Riven Wight

To Cure a Curse

@POOHEAD189

Sorry about the wait!

To Cure a Curse

Thea gave an approving nod of Calanon’s accepting smile, and looked rather unfazed when he mentioned seeing the Northern Pass.
Rayadell stood and pushed her bowl slightly to the side to bend over the map. She pulled it slightly closer to her. She had visited the range before, long ago, though only in passing of their outskirts. Her eyes trailed the various towns and trails marked on the map, trying to decide on the quickest route to the mountains.
Her attention snapped to Calanon when he stood, a hand instinctively reaching for her staff. But he only excused himself.
“Of course!” Thea gave him a warm smile. “If Merek hasn’t already managed to lead him there.” She glanced to the back door where her husband had earlier departed. “Hopefully he’s found some suitable feed.”
Rayadell mimicked his second bow to her, her upper body dipping forward ever so slightly. Instead of answering him, she only nodded.
It’ll be interesting, no doubt there. She waited for him to leave before turning back to the map. She tried to quickly commit the various trails and towns along the way to memory as Thea took her guest’s bowls and began washing them in a basin.
“Our sources indicate you’re quite talented with fire. Is that correct?” Thea asked, wiping her hands dry on an old hand towel and turning toward Rayadell.
The Elagon finally tore her attention from the map. She stared at Thea for a short second before her words fully registered. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she wondered, not for the first time, exactly how much the couple knew about their hired hands.
All the same, Rayadell nodded.
“Could I request your help in warming some water for Calanon? And you’re quite welcome to bathe as well, if you so wish.”
Rayadell shook her head at the offer. “I’m fine, but thanks.” Her wings ached to stretch, but she had no intention of doing so here. Though the Carishes may already have known, she was not willing to take that risk. They could wait for the night, once the household had fallen asleep. “But I’ll help with the water,” she added, realizing she had not addressed the woman’s request.
Rayadell carefully rolled the map up. Leaving it on the table and grabbing her staff, she followed Thea into the main room.
She quickly glanced around, her eyes lingering on the couple doors to the side of the room, and a hall leading further into the house.
“Your daughter.” Rayadell glanced to Thea as the woman paused at the front door. As honest as the two seemed, she wanted to see the girl for herself, to validate their story as much as she could. “Have you moved her to a healer’s, or does she still reside here?”
The sorrow that lurked in the depths of Thea’s gaze came to the forefront. “She’s here.” She nodded toward the hall, then stepped toward it, Rayadell in her shadow.
Thea led the way to a room toward the back of the hall and stopped. “Please,” she began in a whisper, “try to not disturb her.”
Rayadell nodded silently as Thea slowly opened the door. Though the curtains were drawn, within the dim light of the fading sun filtering through, Rayadell easily made out a small lump wrapped in blankets atop a small bed.
She glanced to Thea, waited for the woman’s nod of approval, then entered. She went to the bed, her steps quiet, and bent down near the head of it.
A girl of about thirteen laid there, her breathing ragged. Sweat glistened on her deathly pale forehead, her long dark curls plastered to her sunken face. Without opening her eyes, the girl shuddered in her sleep, then turned away from Rayadell with a moan.
With a soft sigh and her proof gained, Rayadell stood and returned to where Thea waited.
“I’ll do everything in my power to see that she becomes well,” Rayadell said as Thea closed the door, then followed her to help draw and heat some water.

Deleted

Izzy watched Trevor squint, reminding her that he could not see as well in the dimness of the farmhouse as she could. When his eyes finally seemed to adjust to the new lighting and his gaze settled on her, she offered him a small smile in greeting.
“That’s the least of my worries,” she muttered at his comment about squatting. She took a deep breath at his question, then told him everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.
Finishing her tale, she placed her head in her hands from where she had since sat once again against the wall, her legs crossed beneath her.
“If the hunter hadn’t come, it would’ve just been someone else. Will be someone else the next time.” Izzy shook her head and ran a hand through the lose portion of her hair. “And that’s what I saved. What...” she swallowed hard, her voice soft as she continued, “what I could become.” She raised her head, not looking at anything in particular. “I don’t know what to do, Trevor. It’d be nice to just wake up and have this all be a nightmare, but that isn’t going to happen.”

