Chapter 455: The Omen
A young woman was looking down at a small fox on her lap, casually chatting away as if it were an ordinary day and a dragon wasn’t lying dead underneath them.
The woman abruptly stopped talking and looked up at the goblin child standing at the treeline frozen like a deer. She narrowed her ever-changing iridescent eyes and her red lips slowly curled in a smirk. “Well, hello there.”
Stryg took a trembling step back. “Y-You’re not Lunae…”
“No. No, I’m not,” Caligo chuckled. “And what might you be?”
~~~
Stryg’s eyes snapped open and he sat up with a yell. His body was covered in sweat and his breathing was ragged. Tauri mumbled something sleepily next to him and turned away. Stryg glanced around the dark room.
They were in Plum’s bedroom. The drow in question was asleep on a chair, a blanket wrapped over her. Tauri lay asleep next to him on the bed. Last night’s events were coming back to him. Tauri and he had drunk a ‘special tea’ brew that Plum had offered. After that Tauri had acted strange and Stryg had taken them to bed to sleep it off. Everything should have been just fine and yet…
Stryg stared at his trembling hands. His dream, his nightmare… It was already fading from his mind, but something had happened in that nightmare. No, that memory. It wasn’t a dream. He was sure of it. Deep down, he knew. He had been there. He had seen the dragon of his childhood slain, a mangled corpse on the ground. The dragon had been slaughtered, but by whom…? There was a person… A woman? He wasn’t sure. The memory was slipping through his fingers like water.
He gritted his teeth and held his head in his hands. He had to remember. Something had happened that day. Something terrible. Yet every time he tried to recall the event his mind recoiled like an old untreated wound being poked at.
How had he forgotten something so monumental? A dead dragon lying not twenty paces from him. The first time he had encountered the dragon he lay awake at night thinking about it, but now? Not even a hint of a memory? And why was he remembering now?
Something was different. He could feel it, deep down. Something within him was changing. It had been for some time but where once it was a flicker, a whisper in the wind, now it felt like a storm was brewing deep within him, threatening to tear him apart.
“What’s happening to me…?” he muttered.
“Huaghmmm…?” Tauri mumbled drowsily.
Stryg smiled half-heartedly and brushed her short black hair from her cheek. He quietly got out of bed, walked onto the balcony, and closed the door behind him.
The skies were a dark grey, the first light of dawn hadn’t yet peeked through the horizon. The cool wind blew through his clothes and dried off the sweat on his skin, sending a faint chill up his back that drove away the last traces of drowsiness.
Goblins innately had keen night vision, more so than vampires, though Stryg’s had developed far more sharply in the last few years. He could see every corner and shadow on the streets below. Craftsmen and apprentices were running about, trying to finish the last-minute preparations.
How he wished to have been one of them. To have a clear direction, a purpose in this world of madness and uncertainty.
That’s why we train, Loh’s words echoed in his mind. We train to be prepared for whatever comes at us.
The concept was so simple, but the routine pattern of training gave him some level of comfort. He turned to head back inside and practice his martial forms when he spotted something in the corner of his eye.
A white owl sat perched on the railing staring at him. Its eyes were black orbs, Stryg’s blue visage reflected in its gaze.
“How long have you been standing there?” Stryg asked curiously.
The owl tilted its head to the side.
A knock on the bedroom door grabbed Stryg’s attention. He glanced back at the owl, but it had already flown off silently into the night sky. He watched it disappear into the clouds lamentingly.
A second knock rang at the door.
“Coming,” Stryg called out and walked back inside.
He opened the door and found Aurelia standing impatiently in front of him.
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“Mother? What are you doing here?”
“I went to your room but you weren’t there. I checked the orc’s room too and she wasn’t there.” Aurelia peeked into the room and spotted Tauri sleeping in the bed. “I guessed as much. And the drow girl too?”
“It’s not like that,” he said wryly.
“Mhm,” Aurelia looked at him disapprovingly. Though she seemed uninterested to press the matter. “Are you alright?”
“Huh?” Stryg blinked.
“You look unwell.”
He smiled softly. It hadn’t even been a minute and she had already deduced something was wrong.
“I’m fine, really,” he lied reassuringly.
“Have you been sleeping well? Getting enough to eat? Or drink for that matter?”
“Yeah, something like that. Actually, I was about to start my daily training, but I thought I might get some fresh air first.” He pointed his thumb back at the balcony.
“Training will have to wait. The Mother Elect would like to speak with you.”
