Before the situation can get out of hand, I quickly state, “So, I hear our best buddy Lil spent some time here. Are assassination attempts a daily occurrence at the Enochian Enclave?”
The crazy-eyed man takes in our visages with wildly shifting eyes that flick about between us. As his hand reaches up to stroke his goatee, Jarrah Bettergrove answers in an otherworldly voice, “Nay, only when one of our several queens manages to dox us to the entire city. Lil indeed spent time here with their lifemate and hound. I take it you are Reggie, and that she is Teuila. Lil spoke of no other save Mataalii, and I doubt that that one is he. I especially doubt the possibility since that individual is little more than a walking corpse.”
Every muscle in my body stiffens upon his speaking, and I find myself struggling to stretch and loosen my jaw. Teuila looks similarly uncomfortable. Dawn seems to be suffering no discomfort, thankfully. The tightness in every muscle is a feeling unlike most others I’ve ever experienced. The closest comparison I have is when fight or flight mechanisms engage into overdrive. Every inch of me is tensed, bunched, coiled, ready to spring forth either to flee or to battle. Worse, I realize I’m standing with bated breath, unable to even gasp for air as an intense pressure bears down on me. Looking at Teuila reveals that she’s similarly not breathing at the moment. Dawn of course suffers from no such effect.
The enchantment on the neck-chain kicks in and allows me to re-breathe my own breath without having to draw in new air. The short woman gives each of us a look-over, clucking her tongue as she makes note of the blood seeping from joints in my armor. This draws Teuila’s attention to my wounds as well. I’m uncertain what we should be doing at the moment, not that I can perform many actions. As Jarrah finishes speaking, my muscles finally uncoil, and I hear Teuila gasp a sudden breath.
Dawn responds to Jarrah, “Hey, I may be dead, but I’m right here. I’m not an ancestor or some other kind of zombie ya jerk.”
Now that we’ve experienced it, whatever magical intent he had put behind his voice shouldn’t affect us as strongly the next time he tries it. Between Teuila’s natural resilience, and my own quick-study of things in the realm of magic and supernatural powers, we should be able to act normally. I am after all, a cryptozoologist. Jarrah is definitely neither human, nor fae. Palming my staff once more, I cast the aura sensing spell from it. Jarrah’s soul is blinding, a sun condensed into a sphere and stuffed inside a mortal shell. It bleeds forth from every pore, a radiance unlike almost anything I’d ever seen. Almost. My hackles raise as I grit my teeth. Radiance is something that corrupted my home world, Can’Z’aas. It bled into my planet’s lifestream. Radiance even almost killed Teuila and me since we’d been drawing on its power unconsciously. Worse, here on Rayileklia, I’m almost positive that the primary source of radiance is the Celestial Emperor.
I steel my gaze as I furrow my brow, trying to suss Jarrah out. Jarrah laces his voice with that forceful intent once more, but I cross my arms as I stare him dead in the eyes. Teuila follows suit as Jarrah speaks, “My words were not intended as an unkindness. I’m sorry in advance of what will transpire for you. As for you Reggie, and you Teuila, it would seem Lil’s praise of you was not unwarranted. Most take days, weeks to become accustomed to my true voice, if they’re ever able. Even Lil and Luni took hours. Color me impressed.”
Teuila growls back, “Whatever it is, try it again and we’ll see if you can even talk after I’m through with you. No one leaves my Airhead breathless but me.”
My jaw hangs slack as my index finger remains hooked, half caught between pointing and curling back towards my chin. A round of snickering from several of the gathered individuals quickly becomes chuckling. The chuckling devolves into full on laughter after mere moments. Teuila looks mildly confused only momentarily before she facepalms. She turns away to hide her blushing face.
Even Jarrah laughs with that deeply unnerving, otherworldly voice. It no longer has power over any of us however, so it simply registers as some unidentifiable sonic irritant. The tension in the room slowly lifts as the short woman binds the wounds of the assailant I’d stabbed. She sets a splint over the knee of the other man, as I must have at least dislocated his knee. Definitely dislocated at minimum, if I didn’t snap anything around the kneecap area. She ushers the three out, and another six that limp down the stairs, bruised and battered. I let loose a sigh of relief as I clap my hand to my forehead before running it back through my hair. The nine aggressors are sent packing, each limping and supporting one another as they appear bewildered, almost lost. It’s almost as if they don’t even remember why they’re here, or how they got here.
Dawn continues to watch the nine as they trudge away. She then nudges Teuila while asking, “Boss, you want I should sneak off or anything?”
Teuila turns back to face everyone and shakes her head as she responds, “Nah Dawny, I think we’re good. Thanks for taking out the one at my back earlier. Alright Eenookie buddies, where’s my Lil dragbutt. Phinny said to ask around, that anyone Lil had hung around would probably have guesses.”
The short woman, and Jarrah questioningly mouth, “Eenookie buddies?” voicelessly as they take in Teuila’s request. The sleazy, sandy-haired man grins madly, perhaps enjoying the implication a tad much.
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Jarrah shakes his head, almost laughing under his breath, almost. His answer is disheartening, “As a favor to Lil, I’m unable to tell you until you’ve passed a week in the Wild Heart. You’re free to journey onward in search of your friends of course, but you’re unlikely to find them.”