Deleted

As soon as she hung up with Trevor, Izzy went through the house to the front door. The gaps in the boards of the windows let beams of sunlight in, the golden streams making millions of dust motes glitter and turning portions of the house into a minefield for her. The front door was barred from the inside. To make his entrance a bit easier than crawling through a window, she set to work removing the few boards keeping the door closed.
With the boards made short work of, she could only wait. Finding a shadowy space, she sat and leaned her back against the wall. A physical and emotional weariness hung over her, and she found herself dozing slightly, only to be startled awake by the gruesome images that plagued her mind.
When a knock came on the door, making the whole house creak, she startled to alertness and jumped to her feet. She breathed a sigh of relief at Trevor’s voice.
“I’m here,” she called back to him, carefully moving to the side of the room to avoid bursting into flames when he opened the door. “Come in.”

Deleted

When Trevor answered, Izzy gave a relieved sigh. Though it had not been long since she had heard his voice, it was good to know he was, at least for now, still safe.
She gave a humorless chuckle at his second question, and shook her head. “No,” she breathed. “It... it’s kinda a long story.” She paused, debating on if she dared ask him to meet her. But with the poor connection, the call could drop at any moment. “And service out here sucks. Could...” She took another unsteady breath. “Would you be willing to meet me? But not at the school,” she added hastily. “I know it’s unfair of me to ask you, after everything, but...” She gave a heavy exhale. “I need you, Trevor. You and that brilliant brain of yours.”

Mystic Orphanage (Aristocles and Siaya Dragalorn)

Seaella’s steps faltered for half a heartbeat.
“An orphanage?” she interrupted. Of all places, they had managed to stumble upon an orphanage? She did not offer Serapis her name, instead glancing back to the two boys behind them. The female dracon hurried back down the hall toward them at a near run with two other women, one rather stout with her hair pulled back, and the other tall with dark curly hair.
It had taken Thayva only a moment to collect two of the few staff knowledgeable in healing magic, the three catching up with the others before they reached the infirmary, joining the back of the group.
Seaella leaned the bow and staff against the wall beside the bed Serapis laid Valera on. She gathered her sister’s cloak from him, dropping it in a wet heap at the floor by the weapons. Forgetting about the one weighing down her own shoulders, the garment left a trail of drips in her wake.
“What’s going on, Serapis?” the taller of the women asked as the shorter went to the opposite side of the bed.
Thayva looked to Aurelian when he addressed her. When he finished, she glanced between the two boys, her lips pursed together.
“Return to your beds, boys,” she answered, her voice stern, but not unkind. “We have something more pressing right now to handle than a broken curfew.”
Nick nodded and slowly headed toward the door, glancing back at the stout woman as she placed two fingers aglow with a white light to Valera’s temple.
Seaella tried to keep an eye on everything at once, but her head began to pound with the effort, and she felt suddenly exhausted. But she had to make sure Valera was okay.

Deleted

Izzy took a deep breath, then reached slowly into her pocket and pulled out her phone. She turned it on, using the short time it took to shove the sandwich fixings back in the bag. If nothing else, at the very least, she needed someone as levelheaded as Trevor. Though, she would certainly have a fair bit of explaining to do.
Ignoring any messages or missed calls she may have gotten, she held the phone up. Lacking service in the remains of the basement, she cautiously checked the intensity of the sun beyond the door above her. Finding what looked like the old kitchen relatively shady, she jumped up onto the main floor, careful to avoid any rays of sunlight filtering in between the boards.
Once her phone showed she had service, she skipped texting and dialed Trevor's number, unsure what kind of response she would get from him, or, even, if he would pick up.

