The room was quiet. The partially destroyed ceiling and the outer wall opened up to a view of Terras’s sky. Starlight and moonbeams lit the interior of the room bathing dilapidated furniture in their glow. The sky entranced Alindal for a time bringing forth memories of better times. After allowing himself a few moments, he shook himself out of the reverie and sat down at the table in front of him.
He placed the Weaver’s Needle beside the several pieces of cloth strewn across the table. The fabrics were worn with age and neglect, having been provided the guards from somewhere within the castle. He supposed undead had little use for such things. From his robe, he pulled a leather case slightly bigger than his palm. It had been a gift from Jack some years ago. He gazed up at the stars once more as his fingers brushed across the beautiful yet faded leatherwork.
My goddess… What do you wish of me? His heart ached in the absence of the Seamstress’s starsong. On his homeworld of Valenthas, the stars in the sky radiated more than light. Those chosen by the Seamstress could hear her beautiful song and use its power to weave magic as she did in the heavens. Do my words even reach you? Are these your stars into which I peer?
His hands trembled as he started his task. He opened the case withdrawing a pair of needles, one twice as long as the other, and a small ball of assorted thread. Once he placed his tools to the side, he picked up two pieces of fabric turning each over in his hands and noting where the threads frayed. The condition and type of the fabric varied somewhat which would increase the difficulty of his task. His lips twitched downward into a slight scowl. The result wouldn’t be pretty but it would suffice.
Without further delay, he started sewing the pieces of cloth together at their edges. The process turned out to be much easier than expected. His hands fell into a familiar, steady rhythm, deft fingers aligning the edges, guiding the needle, and pulling the thread. The blessings of the Logos granted his mind clarity greater than any before and his hands moved like those of the elder athahé. After he completed his first stitch, he began to sing.
Sadness and longing for what he had lost followed the words from his lips lending a mournful note to a song meant to celebrate creation. He reached for his mana as he sang. The mana of Fracture was strange compared to the starsong of his homeworld. Mana was ordered and rigid in its application where the starsong flowed freely and encouraged creativity. Still, he had had five years of practice learning to use it. He worked the mana into the needles, not unlike he pushed mana into his instruments to create sigils from eidust. Unsurprisingly, the resulting resonance between the tools and the mana left much to be desired since he wasn’t using a Skill or using sigils to bridge the gap. Much of the mana was wasted in the process and the concentration required caused his fingers to fumble a few times but he kept it up. The use of mana was largely symbolic so perfection wasn’t necessary.
Time stretched on as his project turned from a collection of assorted cloth to a patchwork shawl. Alindal fell into a light hum when his voice began to strain. He didn’t know exactly how much time passed; the eternal night sky ruined all attempts to keep track.
As he finished, he sat back on his heels and assessed the finished product, a shawl. It was, by all accounts, a mess but he had never been good at this sort of thing. Fortunately, the ritual didn’t require excellence, merely the intent to create. He settled into a meditative state, his hands gripping the fabric as though his life depended on it. Then, he stopped his song and listened.
On Valenthas, the ritual was used by the athahé, priestesses of the Seamstress, to commune with the goddess. He had seen the ritual performed dozens of times by his clan’s athahé so he knew what to look for if the ritual succeeded. Never did he think himself blessed enough for it to work yet recent events gave him hope. He strained his ears for the telltale whisper on the wind— the word of his goddess. He heard nothing. The quiet taunted him, unwavering in its sovereignty and mocking in its totality.
Alindal’s shoulders sagged in defeat. The ritual had failed. Either he wasn’t good enough to pull it off or Fracture was beyond the Seamstress’s power. His thoughts settled on the first scenario as he willed his Trait menu to open so he could view the trait that had thrown his mind into turmoil. For a few moments, he stared hard at the floating text a few inches from his face.
Star Elf (Augmented Humanoid)
Advantages
-The Star Elf receives a +5 bonus to his Dexterity and Focus Attributes.
-The Star Elf’s Focus is increased by 10% when he attempts to create something
-The Star Elf’s Skills are amplified by 10% for each of the following aspects they contain: creation, fire, light.
-The Star Elf gains Star Fire as an element option when using Skills with an elemental variable.
Until recently, the racial Trait had only listed three advantages. The fourth had come after his Link with Jack’s Blue Heart. Once he realized what star fire was, he had been torn on the new element so much so that he didn’t share the information with Jack. His friend had disclosed his ability to view Alindal’s Status though Alindal doubted he had done so. He hid the new advantage out of fear for what it meant.
Starfire. The thought brought with it a short notification detailing the new element. He scowled at the words which he had read again and again since discovering the new element.
