Seeing the shadow etched on the pillar, I rose onto the balls of my feet, stretching to where her hands were supposed to be, and pressed mine against the cold chains. From that very moment, Drackar's voice faded completely from my awareness.
In an instant, I was somewhere else—a void, an endless expanse of darkness. The air felt heavy, almost tangible, as if I were submerged in a thick, dense fog. For a long, disorienting moment, there was nothing—no sound, no form, just the impenetrable blackness pressing in. I turned in place, trying to find any sense of direction, but everywhere I looked, it was the same: endless fog and an all-consuming void.
I was on the verge of panic when I felt something stir—a faint, almost imperceptible connection. For a brief moment, hope flared. I thought it might be the way out. I drifted—no, floated—toward the sensation, but nothing changed. The darkness pressed on, and the connection remained distant, elusive.
Was it just a trick of this strange place?
I tried changing direction, fumbling in the void, until I nearly lost the fragile thread of that connection entirely. A sharp fear gripped me—the idea of being adrift in this endless emptiness with no anchor, no sense of direction, was too much to bear. Clinging to that fragile thread, I turned back toward it, refusing to let go.
At first, there was nothing—no change, no sense of progress. But as I focused, the connection grew stronger, pulling me along. After what felt like an eternity, I saw it—a tiny, fragile light far below me, like the flicker of a match in the vast dark. A glowworm. So faint, so distant, yet unmistakably there.
I felt like a snowflake, drifting gently toward the faint light. The closer I got, the stronger and clearer it became, until I could make out the outline of a small glade. It was like stepping into a dream. Flowers swayed lightly in an unseen breeze, butterflies danced in the air, and a small, serene lake glimmered in the soft light. Within the lake, a goldfish swam lazily, its scales catching the faint glow like scattered gold.
On the shore, an elf sat quietly. She was barely there—a transparent figure, her form visible only as pale, shimmering contours, as though she were nothing more than a delicate reflection cast on the water. Yet, she noticed me. Slowly, she turned her gaze upward, her translucent eyes meeting mine.
“Yisila?” I asked softly, my voice trembling slightly in the stillness.
She tilted her head to one side, her expression unreadable. Without a word, she raised a delicate hand toward me. Hesitant, I reached out, taking her hand in mine. For a moment, I feared it would vanish like mist beneath my touch, but instead, it grew more solid, more real. The faintest warmth began to radiate from her hand, and the fragile connection between us deepened.
Drackar sighed heavily, his gaze resting on the figure bound in the chains. They hadn't agreed on anything definitive. What was he supposed to do now? Leave her there? The uncertainty gnawed at him. What if something went wrong? How long was this supposed to take?
He could feel her mana being drained, the flow no longer a faint trickle but now surging steadily, almost visible to the naked eye. How much could she endure? How long could a mage survive completely drained of mana? Hours? Days, perhaps? The questions circled relentlessly in his mind. And then, there was the matter of disentangling her from the chains. The way they wrapped tighter around her, like a predator slowly constricting its prey, was deeply unsettling. Was this how it was supposed to work?
It hadn’t been like this when he tried to reach the spirit tool. Back then, the chains had remained lifeless, inert, as if mocking his efforts. But now, they moved with purpose, their intent undeniable.
Drackar's eyes fell on the troll mojo bottle nearby. This was going to be a long night. With a resigned sigh, he picked up the bottle and his glass, lowered himself to the floor, and poured another drink.
“To you, Lady Lores,” he murmured, raising his glass toward her before taking a long sip.
When I opened my eyes, I felt the chains slowly loosening their grip on my hands. My muscles were cramped and aching, my limbs numb. As I tried to step back, something tugged at my ankles. Were the chains wrapped around my legs too? I attempted another step, only to stumble worse, tangling further in the bindings.
Desperately trying to keep my balance, I stumbled a few more steps before crumpling backward, collapsing to the ground. My body felt drained, exhausted, and utterly confused. Every muscle protested, refusing to cooperate.
The lump I landed on stirred beneath me.
“Drackar?” I murmured weakly.
Two powerful green hands grabbed hold of me.
“Ahm...” he started, his words slurring slightly.
