Ugh, Jarrah’s as intense of a mentor as I expected he’d be. We’ve been at this incanting thing for most of the entire day, I think we returned around eight AM on the fifth, and it’s almost midnight. I’ve been practicing my second rune somewhat secretly the entire time, since apparently I can’t help but to subtly create my runes with some sort of metamagical empowerment. Trying to remain cognizant of my limits, I make sure there’s a several minute gap between most of my rune attempts, and if I start to get flagged, I rest while focusing on the incantation stuff.
I’m beginning to cough uncontrollably, and instead of phlegm, blood joins my spittle. Ugh, of course. Can Reggie Shellcracker handle doing any magic whatsoever without murdering their own body? Nope.
Jarrah orders, “Your throat needs rest, you’ve scratched it to, hmf, hell. Go, get warm fluids, soft sticky foods, sleep. Return in eight to twelve hours or so. I’m sure your Valkyrie and shy friend Dawn are eager to see you. The former was furious at these arrangements you know.”
I blush as I nod, not responding since my voice is ragged and my throat does feel shredded to hell. I’m not used to speaking so much, or singing at all. I haven’t succeeded at a single second of empowered incantation however. I huff an exasperated sigh at myself, trying to fight back tears. Not only did I not learn to incant, but I didn’t master even a second rune today.
I take my leave of Jarrah by bowing before walking quickly out. My head’s a bit hazy, but if I remember the morning correctly, Teuila was going to be studying some form of tai chi, or other chi related martial arts, and Dawn decided to join her. Jarrah insisted that his tutelage comes with the caveat of being distinctly one on one, private. Like Jarrah said, that pissed Teuila the hell off. My Wings, my beloved Valkyrie wants so badly to never leave my side again, she’s so worried about me, for me. I suppose she has good reason to be. I friggin’ get myself almost killed on the regular any time she’s not around. Okay, maybe a bit of an exaggeration, but we get the idea.
The Enclave is a much larger group than I was expecting, since Bastet only offered gratitude to three elder members. Fae men and women of all ages sit in silent study for some greater purpose, a concerted effort against the manxome foe. None of them have a mote of fanaticism or loyalty for the Enochian Enclave itself. Instead they seem to each have their own reasons for taking advantage of its resources, and each of those reasons has been vetted by Jarrah Bettergrove. Or perhaps Alanea Whifflewillow. Oh heck. I bet she secretly has spider related abilities. Eugh. The transposition of Ls and Rs in a certain Earth culture is rather common, and, well, Aranea is most definitely an arachnid reference. Fate really likes to screw with me it seems. I think it might be upset that I have the ability to screw back.
Okay, wow, that thought train just. Just ugh. Crash and burn. That’s what that did. I’m almost certain Jarrah has telepathy, so I’m glad I left his room before my brain went that direction and landed on that flub. I wonder if Atropos, Clotho, or Lachesis truly sit at some loom of fate in the grand cosmos somewhere situated between all realities. Stranger things have proven to be true in my life. Would they be hostile to me? Are they pissed that I absorbed draconic longevity? Have they been guiding me? Protecting me? Several people in my life have had guesses as to the meaning of my brushes with fate and destiny.
Gosh, look at that room. Alanea is teaching children, literal actual Fae children. Fauns, a dryad, several pixies a, what is that, a Kamartaj? No, wait, a Kamaitachi. If I were from Earth, I’d find it weird to see a winged weasel sitting with humanoids in a classroom setting, but I’m from Can’Z’aas, I’m used to spheres hanging out with ferals, humanoids, and humans. Plus, there were several Kamaitachi that acted as messengers. They had a supernatural ability to sort of travel between points where a strong breeze was in effect. I’m not sure if it was teleportation, or just insanely fast travel. They could cover the distance from the coast to the Miracle Oak in seconds or minutes as opposed to hours that most people would take, or even fractions of an hour that my inner circle would take. I wonder if this particular Kamaitachi student has that same traveling power or speed.
