The horrific spectacle remained unchanged: Irene wailing over the horse, its lifeblood ebbing away, the Onohlies weeping around their mother. Jaxith, standing imperiously above them, surveyed the scene. Blood dripped from his obsidian sword, and his crimson eyes, burning with unbridled rage, held an unsettling vacancy. His expression was inhuman, devoid of empathy, as if the most arduous task was already accomplished. The slaughter of the Onohly had been his primary objective, alongside the protection of Irene, but his terrifying visage, his eyes ablaze with a murderous intensity, suggested a familiarity with death, a grim intimacy beyond the ordinary. This was the countenance of a man desensitized to suffering.
Jaxith slowly raised a hand, brushing back his hair. He was sweating profusely, his breathing still labored, but he maintained his equilibrium, a marked improvement from previous encounters. He approached Irene, who had momentarily ceased her weeping, as if finally acknowledging his presence.
“Tears will not revive him,” Jaxith declared, his voice firm and unwavering. Irene paused, seemingly absorbing his words.
“It is over, young lady, straight up,” Jaxith pronounced, his tone authoritative. He sought to fortify her resolve. Indulging in grief over a recently encountered animal was a sign of weakness, particularly when her own actions had precipitated this tragedy. After all, she had disregarded his warnings, her defiance directly leading to the horse’s demise.
“’Straight up’?” Irene inquired, her voice surprisingly placid as she raised her head to meet Jaxith’s gaze. Tears streamed down her face, yet she observed him with a newfound steadfastness, taking in the unflinching figure before her.
“You show no compassion for him. How can you remain so impassive? And before you say anything I know that it’s my fault, so don’t even think about blaming me,” Irene stated, her voice laced with a quiet determination.
“We cannot linger here. Come,” Jaxith urged, as the mist began to dissipate, revealing the surroundings with increasing clarity.
“If only I knew a spell to heal him,” Irene murmured, gently stroking the horse’s cheek. “He was a brave horse, as you once remarked, the only animal that ever accepted me. And now, he is dying because of me. Why does everything I touch die?” A single tear escaped her eye, and Jaxith sensed that this trauma would leave an indelible mark upon her.
“Cease this self-recrimination and rise to your feet. Move on,” Jaxith commanded, his tone now imperious, pushing Irene to the breaking point. The feeling that she was conversing with an emotionless automaton intensified.
“Shut up,” Irene retorted, refusing to meet his gaze.
“You said it yourself, you possess no healing divine magic. Close his eyes and allow him to rest,” Jaxith instructed, his voice devoid of sympathy.
“I SAID SHUT UP!” Irene screamed, her gaze fixed upon Jaxith with furious intensity. “If you cannot show him the respect he deserves, then shut the fuck up,” she demanded, her voice trembling with anger. Jaxith returned her gaze with an unyielding stare.
“I understand your grief and guilt, but it will not change the past. Step aside. I will end his suffering quickly,” Jaxith declared, advancing towards the horse and raising his sword towards its neck.
“Lower your sword, Jaxith. The last image he beholds will not be the cold steel of your blade,” Irene commanded, her voice filled with righteous indignation. Jaxith regarded her in silence.
“DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!” Irene roared, her eyes blazing with fury. She was clearly in distress, but an unexpected phenomenon occurred. Jaxith observed a faint luminescence emanating from her left blue eye, a fleeting glimmer that vanished as quickly as it appeared.
The aftermath, however, was far from ordinary. Irene clutched her left eye, a searing pain piercing through her. Shrieks of agony escaped her lips.
Jaxith watched her with a mixture of astonishment and unease. He rushed towards her, his earlier resolve momentarily forgotten.
“Do not come any closer,” Irene warned, her gaze a terrifying mixture of fear and rage. But as Jaxith halted, he noticed something else: blood was oozing from her left eye.
Jaxith stared at her in bewilderment, a chilling memory surfacing from the depths of his mind, a memory he had desperately tried to suppress.
“’HELP MEEEEE!’” The chilling echo of his nightmare reverberated through Jaxith’s mind. It was eerily close to the present, but he could not abandon her now, could not allow himself to dwell on that terrifying vision.
