(32) In a Bed, Facing a Window
Stostine’s POV
Everyone in the group seemed to have their share of hardships from the backstories they were given. Glemerr had her time on the streets of Alderstone. Thorn Wielder survived her burned forest. And then there was Platick and the Fortunas. Perhaps the others had their own problems, but I suppose you know your own demons the best.
Mine came in the form of a cackling old woman seeking vengeance on somebody's firstborn, but there's a lot that goes into that. All of which I am glad to explain.
I was born an only child to a loving pair of parents that always stayed by my side. My father was Davin Swordhand and my mother, Melissa Swordhand. The last name came from my father’s family who possessed that last name for the last few generations. Because of this, we never worried about the Name Tax.
Davin was raised as an assistant for his father and worked as a scribe, aiding in political matters. Once grown up, Davin became something of a young statesman. He dealt with civil disputes and helped write smaller edicts and laws that the common folk would hardly recall or interact with. In terms of appearance, Davin was a short, rotund man with a thick mustache, thinning black hair, and a strong jaw.
His face was typically one of curiosity and he preferred keeping himself and others out of trouble in whatever way he could. I would not call my father a coward, however. He was simply non-violent to a fault. He kept himself well-groomed and clean and sought to dispel any sort of argument with conversation. He was, in his own eyes, a representation of how one in a position of power should always act whether it be in the public eye or behind closed doors.
My mother was his perfect counter. To begin with, she was not at all a political figure. Melissa was abandoned inside a temple of the God of Endurance; Ilmater. Her birth parents were never found by the church. And as she grew older, Melissa never tried to search for them. Rather, Melissa was incredibly content with her upbringing as an acolyte.
She had a powerful build with wild, curly red hair cascading over a warm smile. Mom also had a set of golden eyes that made you feel as though bathed in a light whenever she looked at you. She also had a number of scars from every time she never backed down from a fight. But, most importantly to me, she was an excellent story-teller. Sunset made it so I could recall every story Mom ever told me.
My favorite one to hear as a child was her childhood. With no one to claim her, Melissa only had the temple raising her. However, Mom admitted she never felt like anyone was in her corner. Everyone was kind and gave her a moderate amount of attention. However, she would find herself shuffled aside often enough as the priests focused on the ‘promising’ children.
So, Mom took that as a challenge. She would train her body every day after her chores until she was of age. Then, she participated in Ilmater’s Trials of the Body; seven trials that lasted over the course of four days. They were designed to test one’s endurance to its absolute limits. To become a priest of Ilmater you must pass, at minimum, three trials. To become a warrior of Ilmater, you must pass five. You can only conduct these trials once every two years and priests reserve the right to dismiss you at any moment if they believe you cannot handle it.
Most people surrender or get dismissed after the first trial. But Mom was determined to prove herself. So, she took the trials at the same time as all her wonderful peers with no mentor to guide or prepare her for what awaited her. One peer made it through four trials. The furthest of anyone else. It was impressive. Most participants aren’t expected to actually succeed any more than two trials in their first attempt.
However, Mom passed six. She wanted to take the seventh trial, but the head priest dismissed her after she broke her leg from the fifth. To let one die in the Trials would defile what Ilmater's Trials stood for.
But in passing six trials, Mom took an oath to act as a wall strong enough to endure any hardships for the sake of others. She carried out this oath by becoming an adventurer and joining a group that aimed to help others. They would travel for years and even after meeting Davin, Mom journeyed a few more times before slowing down and marrying him after his pleading. Not long after, I was born.
Yet, I was born not with blonde hair and golden eyes but dark brown hair and dull, lifeless green eyes. My skin was blotchy and I was unnaturally thin. It took the midwife several attempts to get me breathing. For the first several weeks, no one was sure if I would survive.
I never got much healthier. I grew at a slow rate and had little to no muscle mass. Instead, I grew up forced to lie in my room so as never to overexert myself.
In a bed, facing a window.
My room was barren, in a word. At least, compared to other children’s rooms. Or so I imagined. I had no toys and I never drew so there were never pictures to put up. Aside from my bed, a thin nightstand, and a small wardrobe with hardly any outfits within, I had no furniture.
The only form of decoration in my room was a set of heavy curtains framing that single window. My parents put it there to keep the sun at bay since the Sunset would worsen my migraines.
