Souls absorbed: 0
Ashera Thorne’s remaining eye widened at the sight of her husband, Tristan, lifting a beam to form a cross with the statue meant for their god. Lorelai --the woman Ashera often called her soul sister– handed Tristan a foot long nail. Without a second thoughtHe hammered the spike into the beam each blow rang in their ears, like the final toll of a bell, condemning Ashera.
I was faithful! Why are you doing this? Stop it! Ashera thought, wanting to scream at him. Her broken mouth refused her commands, choking her words with red phlegm.
Tears blurred her vision, knowing it was hopeless. The statue that represented everything they had built –a magnificent piece of art that had taken months of sculpting– would be the death of her. It was carved in her likeness, a tribute meant to honor their mayor, now defaced into a mockery of everything it once meant. Its beauty twisted into a cruciform of her death.
No, they want more than just my death, they want to erase any trace of me. Tristan stood silent. A grimace of approval scrawled over his face, satisfied with his work. How can he be so calm? Tristan, my love, put an end to this madness, save me!
Lorelai returned, appearing beside Tristan –standing closer to Ashera’s husband than was proper– with a dozen iron spikes. Each of the rusty nails were as long as Ashera’s forearm, too large for any rational work.
They must have been purposely forged for this sole task, rusty with age... How long ago had those been forged? No–
–how long had Lorelai been planning for this day?
Ashera could not believe what her solitary eye told her, she had given them everything, her trust, her love, all that she was, even her body. Why was her family turning on her after they had come so far?
Ashera shivered, gagging and heaving a wad of bloody spit onto the dirt. Her tongue was torn, silenced. Tristan had discarded her; and the mob around him would soon execute her in the style of the Keresh Reavers. Dammit all, this was wrong! They owed their lives to her, without Ashera they would all be slaves or worse! If they were going to kill her why torture her first? No matter what she had done, she at least deserved their mercy. Why couldn’t they just behead her like the Inquisition? How did it come to this? When had she lost their trust? Her life flashed before her eyes, memories inundating her mind as she sought the answer…
–Two days earlier–
Ashera Thorne leaned against the wall of skulls that comprised their storage shed -just another quirk of life in Ellin Forest- where wood grew like stone, tough, unyielding; and human bones were more plentiful than fallen branches. The baby inside her womb twisted, kicking as it spun inside her, one foot connected with her pelvis, the second foot landing squarely on her spine. Unsteadied by the first blow Ashera crumpled under the one two combo barrage, falling to her knees, legs giving out beneath her. Pain clouded her heart.
“Oof. Damnit! You- You squirrel! Settle down or I’ll- I’ll- have someone yank you out of me!”
Ashera lowered her face, wincing as the words left her mouth. Her baby couldn’t hear them, so there was no real harm, but still she found herself regretting them. She placed a hand over her bulging stomach.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t- it’s just, I- mmm.” Muttered Ashera, covering her face with one hand to collect her thoughts.
Eleven months of pregnancy was making her manic, –along with the insanity of Ellin’s blight– she should have passed this ordeal two months ago, but the baby was proving as stubborn as his father. No matter, the summer solstice was in two days. Whether the extra months were somehow another cursed aspect of life in Ellin or something unique to Ashera, her patron god Loki would have the solution. No matter the problem, Loki always had the answer.
Even if he was sometimes full of shit.
When the Hellgate opened Loki knew the blight would keep Ellin Forest free of demons, when the Capital and inner realms were raped by Hellfire Loki whispered to her core how to find water, when her parents were drawn and quartered to test a new weave of rope Loki had become her mentor, guiding her to the men and women who became her family.
Despite her tingling spine and aching legs Ashera smiled. Her left hand wandered to her overripe stomach, stroking it as if the infant within could feel her touch.
“Aleyander, I’ll love you no matter how many times you kick me. But I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t knock me off my feet. Cmon, let’s get ready to throw a welcome party fit for grandpa Loki. Save your kicks for him.”
Fuzzy skulls met Ashera’s fingers –demonic mutations warping the bones with skeletal ridges and ripples– excellent traction for a pregnant woman to lift herself by. She made her way inside the boney shed, waddling past the rows of spears and arrows on unsteady legs to reach the ceramic vessels that contained the village’s shampoo. Sparing a second to glance backwards she checked to make sure she was alone, after all, mischief caught was mischief prevented-
-And mischief prevented dishonored Loki.
She slipped a wad of pulverized blueberries into each of the shampoo vessels, sporadically skipping vessels to ensure maximum mischief. None of the dark haired Othinaoin residents would notice the sabotage, but the few blondes would soon find their hair stained blue. It would take days -maybe even weeks- for the blueberries to fully leech into the shampoo. Establishing a trickle of mischief to feed Loki. Ashera chuckled as she slipped some of the blueberry mash into her own shampoo, sharing the mischief with her future self. Loki was a god of mockery; not malice, she would dishonor him if she did not accept her own pranks.