Oh well, best not interrupt, though, is Alanea waving to me? I, huh. There was something endearing, and incredibly charming about that wave, or maybe her almost conspiratorial smile from behind it. I rattle my skull about and blink rapidly. I’m probably seeing things with how lightheaded I am after destroying my throat and my runic capacity all day. Gosh she is a heck of a lovely lady. Her compact frame does not detract at all from her charm. Not that it necessarily would on anyone else either. I mean, Hellga Hellridge was an attractive woman, and she was a stocky dwarf. Oh. Poor Hellga. Crap.
I huff a sigh as I quickly continue trotting down the spiral staircase of the Enochian Enclave. The sadness and guilt nearly overwhelm me. I left a woman, an earnest woman who came clean and had relatable reasoning for her actions. I left her in the hands of a mafioso family for them to seek their own brand of justice. I’m, I’m a horrible life form. My limbs sag as I slump against a wall of the tree, weeping. Sadly, I’m on stairs, so any sort of slumping is going to end in disaster. I begin tumbling rapidly down the steep staircase, bouncing into the wall frequently until I finally reach the next landing. Oog. Oof. Hell of a distraction to crunch my neck and rattle my brainpan through an unsafe tumble. And enough of a concussive impact as I reach the next landing to knock me out despite my scaly resilience.
A curious thing happened. Despite being trapped in here with these strange, white, wispy orbs, and perhaps being one myself. Well, despite that, and despite the seemingly constant cycle of the other orbs being consumed, and new ones arriving to replace those ones, only to then be consumed themselves. Well, I’m. I find it hard to maintain a thought. My mind isn’t, wasn’t supposed to be here. I think I had passed on. Right. Despite all that, someone, a man I think, cloaked, brave, yet intelligent enough to know when to flee, showed up a short while ago. Nothing you can do about this, friend. The beast that devours nearly had you too. Another rare sight is the return of the beast’s lapdog.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The beast commands, “Fibbs, catch up to that skulker, and drink this when they’re within sight range, then bite down on this. In that order! You won’t survive to face my punishment for failure in this life, but don’t think that frees you from the torment I would inflict if you got the order wrong. Sight, maintain sight while drinking, then bite down. Quickly now, catch up to the skulker that fled. I’m sure they’re headed to that unholy reeking country to the south. Undead filth, wastes, every last one that consorts with them.”
The lapdog, Fibbs apparently, claims the vial and the object. He takes off like a bat out of hell, as if he’s had a fire lit under his rear. Perhaps both of those are accurate, nearly literal. I believe this is hell. I believe that we are souls, and that our eternity is snatched from any one of us that is fished out by the beast. A lovely late May is occurring somewhere out in the world with spring blossoms. Curse the Imperium. Good luck skulking stranger. You’ll need it now that the beast has his sights set on you. I’m not sure why the beast continues to pass over me to pluck and consume so many other souls. I’m not certain I should be glad for the additional existence time, not when that existence is mostly watching others be tortured and consumed.
As if answering my question, the beast rambles, “Have you at the bottom pickled long enough yet? Hm, no. Disappointing. I suppose leaving you through June is fitting enough, what with its importance as a month. Pickle away my potent snacks, pickle away.”
I almost wish I had a mortal body to be sick from.
I awaken to my eyes rolling about in their sockets. Oh, maybe the cap of illusionary disguise is why Alanea was smiling my way. I’m using it to cloak my draconic form for the nonce. I don’t exactly know how to program it yet though, so, for all I know, I appear to people as a long-lost friend, a secretly admired crush, a family member, their ideal dream romantic partner, or any number of things. I don’t think the cap is that powerful? But it could be. Or Alanea could simply have seen beneath the illusion. If she could do that, she might be able to even see past my draconic form. Oh! Oh I’m almost sure she can. Cherubic Reggie and her are a similar height. My cherubic form closely resembles changeling Fae from around the Miracle Oak.
Gosh, what does that mean though? Ugh, you idiot. She was obviously flirting, stop pretending to be dense. It doesn’t matter what it means anyway. I’ve got too many important things to worry about to be wondering about flirtations. Focus the hell up Reggie. Stop laying here upside down balanced on your neck, and get your arse up. See if Teuila and Dawn are still around, and if they want to head back together, or if they’re going to stick around to train longer.