Heh. My player has a sense of irony, huh?
But whenever the sun was elsewhere, Mom or Father pulled back the curtains so I could stare outdoors from under my covers. The night sky or cloudy days looked peaceful with Openshaw as the backdrop.
That was my childhood for about twelve years. In a bed, facing a window. I could do nothing but lie there with coughing fits and fevers. On days I felt ‘adventurous,’ I would make it ten feet out of my room before the dizzy spells kicked in. Thankfully, Mom was right there to gently set me back down in my bed without letting me hit the floor.
I never got to leave the town. My parents told me I was born in the capital Agix but we moved soon after when Father was named Townmaster for Openshaw. It was unfortunate since there were no healers to help my illness. Still, it was nice for us since someone like me wouldn’t survive busy streets.
Mom also worked, managing a shrine of Illmater at Openshaw. But since there was nothing to endure in a sleepy town, she was free to spend most time with me in my room. She would set a chair beside my bed, brush my hair, and tell me everything she had ever seen.
The magic. The nature. The people. The fights. The animals. The traveling. The celebrations. The brightness and hope of everything I would never get to experience. It was the only thing I had to look forward to. Mom would get so invested in her own stories, she would forget my condition before even I did.
I remember when the doctors came by. They would visit our little town twice a month to check on the Townmaster’s daughter. They would check my temperature. High. They would ask me questions. “Yes. No. No. No. Sometimes. No. Two meals. Not much. No. Yes. Thank you. Goodbye.” They would prescribe medicines that only made me sleep more.
Then they would speak to my parents as though I was never there. They told them one thing and then repeated it to me but in this dumbed down way that made me feel stupid.
But what I remembered most, was that they would have me grip their hand as tightly as I could. And I tried. I would grip with all my strength, hoping I could make them say ‘ow’ or ‘okay, that’s good’ or anything.
One of the first doctors I remembered thought I faked everything for attention. He took nothing seriously and tried goading me, I suppose, into giving up an act that didn’t exist.
It had the opposite effect. He saw me trying with all my strength as my face turned blue from how much I was holding my breath.
Mom nearly threw him out my window when she saw me like that. Father almost joined in for the first time as he fetched me a glass of water. I never saw that doctor again. A part of me wished I had.
I didn’t know why back then. Looking back on it, maybe it was because he would be the first person to ever challenge me. To treat me as something other than a porcelain kid.
But regardless of what any doctor tried, they came to the same conclusion; major consumption. They kept saying I wouldn’t see the end of the year. Then they’d gawk when I was still alive.
But as I turned twelve, that’s when the delirium set in.
I remembered when I first realized it. Mom told her stories as usual but I had to ask her to stop when she went into gruesome detail. She described how she beheaded two monsters at once by tearing their heads off with magical gauntlets. How the sinew stretched as their flesh tore with a wet ripping sound. It made me squeamish and my coughing fits extreme.
But as I asked her to stop, Father stepped in and asked who I was talking to. I gave him a weird look and then pointed at where Mom was sitting only to realize no one was there. Not even the chair. Then, I felt someone laughing when I remembered Mom was at her shrine that day.
Other times, the doctors would come in and leave their medicine bag at the foot of my bed while talking to my parents. More than once, I got this idea in my head to switch the labels on their medicine vials. Mom told me to do it. Or rather, Mom’s voice told me to do it. Real Mom was furious and concerned when she caught me giggling to myself as I did it.
It only escalated. By the next year, Mom saw me swipe a scalpel from the doctor and wedge it between the floorboards in front of my door, blade up. That’s when she cried for the first time. Just broke down right then and there. It got even worse when I laughed at her face.
It was only for a few seconds. I felt glad I was...I don’t know, stronger than my own mom? When I came into my right mind, I broke down crying beside her. I felt horrible that I was still satisfied with myself.
Then Father came across us and right away joined in with his own tears. We looked pathetic. An entire family crying in their daughter’s near-empty bedroom.
When our eyes were empty, Father went to make us tea as Mom set me down gently in bed. Their bed. They didn’t want me sleeping alone that night.
While Father brought the tea, Mom began a story of hers she had never told me before. And judging by Father’s reaction, he never heard it either. It was the last adventure my Mom and her friends ever had.
The time they fought a hag coven.