Star Fire (Advanced Element)
A dangerous element that channels the power of stars. It possesses the Air, Creation, Fire, and Light aspects. Extreme caution is advised.
I did not want this… For the umpteenth time, his mind ran rampant after reading the description. Such power belonged solely in the domain of the Seamstress; not even the greatest of her champions from the legends had the ability to utilize anything like star fire.
Without a doubt, the element surpassed Lightning, his other advanced element, which only had aspects of air and fire. Star fire likely could cause incredible damage to his enemies especially with the cumulative bonus of his racial trait and that was exactly what he was afraid of. With his designation, it could only be a tool of death and destruction, anathema to teachings of the Seamstress.
He had hoped that the star fire was more than an addition to his capabilities, added by the Logos, yet he sat alone, his prayers unanswered, in a devastated world, ripe with death and silence. He needed answers to assuage the guilt simmering within his heart, guilt for what he had done, guilt for what he had failed to do, guilt for being what he was.
“Rek’arn, he who destroys. Do not despair, my brother, you will be different from those before you. We are with you.” His sister’s words echoed, whispered long ago under the Seamstress’s great tapestry. The memory rushed from his subconscious. He could smell the sharp, sweet scent of inks drifting off her clothes as she hugged him tight, her embrace reassuring.
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His family, the entire settlement, had watched over him in those days keeping him under close supervision. They had treated him with love even though he had only been able manifest destructive magic from the starsong. Their hope for his future had kept his spirit pure, at least, until he made a mistake, a mistake that cost him everything and sent him to Fracture.
He sighed and got to his feet stretching in the process. He took a moment to center himself as the athahé taught him long ago letting the negatively bleed out of his mind and body. Self-pity wasn’t a good habit to adopt. He had worked for years to avail Jack of that very same tendency. It wouldn’t do to pick it up himself. He knelt down to collect his belongings putting everything back in its place until he was left with his creation. He lifted the shawl.
Its edges were uneven and its texture and color were mismatched. Due to the material used in its composition, some parts were thicker than others as well. Altogether, the garment was barely functional and ugly to look at. Still, he had created it so he rolled it up and tucked it under his arm.
Before leaving to make his way back to the room he shared with Cordan and Raina, he cast one last look out into the night. From his current position in the castle, he couldn’t see the great wall of light separating the Twilight King’s domain from that of the Eternal Light; however, its luminous visage was seared into his mind. As soon as the Eternal Light entered his thoughts, the wall disappeared, its radiance illuminating a darker memory.
Jack was on the ground at the mercy of the Justiciar. In that breath, Alindal hesitated, his resolve wavered, and instead of using star fire against that powerful threat, he used lightning, even knowing it wouldn’t be enough. The Justiciar’s blade struck once, his breath left him, and his consciousness faded. Silence and fear had been his only companions in those last few moments. He had failed his only friend, the closest thing to family he had in Fracture. His stomach twisted into knot imagining the kind of suffering his friend would be enduring within the Eternal Light’s Bastion.
I’m coming, my friend. Once you’re free, we’ll bring life back to this world. It was a chance for a better future, not just because of the chance to gain strength. If he could aid Jack and the Twilight King in restoring Terras, he hoped the Seamstress could forgive him for the lives he had taken and the mistakes he had made.
He reached for his connection with the Blue Heart. The signal was vague but enough for him to know that Jack was out there somewhere. He tried for the third time since waking to garner more from the connection. The potential for something more was there but his effort always fell through. He expected no less this time.
As it turned out, he was wrong.
The connection suddenly solidified seemingly responding to his probe. Clarity came from the Link like fog being blasted away by a strong wind. He knew Jack was approaching though, for the life of him, he couldn’t tell from what direction or how. A presence, both foreign and familiar, made contact with his mind. A pleasant feeling came from the connection. It was like a warm greeting.
“Is that you Jack?” He thought, sending his thoughts into the connection similar to what he did for Cordan’s mindlink. The presence didn’t answer; however, he didn’t have much time to consider its unresponsiveness.
A crack opened directly behind him distorting space. He stumbled backward into the table, heart racing. A rush of wind blew from the crack disturbing the layers of dust around it and sending Alindal into a coughing fit. One hand scrambled for the Weaver’s Needle as instincts from his time in Fracture kicked in while his other hand began the motions of a spell. When the dust cleared and the crack disappeared, he was already partway through the somatic components of a Line Blast using the wind element to give the spell a knockback effect.
“Woah, I come in peace, friend,” said a familiar voice with amusement clear in its tone. Alindal’s grip on the Weaver’s Needle tightened and his eyes widened. Jack stood a few feet away with a lopsided smile and one hand held up in mock submission.
