“You know, you almost make it sound possible.” The Hecatian shrugged. “Saving the world, I mean.”
Alma jumped forward and wrapped her arm around Hwalín’s neck, smiling widely and trying subtly to keep her gaze away from the hauntingly occupied corner. “Alright. Enough mush. I’m dying to hear how this ends. What happened at the oasis?”
“We all ran towards the flowers, naturally. They were dotting the water’s edge the whole way around. Virises, Hasters, Tencellas, Clupines—a bloody smorgasbord of the finest desert blooms you’ve ever seen. It didn’t stand out to me at the time, but I recall these bloody ominous pillars bleeding into the canyon walls. Maybe if we had observed the area a little harder… But instead, first thing I did was lap up some of that shimmering water. Thought maybe the hydration would ebb the headache. Instead, we got an earful of a strange, new sound. It was some kind of intensely… impossible noise. There’s no way I can find to describe it. All I remember is the blaring heat suddenly coming down from the sky and the feeling of my blood hackles on edge. You ever wonder what it’d sound like if the sun made a noise? That’s the feeling I got that day.” Hwalín let out a pained sigh. Unpleasant memories were slowly flooding back and it began to feel as if she were pushing herself to finish her story. The others that were listening to her story were no longer smiling. “The ache from that sound was so much. It felt like it was trying to kill us. Slaughter us for trying to encroach on its sacred land. I remember a hot trickling from my ears as the blood dripped from inside my head. Everyone but me fainted—or died. I’m not sure anymore. I tried to wake them. Rouse ‘em from whatever bloody ailment had knocked them out. But the sound. It was killing me to stay there. I was scared and I didn’t want to stick around there any longer than I had to. So, like a coward, I took their flowers for myself and finally just tried to run outta there. But I think that final act of gutlessness finally managed to wake ‘em up. Because as soon as I was on my way out, they were all suddenly on me. Loony, mindless bastards. I thought maybe they were just angry at me, but as I looked at them, it were as if their souls were missing. Just… gone. Their eyes rolled back in their heads, scrambling across the sands to get to me. I screamed. Yelled at them to snap out of it. They just kept scrambling, silent as the grave.”
“Holy shit, Hwal. What the fuck kind of mess did you get yourself into? Or rather, get your ass out of?”
“Aw, mate. I’ve been through the thick of it. Them lads, whatever was left of ‘em, wouldn’t let up. Closest one grabbed hold of my tail. Squeezing it in a death grip. Weren’t for the adrenaline… I don’t know. Well, being the big brain that I am, I had left my swords at home. They were precious gifts from my parents and I wasn’t about to lose them in the middle of nowhere. All I had was a sharp dagger I’d been using to cut away the flowers with. So, I stabbed ‘im. Repeatedly. Stabbed his hands all over, his grip didn’t weaken. I remember aiming for his face a few times too. Gruesome sight that still haunts my dreams. Whatever curse had taken them over seemed to make them forget what pain was.”
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And that’s when you decided to…” Alma grimaced. “That must’ve been painful.”
“Yep. Cutting through bone and dragging him along while I ran for what seemed like ages. Looking back, I’m not even sure how I did it. There’s still a bit of a stub there, covered up by my shorts. Won’t catch me griping about it. Least my perfect arse ain’t covered up anymore,” said Hwalín, rubbing and spanking her behind. “Speaking of my arse, I’d gotten my bleedin’ one outta there after that. Never looked back. Never heard from or saw those lads ever again. The whole thing was pretty traumatic. Lotta blood loss, pretty much fainted when I got home. Woke up with a shaman telling me if it weren’t for the rare flowers they found in my pockets, I might not have made it.”
“Fascinating. All of these incidents happening at once, sewing discord in their wake. An attack—or defense—using former comrades to eliminate the unaffected party. A trap, perhaps?”
“What? You cookin’ up a theory about my infernal descent there, Nia?”
“I have a few. Of which I do not believe will make any sense within your limited context. I will say, however, you are very lucky. And that brings us to the question as to why you were solely unaffected.”
“That’s the lingering bloody question of my life, innit? I have no idea. There weren’t anything special about me. Not that I know of. The only thing I could think of was that I took a sip from the water.”
“That would explain some things,” noted Qu’l-Nia. “And I surmise that was also the day your hearing had undergone a difficult change. Much like Alma’s vision, the mystical properties of that water attuned your hearing to a level beyond your comprehension. And I recall that impairment is what had plagued you until I re-attuned your aural sensitivities and shared with you the othering as my chosen.”
“Huh? Re-attuned? But I thought—” Alma’s confusion had gotten cut short by the timely sound of someone slapping the door open.
Alright, Alma,” said a loud voice from the entrance to the parlor. The witch Heloise had returned, now swaddled in a soft, silken bathrobe that clung intimately to her body. Her blonde hair was wrapped in a towel atop her head and her face was covered in a sickly green, exfoliating facial mask. “I’ve given it some thought, and even though I’m strangely agreeing to all of this awfully fast, I’ve decided to help you on your quest.”