My eyelids droop as my muscles continue to sag while I struggle to right myself. Panting with exertion, struggling not to have dry air pass down my torn-up esophagus, I nearly take another spill as I proceed down towards the next landing. Huff. Whew. Okay, this landing should be the one where Teuila and Dawn are, I think. Gosh it’s like a gymnasium in there, how the hell is there this much room inside a tree? There are some areas where the trunk bulges with the thick interspersed branches. This must be one of them. Is, is Teuila about to spar a child? Blindfolded? I’m frozen with morbid curiosity. I should really stop this, but I’m fascinated and want to know how it’s going to play out.
As the match is called to action, the pair of combatants move faster than my eyes can observe and focus on. Yet only a moment later, Teuila is pinned to the mat with the child standing on her shoulder blade, bending her arm back at a painful angle as he holds her middle finger at a near-breaking angle. Holy hell. What are they feeding that kid? This is Teuila we’re talking about. That kid has to be an absolute monster. I suppose she was blindfolded, and martial arts aren’t her preferred fighting style, but still.
I huff a sigh. It feels like the Enochian Enclave is great at pointing out areas in which we suck. I can’t sing, I can’t talk, right about now the only thing I can do is walk. Teuila just got schooled by, well, a gradeschooler by the looks of it. Dawn, well, Dawn is off to one side wallflowering in her usual manner. Only this time, she appears to be balanced in a yoga tree pose mixed with a sun salutation. Or at least she’s trying to balance. She keeps leaning against the wall for support, and wobbling. Like I said, pointing out things we all sort of suck at. It’s frustrating to say the least, especially when there’s a deadline on making progress. A literal dead line.
Teuila seems to sense me as she escapes the pin miraculously in an instant. Te hops up and happily shouts, “I forfeit, thanks for the match Sprout! Airhead! Did it go okay? Are you a master yet? Look what I learned how to do!”
As Teuila sprints my direction, I’m left suddenly preparing to meet unconsciousness again as Teuila’s right fist rockets towards my face coated in a ghostly blue flame. I blink rapidly when I realize no force has connected. Gazing down my nose though, Teuila’s fist appears to be buried partially in my face. This should have caved my skull in, instead she’s out of phase, or something.
Te grins and shakes her head at my incredulity. She explains, “So, I don’t really have it right, yet. I don’t even know if it’s supposed to be an illusion, or like a teleporty thingy with like a short term semi tangible duplicate or something? Like, I have no idea what I’m doing. All I know is I feel like I’m where that is. Like I’ve closed the space already, pulled over to it, attracted to it by a magnet even if I stop moving. I dunno, ‘scool I guess. Right?”
I smile at Teuila, then I rub my throat as I adopt a pained expression. Her hopeful gaze softens as I sign the words for blood and pain in Jaz and Dream’s sign language. They got pretty used to those two signs with tons of practice while inventing their species-gap-closing language. Heh. Everyone in the family became quite familiar with those two signs due to my near non-stop projectile bleeding all about the settlement in those last months. Gods I’m a mess of a life form.
Te asks, “Awe, my Air can’t talk? Poo. Kinda wanted you to be hyped up and proud of me and show off all the new stuff you learned. It’s okay Reggie. Let’s go home and rest you up. You coming Dawny?”
Dawn is at Teuila’s side in the blink of an eye. At least the two of them seem to have accomplished some things today. All I’ve managed to do is ruin my freaking throat. I can’t even pant in frustration because the rapid breathing would aggravate the scratching up and down inside my throat.
As we’re walking out, Teuila asks me about my day, but all I can do is weep silently, sign the word for mind slash brain slash learning, and indicate a big fat zero. Teuila looks heartbroken, crestfallen. Dawn didn’t understand the signs, but by my obvious pain, my silence, and the big zero, she grasped enough to know that I’ve failed them both for today at least. It’s almost July sixth. We’ll officially have been in Rayileklia for a month, then in five more days, Jarrah will give us whatever clues Lil left behind as to their next destination. I need to make more progress, but maybe Lil or Luni can think of something, some possible thing that I’ve missed. Maybe it would end up being something that one of us has in our Can’Z’aasian inventories, just, something, anything that might save Dawn.