The stifling silence was broken by the light patter of footsteps on the deck behind him as Kaṣîtūma finally emerged from the bowels of the ship. She had exchanged her gauzy white dress for a simple linen tunic. A long wooden staff, weighted on both ends with metal, swung in her hands, but other than that she bore no weapons or armor.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Little underdressed, aren’t you?”

Kaṣî's laughter echoed across the stilled sea. “The only reason I’m wearing anything at all is because you’re here. Didn’t want you to die of embarrassment.” She smirked, “Or, you know, jealousy.”

“Jealousy? What do I have to be jealous of?”

“Nobody said it would be your jealousy that would kill you.” She quipped, as she joined him at the railing. “We can’t bring the ship any closer to the docks without risking the safety of the others, but I have a spell that lets me walk across water. I guess I’ll just have to carry you over." She turned to him with a glimmer of amusement sparkling in her eye. "Any preferences? Piggy-back? Princess style?”

Jasper snorted. “Princess, obviously.” His aunt started to grab his waist, and he rapidly twisted out of her arms. “Wait, wait, I was kidding,” he protested. “I don’t need your help to get to the island. Got a spell of my own that will get me there.”

“Alright,” she conceded, letting go of him. “You should have me sooner. If I had known I didn't have to carry you, I wouldn’t have needed this tunic.”

“Ah, no, I'm pretty sure you need it either way. I don’t really feel like we have a no-clothes-needed sort of relationship, to be honest.”

The elf frowned. “I guess your world must be as prudish as the Djinn are. We elves are not quite so concerned about such things.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Really? Don’t most of you live in the frozen north?”

His aunt rolled her eyes. “Tell me, Yas̆peh, do you feel the cold these days?”

“Well, no,” he admitted.

“Neither do we.”

“I guess you could say the cold never bothered you anyways,” he offered with a sly grin.

Kạsîtūma just looked puzzled. “Yes, that’s literally what I’m saying.”

“Nevermind,” he muttered to himself.

After another puzzled glance, she shrugged him off and slipped over the side of the boat. “Alright, let's head out -I’ll meet you on the docks.”

Jasper watched silently as she set off across the water, curious about her powers. With each step she took, the water beneath her feet froze into place. The ice lasted only as long as her feet were in contact with the water, melting back into the sea as soon as she moved away. It was definitely a useful skill, but slower than he would have expected. Cool, but no match for my wings.

Bored with watching her spell, a wide grin split his face as Jasper summoned his own spell. A spasm tore down his back as the strange, spectral wings emerged from his core and a moment later he was soaring through the air.

He zipped past his aunt, buzzing low enough overhead for the wind from his wings to ruffle her hair and, ignoring her angry “Hey,” left her behind in the dust. In less than a minute, he had reached the abandoned dock. He landed softly at the end of the pier, the spectral wings fluttering silently behind him.

There was still no sign of danger, but as soon as he landed, Jasper was all business. Don’t want to get killed before she even gets here.

With a sword drawn and a spell on the edge of his fingers, he searched the shadows vigilantly as he waited for her to catch up. But nothing so much as moved until his aunt arrived.

She pulled herself up onto the dock and crouched down beside him. Her dress was soaked and she paused to wring out her hair.

“Decided to take a swim?”

“The water looked simply irresistible,” she quipped, as she pulled her hair back. “In truth, I misjudged the time on the spell - must be getting a little bit rusty. There’s not exactly a lot of opportunities for combat when you’re stuck at the palace all the time.”

Grabbing him by the shoulder, she shoved him forward. “Here, unless you want to be embarrassed, turn away.”

“What-“ He started to turn back to look at her, but quickly averted his eyes, albeit not before seeing a bit more flesh than he would have preferred as she begin to strip off her dress.

“Just me give me a moment to cast the spell.” A strange clinking echoed behind him as she spoke, but he didn’t turn around until she tapped him on the shoulder. “All right, let’s track down an utukku.”