“Listen, I know that you’re experiencing a strange feeling now, but I need you to understand that I’m here to help you and you know that, you’re confused along with the loss of the horse, just let me help you through this,” Jaxith stated, his voice calm and reassuring.
Irene turned back to the fallen horse, encircling its belly with a desperate embrace. Then, the screams returned, more agonizing than before. She began to hear the same whispers again, indistinct voices that conveyed a chilling sense of dread, though their meaning remained elusive. A chilling sensation gripped her hands, culminating in the sudden eruption of a brilliant blue light.
As the luminescence gradually subsided, Jaxith approached Irene. To his astonishment, she had fallen into an inexplicable slumber, her body limp against the horse, as if she had been rendered unconscious. Moments before, she had been wracked with pain, and now, an unnatural calm had descended upon her.
“Irene! Wake up, young girl! IRENE!” Jaxith urged, gently slapping her cheeks in an attempt to rouse her. She was breathing, undeniably alive, but her consciousness seemed adrift, distant and uncertain.
Irene’s eyes fluttered open, and she gazed around in confusion, still nestled within Jaxith’s arms. “Jaxith? What… what happened? I… I don’t recall what happened clearly. I feel an overwhelming need to sleep,” she confessed, her voice weary.
“Take deep breaths, Irene. Everything will be alright. We will unravel this mystery together. For now, simply relax,” Jaxith soothed, his gaze lingering on her in worry, the horse calmly raised its head, his eyes fixed upon them.
“Please don’t tell me I’m dreaming, Jax” Irene pleaded, her eyes wide with astonishment as she gazed upon the horse. Jaxith, initially believing her disoriented, dismissed her words. however, as he raised an eyebrow in disbelief, his gaze returning to the horse, a profound sense of astonishment washed over him. The horse, miraculously, appeared completely recovered. Its life-threatening injuries had vanished without a trace.
“He’s alive! He’s completely healed!” Irene exclaimed, her voice filled with ecstatic disbelief. Overwhelmed with joy, she leaped to her feet and embraced the horse’s neck. “I thought I had lost you,” she whispered, tears of relief streaming down her face.
“Look at his wounds, Jaxith! The gaping wound on his belly, the shattered leg… they’re gone! How is this possible?” Irene’s voice trembled with excitement, her demeanor transformed by the unexpected turn of events. Jaxith remained speechless, his sword laying on the ground by his side as he stared in bewilderment at the horse, which had now risen to its feet, moving with a newfound grace and playfully nuzzling Irene’s face.
“I think he loves me more than you,” Irene chuckled, her gaze filled with wonder. “Just look at him! Could he possess some sort of magical ability?”
“No, this is not mere playfulness,” Jaxith replied, his voice regaining its composure as he rose to his feet. “He is expressing his gratitude.”
“What do you mean?” Irene inquired, her voice edged with confusion. Jaxith, his gaze unwavering on her face, observed the crimson smear tracing a path down her left cheek. His mind, a whirlwind of deduction, began to unravel the mystery.
“He possesses no innate magical prowess,” Jaxith declared, his tone measured. “He did not heal himself. You did.”
Irene, bewildered by his assertion, stared back at him with a furrowed brow. The gentle caress of the horse’s mane against her hair did little to soothe her growing unease.
“Healing magic is a difficult art,” she retorted, her voice laced with disbelief. “And I’m just a girl that can only use fog shelter to escape from guards, so definitely I’m not the one who cured him.”
Jaxith, his attention shifting from Irene and the horse to the dying Onohly and the two young Onohlies around it, acknowledged the pitiful wails of the orphaned young. Yet, his focus remained unwavering. He approached the butchered form of the adult Onohly he had slain, his sword tracing the contours of the creature’s back. He was not merely examining the carcass; he was conducting a meticulous inventory of the severed appendages.
“This creature possesses six limbs, a typical trait for the Onohly species,” Jaxith observed, his voice a low, analytical hum. “Some possess four, others eight, but six is the most common. I severed five, leaving one intact. Yet, no such appendage exists. All have been severed.”