“I suppose it was bound to happen,” he sighed.
“I used to do the same, you know. Back when I was an acolyte,” she nodded towards the balcony. “The Keep has a nice view of Evenfall, the forest, and the mountains.”
“Yeah, it does. I even saw an owl on the balcony this morning,” Stryg added off-handedly.
“I’ll wait outside for you to get changed,” Aurelia turned to leave, but she stopped and twisted her lips, “...Out of curiosity, what kind of owl was it?”
“I don’t know, a snow owl, I guess.”
Aurelia stiffened and her entire demeanor changed. “You guess?” she asked uneasily.
“I mean, yeah?”
“Why? What makes you say it was a snow owl? Did it only have white feathers?”
“I’m not sure. The bird was white, that’s pretty much it.”
“Did it have any dark feathers?”
“Huh?”
“Snow owls have dark feathers interposed into their wings. They aren’t purely white. The owl you saw, what color were its feathers? Were they all white?”
He shrugged, “I’m not sure.”
She grabbed his shoulders tightly. “Look at me, Stryg. I need you to recall carefully. What were the colors of its feathers?”
The look of anxiety in her expression was unsettling. He had never seen his mother afraid of anything. “I-I’m not sure. I think they were all white? Maybe, I didn’t get a very good look before it flew away.”
“Okay…” Aurelia licked her lips. “What about its eyes? Were they yellow?”
“No. They were black, pitch black.”
“Are you certain?” she asked quietly.
He nodded. “I remember, they were black.”
Aurelia sighed a deep shaky breath. “I see…” She stepped back and let him go.
“What? What is it?” Stryg asked worriedly.
Aurelia stared at her son, fear in her eyes. “You saw a spirit owl. People rarely come across them. Some see them in visions, others at a distance. Sometimes it’s just a feather. Few ever see a spirit owl so close up.”
“Lucky me?”
“No, you don’t understand. They are omens of death. If you ever come across one it means someone close will die.”
Stryg frowned, “What do you mean close? As in someone I care for?”
“Sometimes. Other times it is quite literal. Perhaps a rival in a duel or perhaps a lover. Perhaps even yourself.”
Stryg shook his head. “It’s just an omen. Lunae told me that omens are what we make of them.”
“We can interpret omens whatever way we wish, but they come just the same.”
“What is that supposed to mean? That we just sit by and let someone die?”
“No, you may be the reason they die in the first place. We are going to war, Stryg. Death is inevitable.”
“Then it will be the death of my enemies,” he said angrily.
Aurelia bit her lip. “Stryg, back at our village, at the Moon Hall, underneath the wooden planks of my room, is buried a chest. Inside is an enchanted book. My grandmother, Stryga, was its original owner. The book contains certain memories, her memories of what happened to her, and how she came to us. My mother, Nalindra, infused her own memories into its pages after my grandmother passed… And when my mother passed I began to do the same.”
“Why are you telling me all of this?” Stryg asked suspiciously.
Aurelia looked at her son steadily, “If something happens to me, I need you to find that book. It is our family’s legacy. You wanted to know who Stryga was? Who she really was? Why she came to Vulture Woods? All the answers are in there. Not just answers about her, but me. Why I did the things I’ve done.”
“Stop.” Stryg shook his head. “Just stop it. Stop acting like you’re going to die. You can tell me all those things yourself.”
“I can’t,” she admitted.
“What? Why not?”
“I never accessed all of the book's contents. Only some parts.”
“But— why?” Stryg frowned.
“Because the book was never meant for me.” She looked him in the eye, “It was meant for you.”
He stumbled a step back. “I don’t understand.”
“It is our legacy to you, Stryg.”
He narrowed his eyes warily, “What aren’t you telling me?”
“More than the burden you can carry right now.” Aurelia smiled weakly, “Just promise me, no matter what happens after the war, you find that book. Promise me.”
“...I promise,” he whispered uncertainly.
“Good, very good,” she whispered and nodded, satisfied. “Sabina is waiting for us. I’ll meet you at the end of the hall when you’re ready.”
“Hey, mom?” Stryg called out.
Aurelia stopped in her steps and glanced back.
“Did you ever see a spirit owl before?” he asked.
“...Once, a long time ago. A group of my friends and I were on a quest in search of a very rare flower.”
“What happened?”
“We found the flower.”
“Oh, somehow I thought that’d be worse.”
Aurelia shrugged stiffly, “Ask Virella. She was my only friend that made it back.”