Mystic Orphanage (Aristocles and Siaya Dragalorn)

Nick skidded to a halt when he heard Serapis’ voice, but only paused long enough to make sure the dracons were coming down the hall.
At the prospect of someone at the door, in this weather, Thayva hurried behind her husband and Nick. At the door, she placed a gentle hand on Nick’s shoulders when he went to open it. She shook her head, and guided him behind her, letting Serapis open the door.

* * *

Seaella’s small body shook with sobs, the tears running down her cheeks only mingling with the drops of water already plastering her short hair to her face. She leaned her weight against the door, trying to steady herself for another round of knocking.
She gave a surprised shout when the door pulled inward, momentarily knocking her off balance. But she hopped quickly to her feet, her free hand going to the dagger at her belt. Her eyes widened as she took in the two beings standing directly in the doorway. Though neither lizardfolk nor dragons, they bore a resemblance to both, a mix she had never before seen in her short life. But, peeking out from behind the female of them, was a male elf who looked around Valera’s age, his eyes wide in surprise. The two locked gazes for a fraction of a second.
Not knowing what else to do, and with her sister in desperate need of care, Seaella quickly collected her bow and Valera’s staff, her eyes never leaving the dracons. Though the staff was much taller than her, she leaned it against a shoulder, wondering if she could use it if these two odd beings ended up being foe instead of friend.
Valera moaned softly, her body still limp, as Serapis helped her inside, her silvery-green cloak dripping with rainwater.
“Get her to the infirmary,” Thayva told Serapis, Seaella following at their side, careful to not let her sister or the dracon out of her sight. “I’ll get the healers.” With that, she turned and hurried down the hall to where the staff had gathered.
“Who are you?” Seaella demanded of Serapis, her voice frantic. She flinched as another peal of thunder rumbled through the house. She glanced behind her as she noticed the elf-boy following them.

Deleted

Outside the school, Izzy leaned against the rough bricks of the wall beside the front door. She tried unsuccessfully to calm herself, to push the gory image of Guillotine Cutter from her mind, to stop the echoing loop of Cerasus’ last words in her head.
She needed to find somewhere for the day, somewhere away from Cerasus, from the madness surrounding her. Away from Guillotine’s lifeless body, and the smell of his blood.
With dawn approaching, Izzy pushed shakily from the wall, swallowing hard against her panicked, rapid breaths, and ran from the school. There were a few old farmhouses, now long abandoned, further out from the town. Even if they were not as well boarded up as the school, she was sure she could find at least a corner untouched by the sun.
In no time, she found one of the abandoned farms. Though the two-story home was choked by overgrown weeds and ivy, its windows boarded up in a hasty mess and covered in graffiti, Izzy picked it out easily.
As the first fiery colors of the sun began to paint the horizon, she squeezed in through a broken window she assumed some vandals had torn the boards from.
The rank smell of mold and mildew greeted her, mingled with the stale scent of cigarette smoke. The floor beneath a threadbare carpet creaked loudly from her weight as she stepped fully into what may have once been a living room. She stopped, listening for signs of anything living. She heard only the creaks her presence had sent through the house, and the faint sound of something dripping on the upper level.
She moved through the house, searching for what she thought would be the darkest place. Finding a basement behind an old, decrepit door, the steps between metal railing nearly all rotted away, she jumped down into the room below, closing the door behind her. Made of concrete, it had only a single window large enough for someone thin to squeeze through, its glass blacked out by boards on the outside.
Izzy ignored the many spider webs and their occupants strewn through the room. A few rows of storage racks took up one end, a few forgotten glass containers resting among yet more webs.
Sure she would be safe from the sun, and not be found in the unlikely event someone came to investigate the old house, Izzy went to the side opposite the racks and sunk heavily to the filthy floor, her grocery sack falling beside her. With a shaky sob, she placed her face in her palms. No matter how hard she tried to push it away, the image of Guillotine Cutter with Cerasus bent over him, covered in crimson, was burned into her brain and flashed in the darkness behind her eyelids. That was the monster she allowed to return to power, all so she could become human again. The monster she feared she would become from not becoming human. If he had not fed on Cutter, it would have been someone else. And there was no telling who would fall to Cerasus’ hunger next time. Perhaps someone she knew, someone she loved.
Even if she had prevented Cerasus’ return, it would have been a lose-lose situation for her.
Her own hunger had only grown, excited by the scent of what it desired. She had known, deep down, the truth of what Cerasus had said, only shoving it as far from her mind as possible. But now, she would have to face it, one way or another. She did not know how long she could go without blood, or what factors influenced it. And she had spilled plenty of her own to save Trevor. She would have to do something to satisfy it, if only long enough for her to become a human again.
She let out a long, slow breath and leaned back against the wall behind her. She glanced over to her grocery bag.
It wouldn’t hurt to try. Slowly, with trembling hands, she started pulling out the bag’s contents, which included a couple paper plates and a butter knife for the mostly empty jar of mayo she had grabbed. Taking her time to hopefully let the normalcy of the actions bring some sort of unstable calm, she made herself a sandwich. Wiping the butter knife off on a second plate, she ate it as slowly as she had made it, hoping beyond hope that it would dilute the hunger, if even only fractionally.

