A large group of warriors waited beneath the tall trees that lined the road. They looked much like humans, except for their jade-colored skin, sharp teeth, and eyes that were just a little too large. Jasper recognized them immediately: The Children of St. Martin. One of only two Fey factions that didn’t participate in the Fey wars, the Children were still free to roam the empire. But they were a rare sight indeed. Jasper had heard tales of the magnificent realms they had built beneath the surface from a few players lucky enough to experience them, but they were notoriously closed off behind quests that were almost impossible to unlock.
As the elves approached the Children, a few of them came out to greet them, led by a tall woman with raven hair. She wore a simple black tunic, unadorned except for the emblem that spread across her chest, perhaps a sign of her people. She had no armor, and only the large mace that hung at her side suggested she was capable of fighting. As she approached Aphora, she inclined her head in the elven gesture of respect. Aphora returned the favor, baring her teeth, and the jade beauty grinned in delight, exposing a mouth full of uncomfortably sharp teeth. “Greetings, elf. It is rare to meet overlanders familiar with our customs.” The fey's words, spoken in a rich baritone, came haltingly, an unidentifiable accent breaking through.
Aphora’s eyes shifted to Torin, who rode beside her. “I had a good tutor. But it has been two centuries since I last saw any of the Children roaming these lands. Tell me, what brings you this way?”
The leader approached with a lazy confidence stopping just short of Aphora's stag. “My ḫas̆s̆ātar, uh, my clan is migrating to the west. Our priests, the s̆ankunniēs̆, sent us to seek a realm of ours lost in the lands beyond the river. When we stopped in Ikkarim for provisions, my ḫas̆s̆ātar told me that your people spoke of an undead tuzzis̆ threatening the land…” Jasper hung on her every word. Her big, beautiful black eyes, framed by luscious locks, filled his vision, as the gorgeous woman pled her tale.
“Oof.” He grunted as something hard slammed into his ribs.
“Snap out of it.” Blinking his eyes, he turned to find Ihra watching him, a mix of annoyance and concern on her face. What was I-? His thoughts were interrupted as the leader’s melodious voice filled his ears, and he turned back to catch another glimpse of her eyes.
The second blow was a lot harder. He winced in pain as the dulcet tones were broken by a slightly shrill voice. “Hey, look at me.” Ihra waved her hands back and forth in front of his face. "Focus, Jasper." The bewitching tones rang in his ears as he begrudgingly focused on her. All trace of annoyance was gone, replaced by worry. “Put your fingers in your ear and close your eyes. I’ll let you know when it's safe.”
He sat there for a while, his eyes tightly shut, and his fingers in his ears, feeling like an idiot. What sort of witchcraft was that? The feeling of being utterly ensorcelled, deprived of his own will, was deeply unsettling. What’s worse was that he didn’t know how to defend against it. It was not like plugging his ears was a real option in most situations. His morose musings were eventually interrupted when someone shook him on the shoulder.
“What the hell happened?” He started to complain to Ihra, but his eyes widened when he saw it was not her. Instead, the woman stood before him. She opened her mouth to speak, and he felt a moment of discomfort as he saw her razor-sharp teeth - the teeth and black eyes reminding him of episodes of Shark Week - but the discomfort slid away beneath the gaze of her big black eyes. Almost in a trance, he dismounted from Dapplegrim and bowed at her feet. His heart thrilled with joy when he felt her fingers graze his cheek, as she lifted him up from the ground. He wanted to object when she took his hand - he was unworthy! - but watched mutely as the divine being traced an emblem into his palm.
A moment later, blushing furiously, he snatched his hand away from hers, glaring around in confusion. A sea of amused elves surrounded him, but it was the pity he saw in the woman’s eyes that truly mortified him. He backed away, reaching out a comforting hand for Dapplegrim, blanching as a searing pain rushed through his head, emanating from the diadem on his brow. Too little, too late, pal.
The woman extended her hand to him, and he blanched as he saw her black eyes and sharp teeth. “Please, there’s no need to be afraid. I etched a ḫukmais̆ onto your hand that will protect you from whatever enchantment is upon you”
Jasper looked at his palm and saw an elaborate seal had been branded into the skin. He probed it carefully, expecting a burst of pain, but the symbol, though new, was fully healed. He looked up at her and felt not a trace of compulsion from here as he searched her jet-black eyes. Not trusting himself to speak in front of the crowd of onlookers, Jasper bowed his head in thanks and pulled himself up on the horse.
