“I presume…” started Qu’l-Nia. “You have noticed what has been going on. Even in your limited form, you should have sensed the gravitational anomalies surfacing from this planet.”
“Indeed,” replied Derleth. “Disturbances caused by ritualistic meddling—or so my probes tell me.”
“...Your probes?” The eldritch woman had momentarily stopped in her tracks before continuing again. “Your power is returning then. I am amazed that Guiltine has not noticed. I did not think she would ever again give you even the slightest opportunity to siphon the souls of childlings.”
“Or perhaps something else has kept her far too distracted that it finally slipped her mind,” he hissed. There was a sort of irritation in his voice. “The gestaltian was never going to be able to hold me forever. A fact that they knew all too well.”
“Wait, wait,” interrupted Alma, who had been trailing close behind and eavesdropping on their conversation. “Our gestaltian is the one who locked you in here?”
Derleth looked over to Qu’l-Nia who nodded to him, then turned to face Alma. “That is correct, Daughter of Man. She was commanded by the Elder Dwellers to keep me and my power sealed in here.”
The sniperess raised an eyebrow at the strange title he had given her. But another title had caught her ear. A distant memory scratched at the back of her thoughts but faded almost as quickly as it appeared. “Elder Dwellers?”
“Our people,” answered Qu’l-Nia. She was glaring at Derleth’s back. “Do not forget it was your own arrogance that brought upon your downfall, Derleth. And I am the one charged to deal with you if you escape. Do not test my goodwill simply because I decided to pay you a visit of my own accord.”
“How many winters has it been, Cailleach-Niamh? Always opposing me? Always getting in my way?” He turned toward her rather dramatically, whipping his cloak aside. “Never just standing aside. Never returning to my side.”
“And look where your machinations have gotten you. Perhaps you are right. Perhaps imprisoning you here was a grave mistake. Because as far as I can tell, you have gained no benefit and have only gotten worse in your time here. I still regard you as a dangerous individual and if this were not a matter of the direst consequences, I would have never come here. And though you do your best to hide it, you are still as driven by your paltry emotions as you always were and I know for a fact that your instinct to survive will drive you to aid me whether you wish to or not.”
The silver glint in Derleth’s eyes blazed with an intense ferocity as he glared at Qu’l-Nia. There was no telling whether he would snap and strike at her and Alma was becoming increasingly worried by the second. But right as she opened her mouth to protest, Derleth finally spoke.
“You haven’t changed a single iota, Dancer.” He approached her slowly. Even in his human form, he was towering over her by several feet. He smiled and gently brushed a few of her platinum locks away from her face. “Still as radiant as all time, like the star over the Cerenerian Sea. I would have aided you regardless of the reason.”
“Blimey, Nia!” Hwalín was gobsmacked. “I didn’t know you had it in you! Literally. I did not know you had it in you to charm another living being.”
“Derleth is merely retreading an antiquated fragment of a remnant of a life that no longer exists, perhaps to garner my sympathy.” Qu’l-Nia smirked softly, her eyes searching his for some underlying design. “A meaningless approach, as the majority of that time I do not even seem to recall.”
“Good!” shouted Alma. “I’m glad you two sorted out that little wrinkle. Need I remind you I’m still currently freezing my ass off?” She looked from Qu’l-Nia to Derleth. “S-Sir.”
“Alma…” Qu’l-Nia frowned.
“Of course, Daughter of Man. It is my honor to serve you.” responded Derleth. He pointed to a crudely made structure sitting just a few feet ahead of them. “There is a fire pit there. Use it and warm yourself.”
“Your honor…?” The ex-soldier felt a slight awkwardness at that. She waved her arms deniably in front of her. “N-No. You’re the one in charge here, aren’t you? I’m simply her attaché. And in matters of diplomacy, the visiting power always defers to the head of… s-state.” She looked from side to side “…Domain? Treehouse?”
Derleth watched Alma for a moment, examining her features. An action that made the markswoman break into a cold sweat.
“Get a move on, mate.” Hwalín came over and placed a hand on Alma’s shoulder, forcefully leading her toward the fire pit. The two quickly became preoccupied trying to light it.
“Exactly how much did you inform her of the extent of her abilities?” Derleth asked Qu’l-Nia.
“Enough,” the eldritch woman answered.
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“I had felt a miniscule portion of that energy for the past 21 winters and could never understand the source of it or where to locate it.” His dark eyes turned back toward Alma. “Until sometime after you arrived on this planet and now here you bring it straight to me.”
“It all happened by pure chance.”
“Something like this does not happen by pure chance. I know you are aware this is not an ordinary othering. You found this one, but have you not realized what it was that blessed her with it?”
“I considered it, then quickly cast that consideration aside. The thought alone frightened me. I did not wish to think that girl would be punished so.”
“It would be foolish to deny what has been in front of your face for days.” Derleth lowered his voice, in what seemed an uncharacteristic defensive measure. “This is the power of an Outer One.”
