Intermission #6 Imposter
Hakim's question hung in the air, a gentle note of concern threading through his voice. He was nestled into the embrace of a plush chair in the quiet sanctuary of his family's home, a place steeped in memories and warmth. Across from him, an enigmatic figure cast an aura of unsettling grace. Despite her appearance—a stark contrast to anything familiar, with bone-white armor that wrapped around her like a solemn gown—Hakim sensed a profound yearning for peace within her, a desire more intense than any other person he'd encountered before.
Eilin, the only other soul in the room, was lost to the world, her focus tethered to the flurry of papers before her. Her hand danced across the page, each stroke a desperate attempt to capture the unfolding narrative.
“Vina killed the twins. You likely know them as The Shaper. They took something from her. She was distressed by the loss”, Oyna's voice, devoid of inflection, floated across the room. “She said she was tired. I allowed her to sleep while I carried her. The guards outside the room want to kill me.”
Hakim's gaze lingered on Oyna, noting the stark simplicity in her speech, a contrast to the complexity of their situation. “In my home, you are just as safe as Vina is,” he assured, though guilt gnawed at the edges of his conviction. His promise to Norimor, a vow to protect Vina, felt impossible to keep. While he had wanted to keep Vina safe, she had also proven herself to be someone the world needed right now. With her, they had reclaimed Trina from the clutches of oblivion. Yet, with each passing day, the moral landscape shifted, obscuring the path to peace that he so desired. “You may relax and rest here. How did Vina kill The Shaper exactly?”
A shadow of bewilderment crossed Oyna's features. "The details are lost to me. An assault, an explosion, and then... darkness. When I remembered once more, both Vina and The Shaper had vanished from the tower. I thought I was alone once more in this silent world," she recounted, her voice a mere whisper against the backdrop of their solemn gathering. Her gaze drifted towards Eilin, a flicker of apprehension in her eyes. "She has thoughts of ending my life."
Eilin’s head snapped up from her papers, “I… what?”
Hakim, moving with deliberate calm, reached for Eilin's notes. His eyes scanned the words containing descriptions of Oyna that bordered on the invasive. With a heavy sigh, he folded the paper, offering it to Oyna as a token of respect. "Eilin, let us focus on the content of our discussion. Our guest's appearance is not our concern. Stick to the facts, devoid of personal judgment." Eilin, momentarily taken aback, nodded her assent, her pen poised above a fresh page as Hakim turned his attention back to Oyna, a bridge of understanding silently forming between them.
Before Hakim could speak another word Oyna's voice, tinged with a newfound softness, sliced through the pause. "You have no desire to hurt me. You are the second person whose eyes do not reflect malice upon looking at me."
Hakim offered a gentle shrug, his demeanor a blend of humility and warmth. "Encountering someone as singular as you, Oyna, is a privilege not afforded to many. You did not come here with an evil intent in your heart, so I knew you were a safe person from the beginning.”
A moment passed as Oyna digested his words, her expression a canvas of contemplation. “I will trust you. I do not trust her.”
Hakim watched in fascination as the armor cloaking her form began to unfurl, revealing itself to not be armor, but two majestic wings, as white as the first snowfall of winter. She moved, embodying a grace previously concealed, and settled into a chair. She positioned herself sideways, an elegant solution to accommodate the splendid span of her wings. Leaning back, she allowed her legs to dangle freely.
Eilin, caught in the grip of awe, inhaled sharply—a gasp that fractured the solemnity of the moment. Hakim, however, raised a hand in a silent plea for silence, his eyes never leaving Oyna. The room, bathed in the soft glow of a morning twilight, seemed to hold its breath, bearing witness to a scene that blurred the lines between the mundane and the miraculous.
Oyna's gaze shifted towards Eilin, her voice laced with an unmistakable edge of disdain. “Yes. You’ll be silent and write my words.” Her eyes, however, held a depth of sorrow as she turned back to Lord Hakim. "Vina has been altered by The Shaper. The Vina you remember, Hakim, may now only exist in fragments. I, too, have been sculpted by their relentless hands. Made and remade into this form you see before you. They infused me with powers not my own and stripped away my thoughts. The full measure of what was taken from me and Vina may never be known. Some changes may fade with time, but others are permanent scars upon our very beings." She gestured towards herself, her movement highlighting the unnatural elegance of her form.
"My fears are very dark," Oyna continued, her voice a murmur of dread. "Before his death, Kaliq might have tried to intertwine his essence with Vina's. Should The Shaper still exist within her, I fear he may be reborn. I've secured the aspect they were bonded with, but by Vina’s own words, it is not one of Trina’s. She was loath to touch this aspect. Her reluctance gives me hope. Yet, the possibility of her eventual acceptance of it concerns me. The Shaper's resurrection, particularly within Vina, would be horrendous."
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Hakim, absorbing the gravity of her words, found himself wrestling with the duality of newfound knowledge and the ominous gaps that remained. He was familiar with the lore surrounding the twins, yet the name Kaliq unraveled new threads of understanding. "Your warning is much appreciated," he acknowledged, gesturing towards an enigmatic stone resting on the table. Its surface was a blood-red canvas of myriad facets, but within it contained a swirling creature suspended in the center. “Can you provide me any warnings about this?”
“That is Langternem,” Oyna stated with startling simplicity. “We will need to wake Vina soon. I can only read some of the letters on the runes she wrote. I can tell it is running out of blood, but I do not know what will happen when it does.”