The fey woman stepped forward, looking as if she wanted to say something further, but thought better of it. She returned to her group, and they stood aside as the elven forces began to march down the road. When the last of them passed, the Children of St. Martin followed behind.
Jasper didn’t speak for a while, and Ihra didn’t push him. The moon was high in the sky before he finally broached the question. “So what happened back there when I, you know, lost my mind?”
Ihra shook her head. “I don’t know exactly; no one felt the need to fill me in. But from what I overhead of the discussion between the Fey and Aphora, I gathered it had something to do with your blessing from the seraph. The Fey woman said something about how the seraphs had once served the Children of St. Martin. She seemed very confused by your reaction.” Ihra's lips pursed into a frown as she watched him. The light of the moon slipped through the canopy of tall trees, lighting up his face and shoulders. His brown hair, once merely shaggy, now fell on his shoulders, and the scruff along his chin was well on its way to a beard.
He held his hand up, examining his palm in the moonlight. “Do you think this symbol will really work?”
“Well, you did come to your senses. You aren’t drooling all over another woman, so I guess it worked.” A hint of irritation crept back into her words.
With a sigh, Jasper let the hand fall back into his lap. When he had the chance, he’d ask Aphora to look at it. If the mark was harmless, so be it, and he even allowed himself to nurture the faint hope that maybe it would provide protection against other types of mind magic. But if it didn’t, he really needed to find some sort of defense. That woman had apparently dominated his mind without even trying. They rode through the night and into the day, only stopping as the second night began to fall.
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After a quick supper, Ihra disappeared into her tent. Jasper watched her go, knowing he should follow her and grab some precious sleep while had the chance, but the events of the previous day still preyed on his mind. He sat down by the fire watching the logs crackle and pop beneath the flames, the sparks flying up into the dark night sky. Leaning back against Dapplegrim’s belly, he felt the sleeping horse stir and absent-mindedly rubbed her head. "Go back to sleep, Dapplegrim," he whispered, staring up at the unfamiliar stars. What am I doing here? He wanted to kick himself as the thought crossed his mind and shook his head vigorously, as if the action could dislodge it from his thoughts. I can't afford to indulge in some dark night of the soul.
A movement in the firelight caught his attention, and Jasper dragged his eyes away from the stars in time to see the Fey woman sitting down across from him. The fire's reflection danced in the black void of her eyes, and Jasper immediately stumbled to his feet, his pulse racing, his mind already reaching for a spell. Alarmed, she held out a hand. “Please, sit. I mean you no harm.”
He paused, pushing down the panic, and after a moment of indecision, slowly sat back down. But as he began to sit, the doubt surged through his mind. Did I sit down because I wanted to, or because she influenced me? She's controlling me! Panic renewed, he stood up and started to back away, sacred star lingering on the tips of his fingers. But as he took steps back into the dense jungle brush, the prickly bushes futilely scrapping against his toughened skin, the realization kicked in. He had ignored her words. She was not controlling him.
Calm washed over him and he cautiously returned to the fire, staring intently at her as he approached. She waited patiently as he examined her. The fey was still beautiful, even if her greenish skin was rather strange, but he was no longer held captive in her eyes. In fact, the wholly black eyes were just a touch creepy, he realized. Confident that whatever hold she had had on him was truly broken, he finally spoke. “What do you want?”
The fey leaned forward with a toothy grin. “Truthfully, I was mostly just curious. I’d never seen someone react to me like that before, but it reminded me of stories I'd heard in my childhood.” She wrapped her arms around her knees and cocked her head to the side, watching him. “What do you know of the relationship between seraphs and the Children?”
Jasper snorted. “Honestly? Absolutely nothing.”
A frown crossed her lips. “How can you know nothing of your people?”
He shook his head, "Tell me what you know, and perhaps I will tell you in turn."
She laughed, but when she saw he was serious, gave a resigned sight. “Very well. The history of our peoples is one of trust and betrayal. Long ago the seraphs were forced to flee from their home among the stars. They came to the land, and after wandering for a time, arrived in our courts, begging for refuge. The elders of the Children took counsel and agreed to offer refuge in exchange for a price. Few of the Children delight in war, preferring to sail the sunken seas and build great halls, so they asked the seraphs to serve as our warriors.”