He was trying to push me somewhere—upright, maybe—but his coordination seemed just as off as mine. I slipped to his side, catching a glimpse of his face out of the corner of my eye.
“Good to see you in one piece,” he said, his words lolling with what I could only assume was troll mojo-induced sluggishness.
I rolled my eyes.
"Did it work?" he asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and lethargy.
"I guess it did," he added, tilting his face to gaze up at the ceiling. How he could see that up there was beyond me.
"This troll mojo has a delayed effect," he continued, shifting his slanted gaze toward me. "I'm feeling at peace, detached from my body, and completely drunk. I can barely coordinate my hands."
I chuckled softly. Strangely, I felt both satisfied and utterly drained, my body heavy and numb.
"I'd rather sleep in my bed," I countered, stealing a sidelong glance at him. "But I'm too lazy and tired to move."
He let out a small laugh. "Me too," he admitted. "You could always tell the spirit tool to bring you to your bed. It's a good test—it should be able to teleport you."
"She can do that? How?" I asked intrigued.
"Think about the connection you have with her," he said. "She acts like an extension of your brain."
I focused on my room and suddenly, as if summoned by my thoughts, a layout of the castle appeared vividly in my mind. It was like a three-dimensional magical domain chart, detailed and precise. Cool!
Interestingly, Ju wasn't in my bed. Was she awake? Or perhaps the chart didn’t display people. Then I noticed some figures moving around—so much for that theory - or maybe unless they were moving?
"I can see my bed!" I announced, excitement creeping into my voice.
"Good! It really worked! Kargath be thanked! Ask her to place you there. Good night!" Drackar said, his words already slurring into sleepiness.
I almost did as he suggested but stopped myself. "I can’t leave you here!" I protested.
He chuckled, "Well, you could teleport someone with you," he said, "but I guess you don’t want me snoring in your bed!"
"Yeah, but I can put you in your bed!" I countered.
This time, he didn’t answer. Instead, I heard the unmistakable sound of a snore. I chuckled softly to myself.
I knew his room was above the barracks. Deciding to try teleporting him there first, I thought about his quarters. If the spirit tool couldn't handle another teleport, I could always shadowmeld back to my room afterward. With a deep breath, I focused on the task, silently hoping this would work without a hitch.
Teleporting with him didn’t seem to work at first. My body alone was highlighted as "ready to teleport"—that is, until I grabbed him. With him in tow, the teleportation worked smoothly enough, and I found myself sprawled on a wide bed in a dark, simple room. Drackar was lying beside me, completely lost in his Troll mojo-induced Nirvana dreams.
I attempted to teleport myself to my room, but it didn’t work. I shrugged, a little resigned. I’d half-expected something like this might happen. Switching tactics, I tried to shadowmeld. Instead of disappearing into the shadows, I only wobbled awkwardly in place.
What was happening?
Then it hit me—part of the reason I felt so utterly drained was that I was utterly drained. My mana reserves were completely empty. It wasn’t just the Troll mojo playing tricks on me—it was the very real fatigue of magical exhaustion. The realization brought on a pang of frustration, coupled with a sharper awareness of my pounding headache.
With a heavy sigh, I glanced around the room. Despite its simplicity, there was a strange, subtle luminosity to the space. My gaze shifted to the window, and I suddenly realized it was no longer night. The sky outside was bright, and the muffled noise of activity drifted in through the walls.
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It was already day.
“Oh, drats!” I mumbled, barely audible as I willed myself into action. With an inhuman effort, I forced myself to sit upright, then pushed myself to stand on unsteady legs that felt like they’d been replaced with jelly. A few wobbly steps propelled me to the window. Resting my forehead against the cool glass, I peered outside.
The yard was bustling. A column of carriages was rolling out, and people were gathered, their voices carrying faintly through the thick panes.
“Oh, fucking fuck!” I exclaimed as the first few carriages started heading toward the gate.
The realization struck me like a slap: The lament singing! They’d decided to leave without me! Panic surged through my tired body, and with sheer force of will, I made my legs move toward the door.
Just as I was ready to open it, I froze, hearing voices and noise on the other side. Orcish laughter, the clatter of dice, and the unmistakable sound of mugs clinking against wood. My stomach dropped—was his room directly connected to some kind of guard station?