My heart drops into the pit of my stomach, and Teuila deflates as she adopts a hunched, crestfallen appearance. Te pleads, “What? But. But why wouldn’t they want to see us? It’s been a month. My Lu, my little Lu. Even if Lil was still mad, why, why would they ask that?”
Jarrah’s countenance is stern as he answers, “I’ve limited information with which to conjecture as to your friends’ true feelings upon their departure. Regardless of what I may be able to fathom, I won’t share it with you until a week has passed. I assume that you arrived on the fourth.” We nod, it must be around midnight, so it might be the fifth by now. Jarrah continues, “In that case, on the eleventh I will direct you with what help I can offer.”
I slump to my knees and shuffle slightly to lean against the nearest wall. Lil. Lil do you hate me? Do you never want to see me again? Is that why you asked for help delaying us? How far across this world might you be able to travel with a week’s lead time? I thought, I thought we were friends of undying loyalty forever. I, I suppose dying technically voids that, maybe. My eyes wet with tears and I fight back a sob. I drag a ragged, shuddering breath and let it loose as a sigh that becomes a yawn.
Teuila stands at my shoulder, her hand resting lightly upon my crown. Dawn hugs her own torso as she glances around anxiously, uncertain of her own place in the scheme of things currently. That tears it. I can’t focus on my pain, or the myriad list of possibilities involving Lil’s feelings towards us. I need to focus on Dawn’s soul.
I fight my own feelings, bottling them up as I draw another ragged breath while standing. I let determination color my countenance as I demand, “I can see some of the truth of you. Do you have the same power over souls that he does? I want you to sever the curse on Dawn’s soul.”
A pall is cast over the assembled as I draw comparison between Jarrah and the Celestial Emperor without so much as speaking his name. The short woman appears incredibly confused, but the lanky, sandy-haired man looks almost snide as he stares at Jarrah. It appears he’s as eager to hear Jarrah’s response as I am.
Jarrah makes no effort to answer, he only studies me carefully. I frown as I continue, “Barring that, if somehow you’re unable, do you know anything of the magic of this world? I believe I’d learn faster with a teacher. I need to learn faster. You can sense it, can’t you? How little time I have to correct this, this, this atrocity. One perpetrated by your ilk if I’m not misunderstanding things.”
Jarrah wears that same crazed expression, but drops his forehead into his left palm. Jarrah orders, “Flint, would you please guide Alanea home. Make certain she arrives safely, then feel free to do whatever it is you do in the late of night.” He then quickly adds, ”On your own, elsewhere.” Jarrah mutters conspiratorially to Flint and Alanea, “It seems I’ve some guests to entertain. Ms Whifflewillow, do refrain from speaking with anyone about what has transpired tonight for some time to come, please. That goes double for you Mr. Darklace. We have to sort out the cantankerous cur behind the influence without giving away that we’re on to them.”
So these are Alanea Whifflewillow and Flint Darklace, the other two longest surviving members of the Enochian Enclave. Flint eyes Alanea up and down, and she visibly shudders under his gaze. In an instant his gaze softens, and drops the licentiousness. He appears almost apologetic, and Alanea adopts a relieved expression as Flint leads her away. I wonder if I read him incorrectly as a lecherous deviant earlier. Then again, everyone else, Jarrah included, seems to think something similar of him.
Still, despite Jarrah seeming to be some celestial creature, such as an angel, it does seem like the Enochian Enclave is on the— Sigh. On the side of the angels. I had that one coming I suppose. I just mean on the morally better side of things. Anyway, Enochian is the name given to the language supposedly passed down by angels in the time of Enoch, or something like that. So I should have already been prepared. Still, I don’t really get a soul-stealing vibe from Jarrah. I do however get a mild migraine from the voluminous luminance pouring forth from Jarrah, so I let the aura vision enhancement spell drop.
Jarrah beckons as he turns to climb the spiral staircase. He calls back, with no mysterious magical tone or intent behind his words, “Please, visitors to this world, and, hm, friend, come. Please join me at the top of the Enclave. You seem more well-traveled upon Rayileklia, and more knowledgeable about its woes than your friend Lil. I’m sure you have more questions. One I can answer on the climb however is that no, I cannot, do not, have the power to release this one from their fel-broodspawn curse.”
Hellspit. I was afraid he’d say something like that. Regardless, at least he’s willing to talk openly, honestly. I glance at Dawn who appears crestfallen again. I wish I had some way to comfort her, to assure her that I can do this. I don’t have faith in my abilities though. I haven’t even been able to sort through all the books and tomes and papers that we received from Milbert yet to discern their possible enchantments or contents. I don’t have any idea if even a single one contains any soul related spells, or if even such a spell exists at all. The whole spell-curse thing cast by that proselytizing high priest of the Bright Lord cult could be some weird power that only the Celestial Emperor has. An ability that might even be soul-fueled in order to enact. Could I, would I abuse and use up the souls of others to save Dawn’s?
Am I willing to spend souls, utterly destroying them, in order to save one, if that’s what it comes down to? Would Dawn even want me to if I came upon the ability? I’m sure she doesn’t want to see the Ancestors wrought to dust. But would she forgive me if a counter-spell cost semi-innocent, or innocent souls? I’m sickened by even just the prospect of such a possibility. And yet. Yes, and yet I find myself willing. For friends, for family, for loved ones, I’d burn an entire world away to save them. No wonder I gave Luni the reins of the timeline though on this particular lap from past to future.