His shock came not only from the sudden arrival of his friend who was supposed to be in the captivity of an S-rank threat but also from the change in appearance from the last time he had seen the man. Jack’s skin had lost its metallic luster instead it looked more like silvery-blue flesh. His friend stepped forward and Alindal swore that he saw the familiar metallic gleam play across the flesh but then, it was gone. On top of that, he was covered in what seemed to be tattooed sigils lending him an almost tribal look. Jack’s skin wasn’t the only thing to change though. His golden irises were radiant almost as though lit from within and the sclera of his right eye was vibrant blue instead of white.
The other hand that hadn’t been held up gripped the handle of a black rod or at least, it looked like a rod. The implement was nearly featureless for much of its length until the top portion of the weapon where the dark material flattened into a four-sided head. The head made up about a fourth of the weapon’s length and each side curved into the other resulting in smooth edges. Along the face of each side, Alindal caught the glimmer of something red in the starlight but Jack spoke again bringing his attention away from the strange object.
“What, no hug this time?” Jack said spreading his arms wide and looking like he was enjoying Alindal’s distress a bit too much. He noticed it then. A central part of Jack was absent. Or was it? The connection from the Link still stood out in his mind, firm and secure. Jack noticed him staring at his bare chest and chuckled. “Oh right, no worries. The Blue Heart is fine. It’s just inside me now.”
“It’s inside you?” Alindal asked.
“Yep,” Jack answered, shrugging.
He thought on it for a moment then nodded slowly. “I see, I suppose that strangeness is common when you’re involved.”
His best friend snorted at his plain acceptance of the explanation then nodded. “Damn straight. Wouldn’t recognize normal if it slapped me in the face.” His smile widened and Alindal blinked, struck by how surreal the expression looked on the man’s face. Something had changed. When their gazes met, he saw the glint in Jack’s eyes, the sign of a feeling that he hadn’t seen in those golden eyes for years— hope. He stared for an awkward amount of time.
Jack tilted his head to the side and his smile waned just a bit, concern showing on his face. “You know, I was expecting more surprised, more emotions, and more questions. Everything alright?”
Alindal realized that he had been rather sedate. His distress at the failed ritual and shock at his friend's sudden arrival hadn't mixed well. He pushed those feelings aside, not wanting them to spoil what was nothing short of a miracle, and smiled stepping forward to embrace Jack who returned the gesture with gusto.
“It is good to— ah! Too tight,” Alindal choked out as he was practically lifted off his feet. Wait, did he get taller?
“It’s good to see you too, Al,” Jack said, releasing him from the bear hug. “I’ve been through some shit, let me tell you.”
“Well, you certainly look like it,” he laughed. The man really did look like he’d been through a whole assortment of unpleasantness. He was shirtless, his abdomen and legs had what looked like mild burn marks on them, and his pants were torn, stained, and barely covering anything. Alindal sniffed and made a face. “You smell like it too, actually. Did… were you in a swamp?”
Jack laughed too bringing up a hand to scratch the back of his head. “It’s a long story. I’ll fill you in later, don’t worry. But first, I’ve got to speak to the Twilight King asap.”
“Ah, right! He should know that you’re back.” The two of them began walking toward the door but Alindal paused, a thought occurring to him. “Wait, where is Kafkë? I thought it was with you.”
“I’m not sure. We got separated when everything went south but with any luck, Kafkë retreated to the Well of Souls.”
“Ah, perhaps the Twilight King will have more insight into that.”
“Hopefully,” Jack said, finally looking around the room which they were about to leave. He also took note of the shawl. “By the way, what's that? And why were you alone in a dusty room with half a ceiling?” He glanced at the sky through the missing portion of the wall and ceiling. He seemed to come to his own conclusion and started walking away. “Ah, probably just star elf stuff.”
Alindal’s eye twitched at his friend’s tone. He hurried to catch up as Jack pushed open the door. “It’s not just stuff. I was praying to the Seamstress using a sacred ritual that took hours of careful work. It was a very—”
“Sounds like a lot of trouble,” Jack said. “Did she at least have the courtesy to answer?”
“N—,” He started to say but the word caught in his throat when for the briefest moment, he saw lines of silver elven script tracing along Jack’s skin in the stray rays of starlight, just as he had when first establishing the Link. As quickly as it appeared, the script disappeared. Jack didn’t seem to notice. A strange but not unwelcome feeling came over Alindal and he couldn't help but chuckle.
“What? Did she tell you a joke?” Jack asked, raising an eyebrow at his sudden change in mood.
“No,” he answered, throwing his arm around Jack’s shoulder. “She answered me. Just not in the way I expected.”