“It seemed a reasonable request to the seraphs, veterans of many battles, but they were not used to dealing with the Fey. The seraphs were tricked by my people, deceived into making a deal that extended far beyond what they imagined. Their wills were bound to my people, their whole being utterly devoted to our protection, a legion of champions at our command. With the prowess of the seraphs, the Children forged their underground realms, conquering the forgotten lands and scouring the darkness from them.
For millennia, the seraphs served our people, but creatures so powerful can not be bound forever. They chafed at their restrictions, growing ever more clever at evading them. Eventually, a new generation of Children chose to sever the contract, fearing that when the seraphs broke their shackles, they would turn and slaughter us.”
The woman leaned forward toward him. “All of that was long ago now, long before even my great-grandparents were born. The seraphs have been free for a long time, but your reaction to me was straight out of one of the old stories. Why were you affected? How can you not know this story? Did you escape from a faction of Children still keeping seraphs in chains?”
The questions tumbled out of her, and he sensed the earnestness in her words.
“I’m not really a seraph. Or at least I don’t think I am.” Jasper fumbled with his words. “Truthfully, I’m not sure what I am.” Perhaps the weeks of barely sleeping finally caught up to him, as without really thinking, the truth spilled out of his mouth. “I’m not from this world.”
Her eyes widened. “So you’re a summoned?”
Jasper sat forward, suddenly alert, as he realized the woman before him might know what had happened to him. “Do you know how I came here?”
She shook her head, her long raven locks rippling over her shoulders. “Only rumors, I’m afraid. There are stories, though. I've heard of rituals that can drag people from other worlds, either to serve as warriors or to steal their souls. Supposedly, a large number were summoned during the Empire’s Desolyton and were one of the reasons the empire was able to secure its victory."
A mixture of anger and confusion coursed through him. "Why? Why would they take us? I'm nothing compared to someone like Aphora."
The fey clicked her tongue, rejecting his words. "Not now, but your soul is far stronger than most. This world is slowly dying, and the number of grays grows in each generation. But people like you, who come from worlds where magic is all but forgotten, still have rich, vibrant souls. It is a tempting prize for those who are desperate for power - whether to rule or merely survive.”
He growled. “That doesn't make it right. I had a life, friends, family and they-" He cut himself off, grinding his teeth. The woman in front of him was not to blame, and yelling at her would accomplish nothing except possibly pissing her off. He wanted answers more than he wanted to yell at her. Carefully modulating his tone, he questioned her. "Do the rumors say who does the summoning?”
The fey hesitated. “There are three groups who supposedly know how to do it, although perhaps other factions lurk in the shadows: the Mwyrani, the Sidhe, and the Fey.”
Jasper’s mind seized on the first group as he suddenly made the connection. The Mwyrani? Wasn’t that the name of the company that made the games?
The Fey continued, oblivious to his thoughts. “But you must be wrong when you say you aren't a seraph. The summoning process simply takes souls from other worlds. It reveals the potential of what was already there, but it cannot change your inherent nature. Such a task would beyond even the power of the gods, except, perhaps, the Progenitor. If the system identifies you as a seraph, then on your other world, you must have been descended from them. Perhaps some seraphs, before the shackles on their mind had been broken, fled from our world to yours.”
Jasper shook his head, about to reject her claim. That’s impossible - isn’t it? The error message he'd received at the very beginning suddenly flashed through his mind again. He could see the red words flashing in the darkness of the void: “Resonance Found.” Surely it didn’t mean-?
She stood up. “I hope we can talk again before my group has to leave, but with the coming battle, that may be impossible.” Walking over to him, she tied a leather band around his wrist. A small jade disc, hollowed out in the middle, dangled from the band. “I believe we’ll run into each other again someday. But for now, let me give you this token. It will identify you as a friend to any Children you meet. You may tell them that Tes̆ha-Is̆tana, the great Is̆ḫas̆arra of Ḫas̆s̆atar Is̆tanu granted you safety among the people.”
Jasper nodded mutely, his mind still reeling from the revelations, as she turned to leave. “You should really get some sleep. Battle lies ahead.”
Despite her advice, it was some time before sleep finally came to him.