“What are you doing?” Asked a voice from the doorway.
“Eeep!” Squeaked Ashera.
Caught blue handed, she straightened her back, trying to keep her blue stained hand concealed. A long-legged woman stood in the doorway, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised, her light brown hair tied in a braid.
Thank Loki! It’s long legged Lorelai. Hmm, she might look good with blue hair. Thought Ashera.
“Don’t you know it’s rude to scare pregnant women? We’re fragile.”
“Fragile like a watermelon.” Teased Lorelai, catching sight of Ashera’s blue hand she rolled her eyes. “Vesper cried the last time you dyed her hair blue.” The edges of her lips twisting downward.
“Don’t be a worrywort. She was only upset because she was alone. This time, we’ll do it first.” Said Ashera, dropping her remaining blueberries into a shampoo jar and shaking it with her hand.
Blue juice began to leech into the liquid shampoo, coloring the fluid a darkly midnight. Ashera’s lips stretched tightly over her teeth, a sign that Lorelai recognized as incoming trouble from past buffoonery.
“Hey, wait a second. Don’t drag me into-” Began Lorelai.
She spun, ducking behind the skull lined doorway to avoid the half-golden half-blue shampoo shower. Isolated in Ellin forest they had to manufacture their own shampoo, resulting in a pungent fluid whose scent refused to be snuffed out in a day. Curses bust from Lorelai’s lips, with enough vulgarity to make a slave trader blush.
“You pregnant troll! This will take all day to wash- oh.”
Ashera leaned against the wall for support, wailing with laughter at her successful illusion. Lorelai’s face appeared around the corner, lips pursed and eyes hooded in a disapproving glare. Ashera waved the still full bottle of homemade shampoo, setting it down alongside the others.
“Gotcha.” She teased.
That was the final straw, Lorelai cracked. Her face broke into a smile and a giggle escaped her open lips.
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“Only a pregnant troll would trick me with piss shampoo in a shed of demon skulls. Wait, you used magic, aren’t you concerned about-”
“The baby?” Injected Ashera. “Aleyander is fine, the blackwood blight is better than a suppression collar for dampening magic. Ooofff.” Began Ashera, sighing loudly. “I may have overdone it. That twinkling illusion cost me a week’s worth of mana. Even inside this bone shielded shed the blight still leeches my spells.”
At least, that’s what I tell myself to justify these creepy ass bones. Sometimes I wish we never came to Ellin, or that we lived closer to the edge and could bring real wood into town.
Ashera channeled mana through herself, checking on her reserves, mana was measured in time units, seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, etc, all roughly corresponding to how long it took the most common level of magi to generate the mana. Outside of Ellin forest, Ashera –a highly uncommon magi– generated a week of mana each day, within Ellin forest, she was lucky to get a few hours each day. Flavorless scraps of lukewarm healing for the village to subsist on. Though with each of the blighted trees they felled, her power grew. A few more acres cleared and her power would return, just a few more months, or a year at the latest.
“Tis bad luck to name a babe before they are born. The god of luck may be your patron, but you should slow down and stop courting misfortune like a virginal succubus.”
“A virginal succubus? Are you trying to flatter my fat ass? Cause it’s working.” Snorted Ashera, rubbing her baby bump.
Lorelai laughed with her and the women interlaced their arms. Ashera leaning on her bosom bestie as she waddled through their clandestine town. A secret kept so well that they had no name for their collection of bone huts and growing fields. The honor of naming would belong to the town’s patron deity, whenever Loki finally decided to grace them with his presence. Hopefully a name and his blessing would bring closure to their flight from the war and comfort to the mothers who had already miscarried. Ashera tried not to think about how many women had lost their unborn children, tried not to let fear make her heart beat faster as she thought about being two months overdue.
She laughed to chase away the fear, Lorelai supporting her along their way, discussing pleasantries, the impending solstice, and the preparations pertaining to Loki’s arrival. They walked around the village, they were up to twenty buildings now –enough for all of Loki’s Lucky Seventy Seven disciples to sleep inside– with three heaping piles of bones some of the women were sorting through. Femurs and humeri made for surprisingly effective studs while the skulls filled in for bricks. Just another aspect of ‘normal’ life in Ellin Forest.