A coven is composed of three hags. This one was formed out of two sea hags and a single annis hag. Mom said sea hags were easy to explain. They were creatures that preyed upon virtues such as beauty or hope and despised anyone representing them. But the annis hag? She had trouble describing it. Mom would admit in her stories when she was out of her depth or scared of something but laugh when looking back on it. This time, her fear was the same as how she described back then.
She depicted the annis hag as a mountainous woman with craggy gray skin and misshapen shoulders. Its head, whether magically disguised or her true form, never changed size. It was as though someone skinned the head of a granny and stuck it on a hunched over, ogre-esque mannequin. Complete with fileted skin for clothes and the skulls of children adorning her leathery belt.
The research Mom and her friends did was extensive. Their coven was based in southern Skel but the hags’ influence had begun affecting Leodaav’s northern coast as well.
As stories and personal accounts deduced, the hags targeted children in nearby villages; corrupting them. An annis hag reveled in churning children into little monsters to make those around them despair.
It got so bad that the children were becoming the hags’ private army. They would ruin food supplies, start fires that blazed out of control. Some kids would rig tools or set traps in a way where the adults would start getting injured or think they were cursed with terrible luck.
In many cases, this made the adults desperate and they sought out the nearby hags for help so they could survive the harsh wilderness or have enough food for the winter. But some villages would grow wise and know better than to make deals with hags and they held out.
When villages resisted, the annis hag twisted children until they were convinced into killing their own families. Their village would banish the children and they would run away to join the hags’ servitude as they destroyed the only lives they ever had.
Mom’s group picked up a lead when a northern fishing village was slaughtered by aquatic trolls. Then, after seeing the field of adults crying for some of the children to return, despite the tragedy they created, they got to work.
They dismantled the small army of trolls and other monstrous creatures that obeyed the hags. They expelled the sea hags out from their underwater lairs so the coven was all in one place. Then they struck. Four adventurers versus three hags.
The sea hags weren’t hard to destroy. Mom assumed they were simply assistants or stepping stones to be used. The coven leader was the real monster. Even with her coven gone, the annis hag had powers beyond explanation. She then used the tainted children to her advantage, letting them throw themselves at Mom and her friends. She wanted to force them into killing children.
Instead, the mage of the group put the children to sleep and spared them. But the distraction gave the hag enough time to unleash her largest bargaining chip: One last curse.
Should any of the four harm or attempt to stop the hag’s escape, their greatest values would be forever cast into ruin.
Mom and two of her friends didn’t care. They ran past the sleeping children and struck the hag with all their might. But the fourth adventurer faltered and the hag survived because of it. It escaped and the three of them felt...fine. Completely fine, actually.
Until about the time I was born. That’s when the curse was revealed and why Mom convinced Father to accept a political position far from Agix. That way, we wouldn’t be in the middle of the capital if something happened.
As Mom finished the story, Father was furious. He never knew any of this. Mom’s group never told the truth. But more specifically, he was furious that a curse would strike me rather than Mom or himself. Or anyone else for that matter.
It’s why nothing helped me feel better. Not medicine. Not bed rest. Not even the magical healing Mom or visiting clerics provided. The curse was too strong to dispel. And Mom didn’t want to tell either of us for a singular reason.
Leodaav wanted the secret kept.
The villages of Skel were terrified of that coven. And Leodaav, hearing that a group of ‘their’ people stopped the nightmare, seized on the opportunity. They sang the praises of my mom’s team and used that story as a selling point for the two kingdoms to build an alliance.
It wasn’t the only reason the kingdoms were in an alliance. It simply put a foot in the door for diplomats. Unfortunately, that meant Mom’s group was forbidden from setting the record straight. They couldn’t reveal the hag lived less they be marked as traitors of the kingdom.
Too bad too. Because as the group would later find out, the only way to weaken the curse enough to break it was by first killing the hag who had cast it.
Young Stostine’s POV
Openshaw, the Townmaster’s House
Late Night, Eight Years Ago
Many nights, I’d wake up in a cold sweat, shivering, or with my joints writhing in pain. Every time felt as though fate was randomly choosing what would drive me awake. It happened so many times, there were nights I wouldn’t bother reacting. I would wake up, feel miserable, and force myself to lay still until I passed out again.