To Cure a Curse

Thea’s grateful smile only deepened at Calanon’s gesture with his bowl.
Rayadell glanced to him at Merek’s questions, waiting along with the man for Calanon’s answer. An elk? He had a steed? The corners of her mouth pulled down slightly when he confirmed the Elk’s existence. This could pose an issue.
Merek nodded as Calanon spoke, bringing is bowl to the counter and setting it there for washing.
“Nonsense!” Thea scolded Calanon's statement about sleeping in the stables, a look of offence at the mere suggestion crossing her face. “If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll give you the bedding most in need of washing. Or, if you wish, it would be no problem to draw a bath for you.”
Rayadell glanced up as Merek exited through the back door, presumably to lead the elk to his bed for the night.
When the Elf requested a second helping, Thea gladly dished more out for him before returning to finish up her own bowl.
“Yes, yes. Of course.” Thea nodded at Calanon's question, Rayadell’s gaze turning to her. The woman placed her spoon down, the majority of her food eaten. “The more you know, the better. It’s said it was created by the greatest Healers our world has ever seen: the Medella Latrones. Their story is not one well known. Not long after the dawn of time, they were a tight-knit band who lived in the coldest regions to discourage outsiders from seeking them out, because their powers went well beyond healing. But they refused to do anything else.
“They had one objective: create something that could cure even the worst ailments, something they could distribute so our world could be free of illnesses and curses.” Thea gave a sad sigh. “Alas, their end came in a bloody war, but not before they succeeded. They managed to create a single talisman that worked for their cause.
“Worried it would be destroyed out of man's fear of them and what they could do, their leader took the talisman and locked it in ice deep in a cave in the mountains.” She shook her head dismally. “Sadly, there are far too many rumors about what it looks like to narrow it down, and even more as to whether or not there are remaining wards or guardians. That will be up to you to discover, I’m afraid. Though I doubt you need to be told, expect anything, and keep a cautious eye out.”
“You know the specific mountain where the cave is located?” Rayadell’s brows rose slightly.
“We believe so, yes.” Thea rose from her seat and went to the side of the counter. She retrieved a large piece of parchment rolled into a tube. Returning to the table, she moved her bowl aside and unrolled the tube, revealing a fairly detailed map. She turned it so its wording faced her guests.
“This is us.” Thea placed a finger on the town labeled ‘Caldavail.’ “We believe the talisman is located about here.” She moved her finger to a broken mountain range surrounding another settlement. One of the peaks had been circled in a familiar red ink. Above it, written in the same hand as the letter Rayadell had received, were the words, ‘Glacialis Montis.’ “Ice Mountain,” she translated. “The entire area’s a winter wonderland, between frozen wastelands and snow-capped mountains. Other than the few towns and cities that have managed to survive out there, of course.”