He meticulously inspected each limb, his gaze lingering on one in particular. The severed end exhibited an unusual discoloration, the skin seemingly melted by intense heat. The tip, a stark, ruddy hue, contrasted sharply with the other severed limbs, which bore the telltale crimson stains of a sharp, clean cut by his sword.
“However,” Jaxith continued, his voice a silken thread of intrigue, “the manner of severance appears to vary significantly, not all of them were cut in the same manner.”
“Now you’re back to your riddles,” Irene retorted, her tone laced with sarcasm.
“You mentioned witnessing an appendage attempting to strike you, a fleeting glimpse before you averted your gaze. And then, nothing,” Jaxith pressed, his gaze unwavering on hers.
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“Yeeeah, so what does this have to do with the missing appendage you’re talking about?” Irene inquired, her brow furrowed in confusion. “What does all of this talk have to do with the part that I’m the one that healed the horse?”
“You described a sensation of intense heat following that incident,” Jaxith explained, his voice measured. “And this particular limb exhibits clear signs of thermal damage.”
Irene, her eyes narrowing, struggled to grasp the significance of his words. But then, like a bolt of lightning, comprehension dawned. Her eyes widened in a mixture of shock and disbelief.
“Are you suggesting… that I caused this?” she gasped, her voice trembling.
“You should be quicker-witted than that, Irene,” Jaxith countered, his voice firm. “Combining that with what happened to the horse, you definitely are the one that healed him.”
He moved away from the lifeless Onohly, closing the distance between them. “It got nothing to do with being quick-witted, Jaxith,” Irene replied, gesturing towards the horse. “How on Plistura should I be capable of that?”
Irene, her composure crumbling, felt a surge of anxiety. “This is absurd, Jaxith,” she insisted, her voice edged with panic. “I don’t even know what happened, you must be mistaken, maybe it’s an old wound and you thought that it was me who did that to the beast.”
“The injury is fresh,” Jaxith observed, his analytical mind swiftly piecing together the puzzle. “That likely explains the creature’s fear from getting closer in your presence.”
“Stop this nonsense, Jaxith.” Irene interjected, averting her gaze. It was clear she wished to avoid the subject entirely.
“Stop evading the truth, stop fleeing from whatever it is that terrifies you,” Jaxith declared, his voice firm.
“I’m not afraid of anything, stop making a great deal out of nothing.” Declared Irene, her gaze lingering on the horse as she pointedly disregarded Jaxith.
“Then we’ll achieve no headway, if you persist in isolating yourself like this, we’ll remain utterly ignorant of your true nature,” retorted Jaxith, his tone accusatory.
“Enough, Jaxith,” Irene commanded, her voice sharp, refusing to meet his eyes.
“No, you’ve been evading this confrontation for far too long, but now an event of great importance has happened, an event that may unlock the secret behind whatever you’ve been afraid of lately and YOU’RE STILL AVOIDING IT!” Jaxith thundered, his voice rising to a crescendo, his demeanor growing increasingly grave.
“I SAID ENOUGH!” Irene shrieked, finally turning to face him, her eyes blazing. A tense silence ensued as their gazes locked.
“It’s the same thing in your dreams, you saw it in the fake dream of the Onohly, admit that I’m not mistaken,” Jaxith calmly asserted. Irene continued to stare impassively, but the tremor of fear in her eyes betrayed her, a fear that Jaxith, with his uncanny perceptiveness, fully comprehended. He yearned for her to confide in him, desperate to understand the nature of her torment.
“Whom am I deceiving?” Irene murmured, collapsing to the ground in a wave of despair. The horse followed suit, settling down behind her.
“You’re correct,” Irene conceded, her voice hollow, her gaze fixed on the ground while resting her head over her knees. “I’m just a coward.”
“I didn’t mean that you’re a coward, I just said that you’re avoiding this conversation.” Jaxith clarified, his voice soothing.
“It’s the same thing, Jaxith,” Irene retorted, stubbornly maintaining her position without deigning to look at him. The horse, with an air of profound sympathy, began nuzzling her face.