Balorian spared a second to smile at them, hastily returning to the cooking pot that fed the entire village. Without access to wood they had to consolidate fuel with communal duties, not that anyone minded working a little harder so Balorian could cook. He had spent his life in high society, cooking for the nobles of Takioomi, rising through their kitchens in his quest for culinary perfection. Right up until the siege –and subsequent starvation– soured the nobles against him. They showed their true colors then, mocking the miracle chef as nothing more than another worthless mouth to feed. Ashera smiled at the irony, remembering how Lorelai almost left Balorian behind when she broke them out of the mayor’s dungeon. Had they done so they would have starved during their first year in Ellin. Crops grew strangely within the forest, as did all life, the blight seemed to suck the life out of crops, resulting in pathetic harvests and hostile native flora. Balorian alone knew what was safe to eat and how to prepare the freakishly durable plants, despite being limited to dried poop fires and a single pot.
Leaving the chef in peace they strolled onward, Ashera feigning a smile for everyone. She was their champion, their mage, their informal mayor, and their erratically loving poltergeist. So on they walked, never spending too much time in one place. Ashera didn’t want to distract them or raise anyone’s suspicions.
They walked past the fields and Ashera noticed her brother, Ephraim, was still in his hammock. “Lazy butt,” she grumbled. “It’s past noon! Let’s go flip him over.”
“Mischief not malice.” Lorelai said, her warning clear.
“Don’t cite the first law to me! I’m the one who wrote it!” Said Ashera indignantly.
“I saw him up late with Haven, those two have been close recently.” Gossiped Lorelai.
Ashera allowed herself to be dragged away, trying not to roll her eyes at the lie. Lorelai had stayed with her for all of last night, she would not have had the opportunity to witness Ephraim’s hammock bound rendezvous. She should have called her out on the lie, but let it pass, Ephraim must have his reasons for lazing about while everyone worked, and she could forgive him for sleeping in once. He was her baby brother after all.
They passed by Rowan and Vesper, the couple butchering one of the rare Ellin Forest Boars --prey that only the yoked Rowan or Seraphic Tristan seemed capable of bringing down– though it was strange to see Vesper’s proficiency with knives as she dismantled the boar. Quartering the beast in the span of a few moments. Rowan helped his wife, skinning the boar and breaking the bones so Vesper’s blades could trim the fat from muscle. Besides the trimmings, which would be dried, it would all go to Balorian’s prep table. Vesper caught sight of them and waved a bloody hand warmly, her hair bluer than the day Ashera had dyed it.
She must have dyed it by herself. Thought Ashera, reciprocating Vesper’s smile as she returned the wave.
“I guess Rowan likes blueberries.” Giggled Ashera.
Lorelai sucked on her teeth. “Involving yourself in someone else's marriage isn’t mischief.”
“Even if I improve it?” Ashera retorted, her happy tone fading at Lorelai’s cuckolded jest. Deciding to make the mood she tried again. “Vesper is going to bring Aleyander into this world. After that, sign me up to take care of her needs!”
“As if she needs a washed up mage like you. Just look at that boar, there isn’t a mark on its hide. I bet the stud wrestled it until he died of exhaustion.” Chortled Lorelai.
Ashera glanced back at Rowan, he was easily the largest man in the village, and none of his bulk came from sloth. Whenever Vesper made his shirts she had to use twice as much fabric and three times as much fabric when she made his pants. A thought entered her mind, one that had intruded on her conscious mind before. How can Rowan be so strong, and still be human? Or did the blood of demonkind flow through his veins? The blood of the angels was self-evident, and Rowan carried none of those marks, but an infernal lineage could only exist in secret, naturally selecting against visible deformities.
A coupling of humanity and demons created cambions, a foul amalgamation that the Inquisition and all nobles would slay. Or, if it were fortunate enough to be born on the winning side of the war, enslaved and worked to death by the demons. It should not have been possible for Rowan to be a cambion, but Ashera still wondered.
“You’ve got the scowl of an unfinished murder. Are we going back to war after you give birth? Gerscav would pay us a king's ransom for Tristan’s heritage and your magic. I can’t say I miss half rations on holidays and fresh rat every other day, but the thralls aren’t going to kill themselves.” Said Lorelai, her tone forcibly even.
They fell silent for a moment, neither woman wanting to reminisce about the darkest time of their lives. Ashera’s heart ached, she wanted to leave Ellin Forest, she missed the battlefield where her magic mattered. A dozen illusionary soldiers could easily pull on the strings of fate, and the sense of purpose she felt after healing was an all devouring opiate that left her itching for the next hit. Ashera scratched her arm, recalling the blindness of gratitude that filled starving soldiers' eyes after she healed a few of their scratches. She was no Seraph, calling thunder and lightning was beyond her ability, but setting a broken bone, purifying a festering wound, or enhancing a dagger so it could cleave through steel tower shields were well within her abilities. At least they were, when she was outside of Ellin Forest.