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“Just who is it he’s meeting with out there anyway…?” Zulema had quickly grown curious as to what other powerful being Derleth could be having secret collusions with. Books could keep her only so entertained when her real world was currently being turned upside-down. She attempted to sneak outside of her hiding place, but had suddenly realized that the portal marked as her exit was a completely solid slab of ice. “Blasted! That bastard locked me in here! I'm not your captive maiden, Derleth! Do you hear me?! I'm a human woman and I've trained far too much to put up with this wulfshit!”
The priestess pressed her face against the icy door, trying her hardest to get a peek around the corner outside. The world outside appeared distorted through the glacial lens of the door, making it more difficult for her to parse anything outside. After what seemed countless minutes of struggle, she finally managed to pick up the sound of some voices. Unfortunately, they were all mostly too muffled for her to make out anything coherent. She sighed as her body slid slowly down the door defeatedly.
“Who am I kidding? I am just another innocent maiden—trapped under the deep sway of a large and powerful man. Woe is me. Right, little one?” A sad smile crept along her face as she spoke to one of the miniature little constructs walking around. One of them had wandered toward her while she had been mumbling to herself and oddly seemed to be pushing against her foot. She picked it up and held it up to her face. “You can sense my melancholy, can’t you? For you, this is your whole world. But this world is not for me. I have a home to go back to. Friends and family waiting for me to return. A Goddess who watches over me. Yes. As soon as I’m powerful enough, I will escape that man’s grasp. I—”
A sound outside made the priestess sit up. It was a voice. A familiar voice that seemed very out of place, and that terrified her instantly. “Alma—?” She placed the little automaton down and stood up, pressing herself against the frozen door once again. She peered through the ice as much as she could, trying to get a look at what was happening outside. “No. It couldn’t be. That’s impossible—”
Zula’s mind went blank as the figure of her sister entered the field of view through the door. She slammed on the ice with her fist.
“ALMA!” Zulema was screaming at the top of her lungs. “ALMA, IT’S ME! YOU NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE! RUN AWAY!!”
Zulema’s screams failed to reach Alma’s ears. The ex-soldier was walking around, digging through the snow for pieces of wood. She seemed oblivious to the cries of her sister.
“Alma… What are you even doing here?” Zulema mumbled to herself. “Is this where your adventure has led you, sister? Straight into the monster’s den? What possible plans could Derleth have with you?” She banged one more time, futilely. “I swear I’ll protect you from him… He can have me, but no one will ever lay a finger on you.”
Alma turned toward the enormous tree. Her eyes narrowing as if they detected something. She was looking right at where her sister was standing. A spark of renewed hope lit up in Zulema’s eyes.
“Alma!” The priestess cried once more. She was pointing at herself rather desperately. “Can you see me? It’s Zula! I’m here! I’m right here! Please! Please say you can see me!”
If Zulema’s sister could see her, it certainly didn’t show on her face. Alma inched closer to the entrance of the secret room. Something had caught her eye, but it didn’t seem to be her sister. She slowly reached her hand out toward where Zulema was standing.
“Alma?”
Alma turned away; her attention grabbed by something just out of view.
“No—! Alma, wait!” Zulema screamed, punching and kicking at the frozen portal in front of her, watching helplessly as her sister walked away. Mustering up her anger, the ex-Scarlet Sister’s arm shot out to her side, forming the handle of a familiar glacial scythe in her hand. The frosted crystals in the air swirled together around the shaft to form a brilliant, curved blade that was sharper than any knife. With all her might, she gripped the weapon in both hands until pain shot through her arms. She rose her scythe and attempted to cut a swathe through the door. The tip slid gracefully along the portal, leaving it with only the tiniest scratch etched into the ice. “Damn it! Fuck! Open, damn you!” She continued her flurry of attacks—the blade glinting off the light pouring in with each swing—and her screaming for her sister continued all the way. Her attempts to cleave through the immovable, ethereal gateway were sadly, to no avail.
There was a sudden strange feeling pressing against the priestess’s foot. One of the tiny, crystalline automatons was trying to get her attention.
“Huh?” Her voice had grown hoarse and her frigid breathing ragged. “W-What is it, little one? D-Do you know a way to open this door?”
The small thing, as if in response, began to slowly climb up her leg. Followed by another. Then another.
“What is this?! What are you doing?! Get off me!” Zulema started to panic. More of the small army of familiars had all started to march toward her. She swung her blade at them, but there proved to be too many to clear away at once. “Don’t come any closer!”
More continued to slowly scale her body, swarming all over her like frozen little insects. They had already reached her waist and showed no signs of stopping. She swiped at them like mad, but their relentless march pressed onward. They were soon to drown her completely.
“This is your doing, Derleth, you fiend! Stay away from my sister!” Their collective weight started to bare down on her, causing her to kneel. She kept her balance with her scythe. It was too late to stop what was happening. “I’ll murder you, you piece of shit! If it’s the last thing I do! You hear me, Derleth? I know these wicked little spies are relaying every word to you! You better kill me now, because if I survive this, you are fucking dead!”