I hesitated, gripping the handle tightly. I couldn’t risk being seen coming out of his room, dressed in an evening gown, of all things. Turning back toward the window in desperation, I arrived just in time to see the last carriage exiting the yard.
Great. Just great.
I opened the window and leaned out to survey my options. Below, a cluster of horses milled about, their reins loosely tied. A small slab jutted out from the wall—a precarious ledge that led to the rainpipe. Perfect, I thought, with more optimism than sense. I could use the ledge to reach the pipe and shimmy my way down.
Leaning further, I tried to plot my descent. But the moment I stretched out, I felt my balance betray me. A sharp gasp escaped me as I flailed for the window frame, my fingers brushing uselessly against the sill. Gravity took over, and I tumbled head over heels.
The world spun, and instinct took control. My arms stretched forward, grasping wildly. By sheer dumb luck—or perhaps fate—I landed squarely on the back of one of the horses. The impact knocked the wind out of me, leaving me gasping and dazed.
The horse, on the other hand, made plenty of noise to compensate for my silence. It neighed and reared slightly, its luck being that the room was only on the first floor.
I clung to its neck like a tiger pouncing on its prey, my head spinning and lungs burning. Well, that could’ve gone worse... probably.
The horse beneath me panicked, bucking and twisting in a desperate attempt to throw me off. I clung with all my might, gripping its neck as though my life depended on it. The other horses caught the frenzy, bolting in every direction, their hooves thundering on the ground. My mount, however, seemed intent on performing a full rodeo routine, leaping and twisting wildly.
After a few chaotic seconds, everything became a blur of motion, and then, suddenly, it stopped. Or rather, I stopped. The horse seemed to vanish beneath me—or perhaps I’d been plucked away mid-flight. Strong arms cradled me in a firm but gentle hold, and I looked up to see Lynx carrying me in a princess carry, his expression calm but with a glint of curiosity in his eyes.
“Where have you been? Everyone’s been looking for you!” he said, his voice laced with a mix of relief and subtle amusement.
I wasn’t sure if he genuinely didn’t realize where I’d fallen from or if he was sparing me the embarrassment. Either way, I was grateful he didn’t press.
“Can you take me to Huiesta, please? And… don’t ask questions?” I mumbled, avoiding his gaze.
“So that’s what you were trying to do?” he said with a wry chuckle. “We can catch up to them in a couple of minutes.”
I let out a sigh of relief as he deftly made us both invisible, sparing me from the curious—or judgmental—eyes of the orcs in the yard. They were running in all directions, shouting and trying to calm the panicked horses.
“Can you hold on tight?” Lynx asked, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I can’t run that fast as a human…”
“I’ll try,” I replied, bracing myself as he transformed into his lynx form.
We didn’t catch the carriages, and that was entirely my fault. I had to make several stops along the way for troll mojo- and stomach-related reasons. By the time we finally arrived in Huiesta, I was halfway presentable and barely functional. To my surprise, there was no mass being held. Instead, the square was packed with an unruly crowd of restless people.
In the center of the group, I spotted Alice deep in conversation with a petite woman dressed in priestess robes. Before I could make my way toward them, Ju appeared at my side, her face a mixture of concern and exasperation.
“Where have you been?!” she hissed.
“Not now, Ju,” I replied with a weary sigh, waving her off. “What’s going on here?”
“The priests are missing for the mass,” she explained grimly.
“And who is Alice talking to?” I asked, nodding toward the small figure in priestess garb.
“She’s just an acolyte,” Ju replied. “She can’t lead the mass, but Alice is trying to convince her to step in.”
“Does she even know what to do?” I asked, furrowing my brow.
“After attending for years and training for it, I’d imagine she knows the basics,” Ju said. “That’s what they prepare for, after all.”
“Let me talk to her,” I decided, stepping forward.
“Not dressed like that!” Ju stopped me, pointing at my red evening dress with a firm look.
I sighed. Of course, she was right. This wasn’t exactly the outfit for inspiring confidence in a devout crowd. Thankfully, I had recovered enough mana to manage some semblance of a transformation. Ignoring the pounding headache, I focused, altering the elegant red dress into a modest black garment, its design resembling that of a nun's robe, covering me from neck to ankle.
