Brandon knelt in the hallway as aurors passed. They were each encrusted with gems but thankfully, none of those were diamonds. Diamond, or “sight” aurors would be able to pierce directly through his bonded item. Crouching below eye-level would help him avoid detection by the rest. The result could be anywhere from terrible to catastrophic if Federick Rigel, High Priest of Nerrus, were to learn of his relative proximity. That guy was devoted to his grandchildren and Brandon had murdered more than a few for Tellushra. Being forced to take on two congregations of Crystalurgists was a death sentence for anyone, including Unmade.
The group stopped to check the study, exclaiming at the headless body of Hans Dimetrium. Brandon used their chatter as cover. With the man’s head safely in his inventory, Brandon was officially on PTO. Either Timbrelle was his kid and he’d be summoned at her reappearance, or she would get the next mentor in line and Brandon would take a much needed holiday with Dwendot. In any case, it was cause for celebration and Adna seemed capable of drinking her weight in alcohol. If he truly was Timbrelle’s mentor, it wouldn’t hurt to know the girl’s friends. If he wasn’t, it was best to get plastered with company.
Brandon knocked on the wooden door of a supply closet. “I followed your scent here… I hope that’s not weird. Actually, I know it’s weird but I’m hoping you’ll ignore that. Do you want to go raid the wine cellar with me before the aurors destroy it? From what little I know about you, it feels like your scene.” He waited a long time for her answer, smile wavering. “Adna?”
At a faint cough Brandon yanked the door open to find Adna sitting propped up in a corner. Her skin was ruddy and blueing at an alarming rate. Glassy, bloodshot eyes met his and he understood the fear behind them at a glance. Experiencing that fear himself was a memory so vivid that it had haunted him every single night of his eighty years on Kitos.
“Take my hand.” He said tenderly, closing the door and sitting beside her. “It feels better to be held when you die.”
The woman’s head drifted onto his shoulder while Brandon patted the back of her hand. It wasn’t long before that hand went limp.
Brandon, now alone, sat in the supply closet until a notification appeared before him.
Ping!
Congratulations, you are being summoned as a Mentor!
-Will you accept the calling? Yes/No
***
Timbrelle opened her eyes to a bethorned canopy hiding clear blue skies. Directly above her dangled hookthorn berries. She watched them swing in the breeze until her mind regained the processing power to make sense of the sight.
“The Dorark?” She asked aloud. “Why am I—“
Brandon’s face popped into her view.
“Good morning!” He exclaimed. “I gathered as much fruit as I could find. You probably know better than me just how much of this is edible, though. So I’ll follow your lead. Eat first and then I need to tell you some bad news.”
“What the… Brandon? I expected to see Adna first thing after waking up. Where is she? I need to see her; We have so much to talk about.” Her search paid off with the woman asleep on a blanket at the edge of the wretched little pond where they had first met.
“That’s the bad news, Timbrelle. Are you sure you don’t want to eat first?” Brandon rubbed the back of his neck, dragging his feet about something or other.
“Adna!” She yelled past him. “Wake up and welcome me back. I’m sorry I died in your arms—probably won’t happen again. I think I only get one freebie.”
“Timbrelle…” he began.
“Don’t.” She snapped at him, a hand raised. Though her face was cheerful, her voice was hollow and her gaze remained averted. “…don’t say it. Just… don’t.”
Timbrelle shouldered past Brandon. Knees buckling, she fell to the ground beside Adna’s body.
“I have a sick new eye. It used to be on loan from Nerrus, but another, more important God said I could keep it and that Nerrus could kiss my ass. I may be paraphrasing. I ate a guy named Plimt—delicious. Not exaggerating when I say soul is probably my new favorite food.” She unfolded Adna’s arms and set them gently to her sides. Half her vision blurred as tears from her remaining eye flowed freely onto Adna’s arm.
“As sleepy as always, I see! I met the Soul Smith and found some answers for you. Broke my contract with Nerrus, made friends with Diadna and brought you a cookie made by a lady named ‘Cake’, too. She told me something a little funny. I don’t think she intended for it to be instructions, but here we are.” Timbrelle’s voice cracked and she knocked her head back, staring at the canopy as she went on. “All I have to do is run spectral energy through your brain. Between that mark on your back and my Fate Ability, maybe we can plug you back in. It shouldn't be too hard.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Timbrelle hovered her hands above Adna’s chest. Where did one start reanimating a body? Her instinct was to perform some sort of spectral CPR, yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that if she went about this the wrong way she could ruin Adna’s body. There was no room for mistakes when flooding her nervous system with spectral power. She couldn’t screw this up.
Brandon knelt across from Timbrelle, guiding her hands to sit atop Adna’s forehead and over her heart.
“What is your requisite to use your Fate Ability?” He asked mildly, as if any added emotion might shatter what semblance of sanity she retained. “There should be a trigger or requirement you have to meet.”
She reviewed the interface notification. “In times of extreme emotion, the spectral energy around you, regardless of form or vessel, becomes responsive to your demands. So... extreme emotions?”
“That one should be easy to work with. Fate Abilities are like charged attacks in video games. Instead of collecting coins or killing enemies to fill that charge bar, you just need to, you know, have a little meltdown. Now take a second to reflect on that bar and try to picture how full it is.”