“It doesn’t mean the same, silly, I meant that you need a push, and that’s what I’ve already done, even if my words hurt you, as long as it will help you then I won’t hesitate, but coward? Definitely no, I told you more than once that you’re the bravest girl I’ve ever known, even now you risked your life again and sprinted through the unknown just to give me my sword, even if that nearly costed us the life of the horse, the act of inconception won’t erase the act of bravery.” Jaxith knelt before her, his gaze unwavering. Irene paused for a fleeting moment before lifting her head to meet his eyes. Unexpectedly, she remained composed, the tears that had threatened to well up seemingly subdued. It appeared that the series of perilous encounters they had endured had begun to fortify her spirit.
“I don’t know how you always manage to find the right words, but you always do. I apologize again for my outburst,” Irene acknowledged calmly, shifting her gaze to her left and gently stroking the horse’s mane.
“You’re not alone now. Even he seems despondent over your distress. I’m certain his affection for you has deepened after you saved his life. Horses are remarkably intelligent creatures, Irene, far more perceptive than you might imagine.” Jaxith observed as Irene smiled, delicately playing with the horse’s ears.
“It started right after my last birthday, just a short time after I started feeling strange and then those weird dreams started appearing frequently, this strange thing that I don’t know what it’s, but it sends shivers across me by just remembering, his voice is terrifying Jaxith, like he’s very angry, I don’t understand what he always say, but in the last dream because of the Onohly he interfered in the form of a cloud that quickly took his humanoid form, but much larger than normal human, he interrupted my dream.” Irene recounted, her voice trembling with residual fear.
“Calm yourself, there’s no need for fear. We’re by your side,” Jaxith reassured her. “You were dreaming of your friends, weren’t you?”
“Yes, I really miss them, even if it felt fake, but seeing them well was enough, and he suddenly stopped everything and woke me up, this time I understand what he said, he Said “wake up” several times in an angry voice, I felt his cold hand above my forehead, I was frozen in my place, I couldn’t move or hear anything except him, I started gradually remembering everything, about you, the assassin and how they actually died, he made me feel all of that pain again.” Irene’s voice cracked, but she valiantly suppressed the tears. Jaxith, recognizing her unwavering resolve, decided against exacerbating her distress. It was evident that she was finally confronting her fears head-on.
“Physical pain, fortunately, is finite. It ceases eventually. However, the anguish we endure for those we’ve lost is a relentless torment, a perpetual cycle of sorrow that persists until we arrive at a singular resolution, a definitive answer that will finally extinguish this enduring pain.” Jaxith explained calmly.
“And what is that resolution?” Irene inquired, her voice laced with a glimmer of hope.
“Full conviction with what happened, make these miserable moments your own power, harness it,. I’ve passed with much worse Irene, so believe me when I say that this is the best way to move on.” Jaxith stated calmly, his scarlet eyes concealing a profound depth of sorrow. Irene sensed this undercurrent of anguish but chose to defer the matter for the time being, offering Jaxith a resolute nod.
“Now back to that thing, he obviously was helping you, I don’t know why but there’s something you should know about the Onohlies. They feed on the divine energy in the human souls, they put you in dreams through their mist which actually is a toxic gas produced by the divine energy in their bodies. You can say that it’s a toxic divine energy, then you sleep and while you’re sleeping the divine energy in your soul will gradually detach from your soul whichh means that your soul will become depleted and of course you die.” Jaxith explained.
“I don’t fully understand how this happens, like how the divine energy is separated and how even a soul contains divine energy, should that only be the magic users, the divine casters? Cause they are the only persons able to use divine energy.” Irene inquired.
“Any soul is composed of divine energy Irene, the ability to harness it and use it for magic is an entire different thing that I don’t fully understand since I’m not a divine energy user, about how the divine energy is separated is connected to the toxic gas, its divine effect works on separating the divine energy and then it’s absorbed through the continuous nest of gas until it reaches the Onohly producing this exact gas.” Jaxith elucidated.
“That is indeed a horrifying fate, to die within the confines of one’s own dreams,” Irene remarked, a sense of profound unease gradually receding.
“I presume you have some firsthand experience in dealing with these entities,” Irene observed.
“In actuality, this was my initial encounter with an Onohly. They are exceedingly rare creatures, distinguished by their unique dietary needs, requiring sustenance from both divine and organic energy sources,” Jaxith explained.
