Struggling to resurface, Habondia's eyes locked onto the figure before her—Abeona. The scene unfolded before her in a chaotic dance of desperation and aggression, as Abeona attempted to harm the defenseless Celtic girl with her bare hands, a raw display of unchecked fury.
"Stop!" Habondia shouted. "Leave her alone!"
Abeona, consumed by her rage, paused in her actions, her chest heaving with exertion. "She's a Schwarzschild," she managed to utter, a hint of bitterness coloring her tone as she released the Celtic girl from her grasp.
Relief washed over Habondia at the sight of Abeona, someone she believed dead. "I am glad to see you again. I am glad that nothing happened to you!” Habondia said, swimming back to the small island. “I would have wanted it to be in different circumstances."
The Celtic girl reached out a trembling hand to caress Abeona’s face whose tears streaming down her pallid cheeks in silent anguish.
Abeona's voice pierced the air as she questioned the Celtic girl. "Who did this to thou? Who has made thee what thou art anon?"
The Celtic girl's whispered response evoked a profound shift in Abeona's demeanor, her eyes transforming from a fiery red to a chilling white with a dark, ominous halo.
"That’s an Old Hebrew name," Abeona's voice quivered with disbelief, her features contorted in a mix of horror and realization as tears welled in her eyes. "The man that made this one into a Schwarzschild."
As the Celtic girl murmured a final revelation, Abeona's composure wavered, her stoic facade crumbling. "It's well enow!" Lala's voice broke the heavy silence, gratitude lacing her words as she expressed her thanks to Habondia for being the first to heed her call.
"What about Columba de Iona?" Habondia asked, and Abeona translated asking the girl.
"The saint did want to free this lass from this prison. He did want to recover the mask and take it to Rome. He cursed a flote dragon and forced it to protect this place. Nevertheless, the Saint seemed to have died before he could release the child."
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Habondia's heart ached with empathy as she gazed upon the dying girl. "We can't leave her here," she insisted.
"No, this one shalt accomplish this lass last wish."
Abeona, with a solemn nod, gently removed the mask from the Celtic girl who turned into skeletal remains in the blink of an eye. The girl's hand, now reduced to a fragile skeleton, began to fall towards the ground, Habondia caught the hand before it shattered.
“She wanted this one to free her of her burden,” Abeona closed her eyes as if in prayer.
Abeona and Habondia stood in silence, their gazes fixed on the weathered skeleton before them. The artificial dim light floating above the small island cast a shadow emphasizing the delicate bones that lay on the damp ground.
"The Sage of the Mountain may yet be among the living, now that this one has come to realize," Abeona murmured. "He could have deceived many, turning them into unwitting pawns. First, this one’s comrades, then Narine, and now this poor soul. The Sage's treachery knows no bounds, and the Schwarzschild can perish without another hand to take their lives. This girl succumbed to a mysterious illness, her only lifeline the mask that shielded her from death's embrace."
Habondia listened intently, her heart heavy with the weight of their grim discoveries.
"I am relieved to see you unharmed. How did you find your way here?" Habondia inquired.
Abeona's irises turned from red to light blue as she looked around the sealed place they found themselves in. "This location was shrouded from this one until you broke the seal. This one felt as if it was calling, this one could not ignore it no longer."
Habondia's hands cradled the skull before her, the bone cool and slick with moisture. Surprisingly intact after all this time, the skull bore the markings of ancient rituals, symbols of power that hinted at a dark past. Yet, Habondia chose not to dwell on those ominous details, focusing instead on the task at hand. “We should bury her back in the surface.”
Abeona's silent approval spurred Habondia into action. Habondia's movements were deliberate as she shed her layers. Her jacket and long-sleeved shirt pooled at her feet, leaving her clad only in her pants and upper undergarments.
“Even for an adventure like this one, thou wear cute undergarments!” Abeona stared at Habondia.
“I’m not doing this on purpose, we need something to wrap and carry the girl's remains and the mask,” Habondia blushed while carefully folding the shirt into a makeshift sack, she crafted a secure and sturdy vessel to cradle the delicate bones of the girl. The fabric rustled softly as she worked, the sound a comforting rhythm amidst the eerie stillness of their surroundings.
"The Mask of Samel," Habondia sighed, as she reached out to claim the malevolent artifact. The mask exuded an aura of darkness and wickedness. As her fingers closed around the carved skull of a ram, a chill crawled down her neck, a sense of foreboding settling in the pit of her stomach.