There was a saying, that once you have a child you’ll never look at another person and see them as anything other than someone else’s child.
Can I kill again? Will I be able to look Aleyander in the eye if we go back to the war? Thought Ashera, she raised a hand to rub her brow, trying to squeeze her doubts away.
We will never find out. She promised herself.
“Death would be kinder than returning to that hell. Although…” Began Ashera, a hypocritical grin crossing her face. “I will never be able to forget the taste of rat brain after a week on an empty stomach.”
Lorelai blanched, clearly remembering exactly how ‘fresh’ the rats they had eaten during the capital siege were. The Prince, in all his noble brilliance, had ordered that no fires of any kind could be lit for fear of enemy mages zeroing in on him through the darkness. What did it matter that he only visited the walls during the day, his life was more valuable than the commoner’s ability to cook or see. ‘Fireballs for campfires’ had been their watchwords for a month before the sergeants intervened and put an end to his idiocracy. Ashera shuddered at the memory, wondering how that carnage could exist in the same world as Ellin forest.
“Thank you for saving me back then…” Whispered Ashera, thinking of the subsequent second siege of Takioomi. “If you hadn’t pulled me out of the city when you did- ah… The demons would have found me chained up in the mayor’s cellar with a suppression collar around my neck… And you know what they do to a female mage-”
“Stop it!” Shouted Lorelai, suddenly finding her breath short. “Your stupid tricks got us out of Takioomi. I did nothing except steal some keys. It was you who saved us when you led our families through the legions.” Lorelai’s voice quieted and Ashera felt her shiver despite the afternoon sun. “I’ll never forget their camp, charnel pyramids, what they did to those captives, the cooking pits, and… and what they had built…” She shuddered.
Lorelai’s hands grasped at Ashera’s arm, one hand reaching past to clutch at her belly. Aleyander squirmed, Ashera ground her teeth, trying hard not to remember the nightmares of her past. They came anyway, invading her waking mind as easily as they invaded her dreams, eternally dragging her back to yesterday’s hell. Her mind faded as the memories claimed dominion over her eyes, and successive jolts to her insides sent her tumbling, reeling as Aleyander kicked the wind out of her lungs. Pain overrode her trauma, snapping her into the present.
“Gah! Ack!” Coughed Ashera, collapsing onto her knees and flopping backwards onto her ass.
“Ashera!” Cried Lorelai.
She sank backwards, slumping onto the tough grass that was endemic to Ellin. Ashera’s hands went to her hump, her mind consumed by the most important life in her univers. Lorelai’s cry caught the attention of those nearby, who came running, Rowan in their fore and blueberry Vesper at his heel. Ashera took a moment to sense herself, mentally scanning her body for any sensation of damage. She called upon her soul, extracting a drop of Mana to circulate through herself. A sort of mana starved pulse to check herself. She closed her eyes, cursing herself for making a scene.
Everyone around her was staring with such pitiable looks, concern etched into their wrinkles. She hated it. She tried to sit up using her arms to counterbalance herself only to fail miserably. Ashera would have done anything to make them laugh. Blinking away tears she laid back, scanning the eyes of those around her.
“I feel like a pregnant turtle.”
She pressed her fingers together and flapped her hands, weakly echoing her words with actions. Rowan let out a groaning chuckle, concern melting into gal at her antics. Vesper snorted, circling around Ashera until she could see up her skirt. Laughter dispersed the crowd, making most people miss her next words.
“It’s a real shame that you are enjoying your pregnancy so much, cause it's about to end.”
Ashera’s heart skipped a beat, horrified by Vesper’s dark implication. Is something wrong with the baby? I didn’t fall that hard. Boar’s blood was soaking into Vesper’s hands; combined with her blue hair she looked like an undead revenant, coming to devour the living. Rowan exhaled loudly, the rollercoaster of emotions too much for the stoic man.
“Babe, what do you mean by that? If I didn’t know any better I would think you were an axe murderer.”
Vesper pursed her lips, pouting like a child. “Cmon! That was hilarious!”
Ashera roared with laughter, joined by Lorelai’s chuckles, and Rowan covering his face in embarrassment. Tears streamed down Ashera’s cheeks, shaken free by her mirth. She gasped for air, choking out a few words between breaths.
“As hilarious as a sack of kidney stones.”
That got a chuckle from Rowan -who knew better than anyone- the limits of Vesper’s comedic abilities. Vesper’s pout turned into an exasperated sneer.
“Well I thought it was funny. Forget I ever said anything!” She yelled, expression turning serious she leaned into Ashera’s personal space, getting uncomfortably close.
“This isn’t the time for one of my tonics, we need to get you home. Your water broke.”
—Ashera suddenly understood why her family was going to crucify her.--