“Then how do you have such extensive knowledge about them?” Irene inquired, her voice laced with astonishment.
“It is, after all, my professional obligation. I am required to possess a comprehensive understanding of every beast that inhabits this continent, regardless of whether I ever encounter them in person,” Jaxith replied.
“But that is not the crux of the matter. You see, after assimilating this information, you must recognize that awakening from such a dream constitutes a remarkable escape from certain demise. This compels me to believe that the entity within your dream was, in fact, attempting to save you,” Jaxith asserted.
“I suppose you have a valid point,” Irene conceded.
“Listen, I have a potential explanation. Perhaps your demonic side is undergoing a process of activation, accounting for the peculiar sensations you’ve experienced moments ago. Your heightened senses, particularly your visual and auditory acuity, may be indicative of a defensive mechanism, a form of innate immunity, if you will. Upon awakening, you mentioned that despite the excruciating torment, your ears and left eye remained entirely unaffected by the gas, not even a single hallucination. Furthermore, the presence of the mark on the distinctive appendage of the onohly suggests that your demonic side was, at the very least, temporarily activated.” Jaxith postulated, his gaze fixed upon her left eye, vividly recalling the scene of her anguished screams, and also his own nightmare. His hypothesis might be entirely accurate or completely erroneous, but he fervently hoped that no further harm would befall her. Gently, he used his glove to wipe away the blood that had mingled with her tears, tracing a path down her left cheek.
“Do you mean that gradually I’ll become a demon that everyone will fear?” Irene inquired, her voice laced with apprehension.
“No, of course not, you’re not the first or the last demon hybrid, it’s just an assumption after all until I ask someone that could help you.” Jaxith reassured her calmly, a sense of relief washing over him as he finally succeeded in cleansing her tear-stained face.
“But how? You said that Onohly was afraid to get near to me while it wasn’t afraid of you, if your assumption is right then that means that I’m a monster getting ready to be unleashed, maybe that’s the reason why those strange people want me.” Irene declared, her anxiety escalating.
“Stop all of this now, get up, we still have a long road, until we completely understand what happened you better drop these weird ideas from your mind, you just healed the horse, how do you think that you’re a monster?” Jaxith commanded, rising to his feet. Irene, responding to his firm tone, offered him a warm smile before rising to her feet as well, followed closely by the horse.
“What about them?” Irene inquired, gesturing towards the two orphaned Onohlies that were currently circling their deceased mother, their mournful cries echoing through the air.
“Their journey has come to an end,” Jaxith declared, his voice resolute as he raised his sword.
“Wait, wait! They are still young, defenseless creatures. Why not spare them?” Irene pleaded, her voice tinged with sympathy.
“After all what have I told you about them?” Jaxith responded.
“I understand, Jax, but they are just babies,” Irene insisted, her voice filled with compassion.
“They will not remain babies for long, young girl,” Jaxith cautioned, recognizing the profound impact their demise would have on her sensitive nature.
“Listen, Irene, I know I said that I don’t want you to kill to maintain your innocence, but I meant humans, and maybe wild animals, but they’re beasts, it’s a matter of survival-kill or be killed, killing those things won’t make you any less human, that’s totally different from killing a rabbit, okay? They have a good memory and can remember what was done here, aside from the Onohlies, don't hesitate in eliminating threats like that, understood?” Jaxith declared, his tone grave. He contemplated compelling her to execute the creatures herself, a grim rite of passage that mirrored his own tumultuous childhood, but ultimately decided against it. He refused to subject her to the same harsh realities that had shaped his own existence.
“Jaxith, please,” Irene pleaded, her voice trembling with apprehension. Jaxith sighed, his gaze falling upon the orphaned Onohlies.
“Take the horse and go away, you don’t need to witness it, but I can’t let them live, they may even harm other travelers, they won’t stay babies as I said.” Jaxith declared, his voice firm. Irene, her eyes brimming with sorrow, turned away, leading the horse further into the distance.
“Let’s go now, we don’t need to see any of this.” Irene murmured to the horse, her voice subdued.
Jaxith, his gaze fixed upon the helpless Onohlies, raised his sword once more. Without a moment’s hesitation, he unleashed a swift and merciless blow.
SLASH!