealed to him.

Furrows appeared across the former-slave's brow, apparently concentrating hard on achieving the most basic of bodily functions.

For an instant, the oracle’s eyes fluttered open, only for him to let out a pitiful yelp and crease them shut once again, head instantly in his hands.

“I can't do it, it's just too much.” he whispered in sorrow.

Seeing her comrade in pain, Shreshka approached and put her arm around him, which seemingly went unnoticed.

“It will be OK, we will figure out what to do.” she stated somewhat awkwardly, overall unused to comforting others.

The oracle didn't reply yet Shreshka figured he had heard her, so she asked one last question which had been burning at the back of her mind.

“Why did this happen, Hureheh, why did Orsha bless you like this.” she whispered, as if her heretical words would be heard and punishments ensue.

The man turned to face the sound of her voice, eyes still tightly closed.

“We…” he began with reverence, “we have all been tasked with a duty, directly from Orsha.”

“Our saviour, a Golem named Wanderer, is the only one capable of fixing a great mistake made by Orsha, we have all been tasked with aiding them in whatever way we are able”.

Shreshka was taken aback.

“This is no time to joke, Hureheh, I am serious!” she yelled, certain that Orsha would never place something so important upon someone like her.

The oracle replied with grim determination, “I am not joking.”

And just like that, Shreshka was convinced, their comrade's tone too resolute to allow argument.

But this was impossible, for someone as insignificant as her, some fallen down and forgotten merchant's daughter forced into slavery before her life had even truly begun, to be chosen by a god.

“Why” she asked, more in question to herself than anyone in particular, it just didn't make sense.

Who was this Golem who not only saved them from captivity but was also the only being capable of fixing the regrets of a god, what mistake had been made that it required a ragtag, half starved group of slaves to fix when they weren't even in Reshraka.

“I suppose that we must head back home then, despite the danger, we can’t help our saviour from here.” she said.

To her shock, the reasonable suggestion was countered immediately, Hureheh managing to grip her hand as if to stop her from even thinking about leaving.

“We can not go back, it is forbidden.”

If Shreshka had seen the situation from afar, she might have thought the first emotion that would follow from this declaration would be shock, instead, what the woman felt was an intense sorrow.

She had known, belatedly, that she would likely never return to her homeland, the place where she was born and raised, yet knowing that it was not likely was a lot different than knowing it was impossible.

She had no capability of resisting the word of her god, who she had been trained to follow all her life.

She tried her best to hold back tears and stay strong, but the whole situation was finally starting to catch up with her.

Against her strongest will, a sob escaped her, which was soon followed by a wave of grief she could not contain.

Shreshka broke down on the floor, right next to Hureheh, a thousand emotions over a thousand different things needing release.

The oracle moved back a little, perhaps confused as to what exactly was happening and lacking the sight to confirm his suspicions.

Eventually, with a soft “oh”, the man caught up to speed, hesitantly seeking Shreshka’s shoulder to provide comfort.

Now, it was Hureheh’s turn to provide understanding, blinded and confused as he was.

“Your right you know…” He began, with a chuckle itching to surface from beneath his breath, “we will work everything out”.

The comfort didn't reduce Shreshka’s sorrows, but it added one more emotion to the confusing pile, a shared camaraderie that brought a tiny seed of hope to bloom.

She could only wish that Hureheh’s words were the truth.