Eilin’s writing stopped and she spoke, “Langternem? The disease?”
Oyna sat up slightly and glared at Eilin as she spoke in rapidly succinct sentences, “The Shaper said they wanted to contain Langternem. Now they are dead. I found Vina with this crystal. She did not have it when we were fighting The Shaper. Perhaps Vina was forced to contain Langternem by herself after killing The Shaper. Perhaps The Shaper succeeded in controlling Vina and contained Langternem themselves. I don’t know which situation happened. Clearly we also don’t fully understand Langternem. What I see inside the stone is not a disease.”
Hakim nodded, “That is some fair reasoning. Our priority remains to discern the extent of The Shaper's influence over Vina. And Oyna, your familiarity with Blood Runes—does it extend to their activation?"
Oyna's slow blink of her four eyes revealed her weariness. "Yes, though my capabilities are far below Vina's"
Hakim rose to his feet, “Thank you, Oyna. We stand ready to support your journey toward healing and autonomy from the control of The Shaper. For now, I have made accommodations available for you. If you find the accommodations are not fit for your unique physiology, please let your attendants know. I hope you understand, but I must ask for your patience and presence here until Vina's condition stabilizes.”
Oyna blinked two of her eyes at a time as if to rouse herself and stood after a moment. As Oyna left with a weariness in her steps, the room was immediately filled with Eilin's urgent voice. "Surely, this can’t be Langternem, can it? Trina eradicated that plague."
Hakim held up a hand, “We don’t know anything anymore. It’s unfortunate, but we need to wake Vina. We must trust Oyna’s judgment at this moment.”
Eilin, on the cusp of further objection, was silenced by Hakim's decisive stride from the room, the ominous stone cradled in his grasp. He navigated the grand corridors of his estate, a bastion of history and power, with a heavy heart.
“Hakim! If Vina really is The Shaper…” she started to say.
His abrupt pivot sent a stern warning. "Eilin, such discussions are not for the ears of my home. We will speak of it in due privacy." Such a rebuke was uncharacteristic for Hakim, but he knew she knew the rules and proper etiquette. Her violation hurt him in a way he wasn’t prepared for. Their final steps to Vina's quarters were taken in a charged silence, broken only by the guards' acknowledgment of their lord's presence.
Inside, Vina lay in a state of vulnerable repose, her peace soon to be disturbed. Hakim's reluctance was palpable as he approached, the weight of his decision pressing down on him. Vina had already endured too much, and yet here he was, forced to ask even more of her.
As Hakim's gentle nudge stirred Vina from her rest, he whispered an apology, the gravity of his intrusion weighted by the urgency of the moment. Her eyes, a familiar shade of red, blinked open slowly, struggling to adjust to the room's dim light.
"Hakim? What happened?" she murmured, her voice laced with confusion and a lingering drowsiness. Yet, before Hakim could frame his concerns into words, Vina's gaze darted across the room — from Hakim, to the enigmatic object in his grasp, and finally resting on Eilin. "What's wrong with her?" Vina's sleepy inquiry carried an undercurrent of alarm. "Her vibrance is distorted. That's not Eilin."
In that instant, Hakim's gaze snapped towards Eilin, catching the subtle shift in her demeanor as she edged closer to the door, her intentions masked until now. His command shattered the tense silence, "Guards! Seize Eilin!"
The room erupted into chaos as four guards charged in, their movements a blend of precision and urgency. They tackled the figure of Eilin to the ground, a tangle of limbs and shouted orders filling the air. Another six guards formed a tight perimeter, their presence a testament to the gravity of the situation, while another dashed for additional reinforcements.
Throughout the commotion, they maintained a careful restraint, mindful of the power Eilin — or whoever this imposter might be — was believed to wield. The Aspect of Retribution was not a force to provoke lightly, and their actions reflected a deep-seated caution, a delicate balance between duty and the fear of unseen consequences.
"Secure her outside. I'll follow shortly," Hakim commanded, his voice a deep rumble of authority tinged with frustration. Turning back to Vina, he noticed her attention was directed far beyond the immediate turmoil, her finger pointing towards a distant location. "Eilin is there, probably in the fourth portal ring building," she murmured, her voice a blend of fatigue and resolve. Extending her arms towards him, she requested, "Langternem, please."
With a mix of reluctance and trust, Hakim placed the crimson stone in her hands. Vina cradled it against her chest like a pillow, a gesture of both protection and acceptance. The entity within the stone, once restless, began to calm, its movements slowing in her embrace. Hakim's concerns ebbed slightly, replaced by an urgency to confront the imposter and find the real Eilin.
Vina cracked an eye open, “Go. It’s not going to drain me.” she assured him with a weary but firm voice. Grateful yet anxious, Hakim exited, sealing the room behind him to face the daunting task of unraveling the deceit within their midst.
The antechamber outside Vina's quarters was now crowded with twenty guards. The woman who bore Eilin's visage stood at the center, her expression one of fear and uncertainty.
Hakim approached, his presence commanding silence. "Please let me do this peacefully. Who are you, and what is your purpose here?" he demanded, hoping for compliance yet prepared for resistance.
The woman's response was a silent stare, a maelstrom of fear evident in her eyes. It was clear to him now that she was not the Eilin he knew,
Hakim shook his head, “I’m sorry, whoever you are.” He turned to the guard, “Take her to my brother. I want answers.” he stated, his voice reflecting the weight of his duty and the turmoil of his thoughts.