She brushed past him, heading down the dock with a long and confident stride. The soaked tunic she had worn was neatly folded up on the dock beside him, but she had been right - she didn’t need it. Almost her entire body, save for her head and her hands were covered in a protective layer of deep blue ice. So that’s why she doesn’t need armor. Some sort of spell similar to my own Bramble Crown. Speaking of which… Reminded by his aunt, he cast Bramble Crown, relaxing as he felt the thin layer of bark creep across his skin.

He hurried to catch up with her as she neared the end of the dock.

“So where are all the monsters,” he whispered. “Didn’t you say this place was so dangerous even adventurers didn’t want to come here?”

She pointed up to the encircling cliffs, whose steep faces were lined with row upon row of tombs. “Fortunately, most of the qebrū stay close to the cliffs. The utukku wander a bit further afield, but they normally stay near the temple. Follow me,”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

The elf stepped off the dock and into the tangled forest, with Jasper close at her heels.

Despite the oppressive silence that covered the island, the air on the docks had been fine, refreshed by the same subtle breezes that swept across the lake. But as soon as Jasper’s foot touched the needle-covered dirt, the air changed. A thick, cloying smell filled his nostrils, a stench that was somehow simultaneously both revolting and appealing. He gagged, clutching his arm tight over his mouth as he slunk after her. “What the hell is that?”

“Death,” she replied simply.

The forest was an almost impenetrable thicket. The cypress grew so close together that in most places progress was impossible. They were forced to wriggle and squirm their way through narrow openings, winding back and forth between trees. All sight of the sea was quickly lost and, with it, the gentle sea breeze, making the stench even more unbearable.

Stumbling over a twisted root, he tumbled to the ground. He pushed himself back up immediately, annoyed rather than hurt, but froze when he heard a sound. Far off, to the left and behind him, the cry of a child echoed in the woods. “What-?”

His words were cut off as his aunt’s hands clamped tight around his mouth. “Shh, don’t respond,” she whispered in his ear. “There are worse things than even the utukku on this accursed isle.” They waited as the cry sounded again, and then a third time. Then silence returned to the island.

The minutes ticked by slowly until, finally, his aunt released him and turned back to the forest.

Jasper followed her, casting nervous glances over his shoulder. “What the hell was that?”

“Some adventurers claimed to have encountered a child with skin of porcelain and empty sockets in place of eyes, a child whose very touch was death.”

“Like a possessed doll?”

“No, much worse than that. A gallû, a shade that has escaped the Sea of Oblivion, cursed to wander aimlessly until Nahrēmah fulfills her sacred purpose. If you see one, run. They cannot be killed, or even hurt, but even the slightest touch from them will destroy your very soul.”

He suppressed a shudder. “All right, so ignore crying children in the woods. Got it.”

“Shh,” she hushed him. “We’re here.”

The tangle of cypresses began to open up, forced apart by alabaster walls that emerged from the ground. Thick clumps of moss clung to every crack and crevice in their buildings, but they had stood the test of time better than could be expected.

The temple complex was less monumental than he’d expected. Everything in Corsythia seemed to be done on the sort of grand scale that had been all but forgotten on Earth since the time of the Pyramids, but the little village here was more humble. Save for the exotic alabaster from which the homes were built, a stone which in this case appeared to be native to the island, there was nothing ostentatious about the settlement.

A row of buildings lined a broad avenue, whose thick stone tiles had held the forest at bay. Most of the homes were no more than a story high, with small courtyards at the front that enclosed garden beds in which a motley assortment of now wild vegetables still sprouted. At the end of the street were the only real buildings of note. One was a rather large three-story affair, with one corner of its roof crumpled in upon itself; if Jasper had to guess, it was the inn for pilgrims his aunt had mentioned. The other was the temple.