Timbrelle obeyed and was startled to find a small blue bar appear in her periphery.
“It’s full.” She said. Indeed, even without the visual representation Timbrelle could feel the promise of power pulsing in her soul.
“Accessing that power is like making a hole in a dam. Only, the reservoir can’t be refilled until the water completely empties and the hole is patched. So once you breach that reservoir, be ready to use it. I will do my best to siphon away any surplus power if it comes to that.”
They held each other’s gaze for a long beat.
“Here goes nothing.” She muttered.
Ping!
You have activated your Fate Ability: Hysteria.
Timbrelle ignored the too-cold of Adna’s mottled skin and focused on aiming the energy down through her arms. Orange spectral energy poured from Timbrelle’s hands. Swapping between soul sight at will, she could see a burnt umber begin lightening the abysmal darkness that was Adna. Hope nibbled at the edges of her mind until a harsh truth became glaringly obvious. Timbrelle simply didn’t have enough spectral energy at the ready. The charge bar was rapidly waning and there was no visible sign of life returning. If the power was a reservoir, Adna was a black hole.
“Couldn’t you have held on a little longer?” She yelled at the woman. “I can’t survive this awful world without you! How could you do this while I was gone? I’ll never, never forgive you for this! You—can’t—just—leave—me!”
Timbrelle punctuated each word of the final sentence with a fist to Adna’s chest. Gleaming orange light burst from each collision like an explosion of sparks off a blacksmith's hammer. A strangled chime sounded at the moment of each impact. One she could barely hear over the roaring of her heart beat in her ears.
Pi-
Pin-
Ping!
Would you like to reinstate Soul Communion with Party Member Adna? Yes/No
The window perched happily in the foreground, unfazed by the hurricane of emotions already recharging her fate ability.
A sob squealed past the lump in Timbrelle’s throat. She screamed her mental assent. A window with a slider took its place, asking how much she wished to allot to her friend and disappeared when Timbrelle set it to half of her overall spectral output.
The sun was rising quickly over the small pond. It brought with it fragments of light and shadow that the light breeze sent frolicking across her skin. It was a beautiful day for the Dorark. Buds she’d seen during her captivity had unfurled into large, billowy flowers that filled the forest with perfume. Long boas of petals and stringy nectar swayed overhead. The thorny trees, ever inquisitive, ever watchful, presided over her ritual. An eager ripple of fluttering leaves passed through the forest, unprompted by wind. It ‘s ambient roar came to an instantaneous halt when Adna’s blue eyes flew open. They quietly beheld Timbrelle, absorbing her features.
“Am I dead?” Adna croaked.
“I mean… technically, yes?” Timbrelle answered, lower lip quivering. "But only sorta."
Adna pulled the woman down into an embrace that threatened to collapse her ribs. “I lost you.” She breathed into Timbrelle’s neck. “I actually lost you.”
“I will always come back for you. So don’t just die next time, be patient for once in your life.”
Adna’s laugh rippled through Timbrelle’s body as she held her even closer. The hum of happy bees raiding the flowers had resumed and set their reunion to the contented purr until Brandon’s interruption jerked them back to reality with a snap.
“Stay still. Keep silent.” He hissed. “Shit. Shit.”
The arms around Timbrelle tensed. Squished into Adna’s chest as she was, she couldn’t tell what the two were looking at. Behind her back, she could feel Adna furiously signing to Brandon in the deaf language. His response came by way of an interface chat.
Beep-beep!
Brandon: Can you see this?
Timbrelle: What is that? Oh, shit. Wait. The hell? Does it send whatever I’m thinking about?
Brandon: You’ll get the hang of it.
Adna: Am I supposed to be seeing this?
Brandon: It’s a party feature for Unmade, so no. But it’s a good thing you both can. That thing is back.
Moving ever so slowly, Timbrelle and Adna untangled from each other and sat up to look where Brandon was pointing. There, on the other side of the opaque, grey waters, stood a figure Timbrelle knew all too well. It’s dirty red and white mask oscillated back and forth as if scanning the area, though it bore no holes for its mouth, nose or eyes.
Timbrelle: Oh God, no. I didn’t even feel it nearby. How could it be here? It found me. Am I not allowed a moment’s peace? I need to get Brandon and Adna away from it. It found me. It found me.
Adna: This is what hunts you? Brandon, can you kill it?
He turned incredulous eyes on Adna.
Brandon: Are you out of your mind? Can’t you feel that aura? Short of a God, that THING is the most horrendously powerful being I have ever encountered. “Can you kill it” she says. It would swat me like a fly. But if we stay completely still and make no noise it will leave. It’s been stopping by every few hours.
Timbrelle: It just leaves? On its own?
Brandon: Call me crazy but I think it’s looking for something specific.
Timbrelle: Me?
Brandon: No idea. It didn’t make any move on you while you were sleeping. So either it’s looking for something else, or it can’t sense your presence.
In the distance sounded a crash Timbrelle knew well. The trees had uprooted one of their brethren and sent it crashing to the ground. There was no knowing why they did this to each other, but she wouldn’t question it right now. The creature’s head jerked to face the direction of the noise and it began taking slow, methodical steps back into the forest.