“Satisfied?” I asked, glancing at her with a faint smirk.
She looked me over, then gave a small approving nod. “Now you can go.”
“You need to disperse the people,” the acolyte was saying firmly to Alice. “We have no mass today. The chief priest has said he will announce another date later.”
“That’s out of the question,” I interjected as I approached, offering a polite but firm greeting.
Alice turned toward me, and I caught the flicker of relief in her eyes as she greeted me in return.
“Baroness, I must explain...” the acolyte began, her tone edging into the condescension reserved for dealing with particularly difficult children.
I ignored her and turned toward Julietta instead. “Ju, could you please establish a privacy field for me and our esteemed priestess?”
“I’m not a priestess. I’m just an acolyte,” she corrected weakly, her voice faltering under the weight of the moment.
I gave her a tired smile as the field shimmered into place around us. "Thank you, Ju."
“What’s your name?” I asked, my tired eyes locking onto hers. Her assertiveness began to crumble, giving way to an almost childlike meekness. It seemed she didn’t like what she saw in my gaze, and her response came out as a nervous stammer.
“B... B... Basela, Lady Lores.”
Now, that was more like it.
“What have you been told to do and say?” I asked, sighing deeply before adding, “And don’t even think about lying to me.”
Her eyes flashed with defiance, and she lifted her trembling chin to meet my gaze. “You cannot try to frighten me!” she snapped, her voice quivering with both fear and indignation.
“I’m not trying to frighten you,” I replied, my tone soft and conciliatory. “I’m just so very tired of all these petty acts of sabotage. Just yesterday, a high-paladin tried to kill me because I was close to uncovering the conspiracy she was part of. Would you like to know what happened to her?”
I didn’t wait for her answer. Somewhere deep within, I instinctively knew I could show her. This strange, unbidden faculty—where had it come from? No matter. I reached out and gently touched her temple, channeling the memory of Dame Elanea’s final moments directly into her mind.
The flicker of anger in her eyes vanished, replaced by shock and a trembling uncertainty.
The next moment, she nearly collapsed, and I had to catch her. Her face turned ghostly pale.
“But, but... I only came here to tell these people the priest couldn’t come. Nobody else wanted to come! They didn’t want me to come! I... I came because I care for the people. I didn’t want to…” Her voice broke as she began to cry, her sobs turning into incoherent whines.
I pulled her into a hug, gently patting her back in an attempt to calm her.
“You only need to hold the mass,” I said softly. “Is that too much to ask?” I pushed her to arm's length to meet her tear-streaked face.
She wiped her eyes and nose with her sleeve, her voice barely audible. “They’ll expel me from the church if I do that. I’ll never become a priest. At least as an acolyte, I still have hope—maybe in ten years…”
“What does a priest earn?” I asked, tilting my head curiously.
“Housing and four silver a quarter (8 days), plus whatever the community decides to give,” she murmured, her eyes timidly meeting mine.
“Acolyte Basela, I hereby appoint you as Huiesta’s Twin Gods priest. You’ll live in the parochial house, and you can choose from the congregation who you wish to serve as your acolyte and assist you in fulfilling your duties,” I declared firmly.
Her eyes widened, her voice trembling as she asked, “Can you even do that?”
“Of course I can,” I replied with unwavering confidence. Truthfully, I wasn’t entirely sure, but who would contest me? That alone made it true.
“But… but they’ll expel me from the church! They’ll throw me out of the house!” she asked, her hands trembling.
“Nobody can throw you out of the parochial house—it belongs to the barony,” I countered. “And you know, there are plenty of independent Twin Gods priests.”
“Not that many,” she muttered hesitantly, her voice weak, “and they’re always under so much pressure…”
“If they excommunicate you—which I highly doubt—they’ll only make you another independent priest. And I guarantee that this parochial house, this church, and this town will stand behind you. Perhaps we’ll even build a bigger church. Now, do we have a deal?”
She hesitated only a moment before nodding in agreement.
I gestured to Ju to release the privacy field, then turned to Alice, ready to proceed.