The sanctuary was a study in simplicity. The white alabaster tiles of its facade coupled with the smooth, clean lines to provide an image of peaceful serenity. A shallow flight of stairs led up a slight incline, flanked on either side by overgrown gardens that once must have been beautiful. But whatever other architectural details the temple featured were lost on Jasper as he immediately zeroed in on the beings walking around its grounds.

They were women, or perhaps more accurately, parodies of women. Their limbs had been strangely altered, so that their legs and arms no longer matched each other in length. Thus, the temple’s lost priestesses staggered as they walked, their motions stiff and jerky like marionettes.

Their heads lolled to the side, their necks far too long to be natural, so long that on many the heads hung upside down over their shoulder, and their long, tattered hair swayed to and fro with every step they took.

Unlike their bodies, the clothes they wore were unnaturally preserved. Their white dresses flared out into poofy skirts, a style quite unlike the slim tunics and dresses the Djinn usually wore, and were adorned with hundreds of delicate, hand-stitched flowers, all of which were in pristine condition as if untouched by dirt, decay, or the ravage of time. Guess they’ve got a good dry cleaner.

Jasper moved slowly forward to stand next to his aunt, his footfalls mostly muffled by the detritus of fallen needles and moss. He froze as a twig snapped beneath his foot. In an instant, the utukku closest to them whirled around, the jerkiness in their movement suddenly replaced by an almost lightning speed. And for the first time, he saw their faces.

Their eyes were gone, but not simply missing. No, the scratches and scars all around their sockets told the story clearly enough - they had gauged their own eyes out. And sprouting from those empty sockets were thin, thorny vines that waved up and down with a will of their own.

His gasp was suffocated as his aunt clapped her hand over his face, pulling him down into a crouch. Utterly silent, save for the wild beating of their hearts, the two didn’t dare move a muscle until the utukku finally looked away, returning to their aimless meanderings.

“What the hell was that? What happened to those women?” he whispered as loudly as he dared.

Kaṣîtūma shook her head. “How many times must I tell you - no one knows. Now,” she slipped her bag off her shoulder, “we need to draw one of them away from the rest.” She rifled through the pouch, pulling out a small pile of items - a thick piece of meat, two unfamiliar potions, and two sets of what would have looked like handcuffs if not for the long stakes attached to them.

I guess she and S̆arrābī are into some kinky stuff. Jasper might have laughed, but any levity within him died when he caught another glance of the utukku out of the corner of his eyes. Focus, Jasper, he reminded himself. “What are these for?” he whispered.

Reaching down, she pushed just enough of the brown pine needles aside to trace a rough outline in the dirt. “This was the main settlement area, but there was another smaller section of housing to the left.” She pointed back to the forest. “A few hundred feet in that direction. According to the information I purchased, there should be an open area there where we’ll have room to fight. I want you to take these ingredients and set them up, while I try to lure one of the utukku over there.”

“All right, anything special I need to do with these?”

She shook her head. “Just find an open place to set up the meat, pour the potions over it, and plant the shackles in the ground on either side of it. Then hide and wait for me.”

He swept them up into his arms, turning back to the forest, but hesitated. “Are you sure you’re okay? I know I haven’t known you long, but I’m pretty sure S̆arrābī will kill me if I get his beloved wife killed. And frankly,” he added with a wry grin, “the monsters here might just beat him to the punch. Without you, I’m not sure I could even find my way off this island.”

She squeezed his hand hard, offering him an amused smile. “I may not be a match for your mentor, Aphora, but I think you’re underestimating me a bit. I am much more than a blacksmith. Now, go, do as I told you, and wait for me to arrive.”

It would have been a convincing performance if Jasper hadn’t noticed the faint twitch in her cheek and the ever so slight widening of her eyes. She’s afraid. Damn it. He wanted to protest - hell, he wanted off the island right here, right now - but he knew it was no use. As long as she believed that what she was doing might save her daughter’s life, nothing he could say would shake her determination. “Fine, I’ll go set up,” he agreed.