CLXXXVIII.
The fire flickered in the night, embracing her with caring
Heat ‘round her face. Aurianne peered towards the dancing flame,
Which blinded her shortly as her eyes adjusted to the claim
Of light. She sat upwards and gazed down at her hands wearing,
Blistered and bruised. Slightly baffled, she spoke within the shared mind:
“Ríona, dear? Art thou present?” Silence. She felt an unkind
Rush of unease; however, promptly saw this bind bearing
A fruit of cunning fortune which found her luck to be unerring.
CLXXXIX.
Audar stepped into the light carrying wood for the pyre
And noticed the movement of who he thought was his heiress:
“Thou art finally ‘wake! It’s been a day since thy loss of wit
Which hath kept you up enduringly!” Unbeknownst to the sire,
His daughter was not the one in control of the vessel.
On the initiative, the witch chose to pretend and nestle
Herself upon the reigns firmly, using lore she did acquire
Of the lass’ mannerisms, sought to meticulously conspire.
CXC.
She put forth her best facade: “By the gods, my body aches so!
Has it really been this long?” The chief nodded in warm accord
And set the wood next to the campfire. The witch could not afford
Her eyes be seen, as they were adorned in purpurate flame-glow;
Therefore, she made sure to obscure them with the flickering fire
And would ne’er let them be made bare in the shadow’s choir.
She carefully enquired: “How did we end up in this grotto?
What of the wicked beasts which sought to feed on the potent flow?”
CXCI.
With a gracious smile, he passed her a loaf of bread and gently
Brushed her hair: “Eat, for an arduous journey still awaits.
Rest now, for thou hath pushed thyself to a most extreme of states.
A feat mere mortals could never fathom to achieve intently,
Yet thou art mortal still.” He took some time for pause as fire
Continued to flicker. “After thy pass into the dream-mire
I skirted the beasts and escaped their sight, then found this entry
Of a cave which would serve as our sanctuary friendly.”
CXCII.
The goddess gathered the loaf and nodded in deceitful agreement,
As she scanned the entrance which was warded by nature’s haul.
Leaves, rocks, and branches secured with sparse dressing of magick sprawl
Held it all together in place, ensuring their concealment.
Soon after their supper, Audar yawned and remarked fatherly:
“Although thou hath slept much, thou mustest mend thy spirit wholly.
So, sleep, my dear child, and as we wake we’ll make progress decent
Towards the army, which awaits our arrival vehement!”
CXCIII.
As the chief dozed off, Aurianne gazed at the story of the flame
Which painted with a single colour on the canvas of the stone.
Assured that Audar had fallen asleep due to the groan
And drone of his snoring, she harnessed her scheming stealth-fame,
Making her way from the cavern. With a flick of a finger’s caress,
She made an outward passage and sought the seclusion’s recess.
Following her astute intuition, she quickly came
To the perfect place in which her ritual offering she could tame.
CXCIV.
In a circled enclosure of tall trees, she raised a standing stone
From the ground itself. Placing her hand upon the column
Painted in glyphs of the Fractured House, she closed her solemn
Eyes which were now the only source of light beside the lone,
Brightly shining cloud-moon. Beneath her palm, azure drips began
To slowly flow down the basalt bluestone, wind rushed and ran
Through her hair in gusts; a seam between the worlds was being sewn,
As she reminded herself of wisdoms she had always known.
CXCV.
“In the end, Aurianne, thou mustest always do everything
By thyself. Thou couldst not trust thy own sister with the simplest
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Of tasks. Thou couldst not trust Sky, the precious child that she is,
With finding the answers of the immortality wellspring,
And thou couldst never hath wagered Ríona to fail the challenge…
I’ve raised her well… Her kin-blood carries such bountiful talent.
Alas, here I stand now, awaiting for the wretched beast-wing
To arrive and finally begin my carefully planned event-string.”
CXCVI.
Suddenly, she heard a hum arrive like the wailing wind,
An event she did not expect. In shock, she jumped as a critter
Brushed past her ankle, while several more rat-squeals would chitter
In the nearness. Aurianne rolled her eyes in irate chagrin
And stated her annoyance: “The Faceless… ‘tis you. Do you not see…”
She snorted at her unintended use of irony,
“… I am in the middle of something important herein?
Rat Keeper, why are you vexing me at this hour serene?”
CXCVII.
With the slowest of steps, he entered into the hue of light
Whereupon his face was revealed, his feathered turban danced
About as if pushed by wind, yet the night was still in its prance.
Aurianne was met with a face of familiar recite,
Yet her host’s instincts were sometimes still playing with her nerve
And control of emotions; rooted was the girl’s mind-reserve.
She took her hand off the stone, turning towards him without fright,
For she reckoned there was a reason for this searing spite.
CXCVIII.
The face was barren, bereft of features but burnished skin.
Where his eyes were supposed to be placed, nothing but a faint
Hue of crimson purpurate below skin. Where his nose quaint
Was supposed to be placed – skin. Where his mouth – skin. His gaunt and thin
Hands held a pitch-black rat, gently petting it, gliding haggard
Fingers across the fur which seemed to not reflect light scattered.
The Witch was closely watched by the red eyes of the rodent-kin
As his words began to reverberate as a soul-voice from within.
CXCIX.
“In paucity, thou plottest. In charity thou cheatest.
In benevolence, thou betrayest! And now, this action?
Thou seekest to bring forwards such turmoil of exaction?
Tell me, Aurianne; my Queen, willest this sacrifice blessed
Giveth thee satisfaction?” She chuckled at him in grave
Contempt and answered with a tone by remoteness paved:
“You dare ask me such things, boy? Had it not been at my behest,
You would still be stuck in the sewers. You are my acquest!”
CC.
I made you! What friendship do you call upon? The goodwill
Which left me on my knees seventeen sickly years ago?
When all I begged for was mercy from the Flat Blade’s end bestowed?”
She straightened herself and shook off the bluish magick-spill
Which had been flowing down her, with a fast and slashing motion
“Why hast thou come?!” she demanded with foreboding emotion
Which caused all the rats to disperse as the wildest anthill.
“What does she want?” The sharp words could even kin-in-kind spine-chill.
CCI.
Taking a step back, he answered: “Kin-in-kind are concerned
Why thy ambitions. This might be too soon for the people-folk.
They barely survived the last time. As for “her,” I shan’t stoke
This flame, I do this of my own accord, for I had learned
Of thy spirit as my flock traversed the world’s underbrush.
I want but ask thee of caution: recalculation in thy rush.
I beg my leave, dear Lady.” With a bowed head, he slowly turned
Into the darkness, dispersed, and into the shadows returned.
CCII.
She shouted amid his leave: “For once, thou shouldst use thy namesake.
Keep to thyself and be born of ignorance, son of the Grim.
Perchance, we meet again!” With a grin, she turned and placed her forelimb
Back on top the stone and proceeded in the ritual’s wake.
The flow poured down the rock again, glowing anew with elation.
Her eyes rolled upwards as she whispered an incantation
Of uncanny root. From the flowy mist, a wickrow would break
Forth from the gate of ether: tamed, serene. The world was at stake.
CCIII.
Smirking in devious fascination, she had approached it.
The creature, adorned in ample ornaments, kneeled before
Her as she hushed its breaking breaths: “Shh, poor thing. Here, ‘tis your
Kin-blood, so imbibe. Let us beget greatness if thou shouldst permit,
Eleanore of House Whotrin.” The wickrow stopped huffing and eased.
Before another word could be spoken, Aurianne unsheathed
Her dagger, cut her palm and placed it on its beak submit.
“Drink!” she ordered. Voraciously, the beast to the task commit.