Tonight was no different. I woke up twice already. Once in a cold sweat and a second with ‘Mom’ trying to convince me to smother Daddy in his sleep. I was conscious enough to ask Mom if she really told me to do it.
I didn’t need to wake her up to ask. Mom didn’t sleep that night. Both times I opened my eyes, she was their beside me. Just staring up at the ceiling as tears streamed down her face.
But this third time, I didn’t wake up from my disease. Or, I guess I couldn’t call it a disease anymore. Instead, I woke up to the faint sound of clanging metal.
Mom wasn’t in bed anymore. She was kneeling in a corner of the bedroom with a few floorboards stacked neatly beside her as she removed a set of plate mail as delicately as she could.
“Muh. Mom?” I whispered with a dry throat.
Mom flinched before looking up. There was a single candle alight beside her, revealing her reddened, puffy gold eyes from under her matted red, curly hair as she looked at me in misery. She tried forcing herself to smirk. “Hi honey. I’m sorry, did I wake you this time?”
“...” I blinked a couple times and slowly sat up. Their bed was so much more comfier than mine. Maybe because there wasn’t a me-shaped groove in it.
I stared at the things Mom had around her. There was an old backpack with a few supplies, a large shimmering shield propped against the wall behind her, and a set of gauntlets already on her hands. They thrummed with a magical power like she told in her stories.
“...You’re leaving,” I realized aloud. I felt my mind distancing itself from my body.
Mom’s face looked somehow more guilty in that instant as she looked down at her gauntlet. “...Yeah. Yes, I’m leaving.”
“Why?" I paused and remembered the story she told. How the curse would only be broken if. If... “A-Are. Are you gonna kill the hag?”
She wiped her eyes and took a breath. “No. We don’t have the time. We don’t have the help. I don’t even know where it is. I’m sorry.”
I frowned. “Then. Then why are you leaving, Mom?”
“Because it’s my fault.” She took another breath. “I did this. I’m the reason you’re like this. So, I’m gonna fix this. I swear I’ll fix this.”
I sat there trying to understand it all. She wasn’t going to hunt the hag. But she had her armor and magic gloves. Why would she need those?
I looked over to Daddy. He was snoring heavily with a piece of paper tied around his head with twine. His heavy breaths made the paper flap back and forth as it acted like a sleep mask.
I knew Mom wouldn’t tell me. And I knew she wasn’t running away. She never ran away. But if she was leaving for something that wasn’t a fight, why take all her stuff? It didn’t take long for me to think of it. Despite the hag’s delirium and my lack of sleep, I figured it out. Mom wasn’t coming back from wherever she was going.
So, against her wishes, I peeled the blankets off me and weakly slipped my legs out and onto the floor. I stood up and felt a bout of dizziness coat my mind as I blindly walked in the direction of my mom as best I could.
I wasn’t sure if I reached her or not, but it didn’t matter. She scooped me up in a huge embrace and held me there for what seemed like hours.
Her steel gauntlets eased their thrumming and it felt like I was being hugged by warm pillows. They were comfy enough to sleep on.
“I love you, Mom,” My voice was muffled in her shoulder but she understood me anyway.
“I love you too, Stostine,” she returned. “And I promise you. You’ll get to go outside. And I mean, outside. You’ll have friends. You’ll get to see those places I told you about. You’ll get to enjoy all of it. And, I pray, that one day. One day, you’ll get to tell me a story. And I’m going to love every second of it. Okay?”
I nodded, wedging my face further into her shoulder as I wiped tears and snot on her shirt. “Okay...Hey Mom?”
“Yes, sweety?”
“Can you tell me one more story? The Trials of the Body?”
She pulled me back, smiling through her own tears as she gave me a silly look. “Is that ‘cause that’s my favorite story?”
I hummed and nodded, rubbing my eyes with my wrist.
She bit her lip so her laughing wouldn’t wake up Daddy. “Fine. Come on, ya little bean.” She scooped me up and gently set me back down on the bed before kneeling beside the bed and regaling her favorite story.
Stostine’s POV
I was asleep in a matter of minutes. Mom told me that story so many times that I dreamt her telling the entire thing from start to finish. It was the first time in a while I remembered going into a deep sleep.
The feeling did not last long and the weeks following were a living hell. With Mom no longer keeping me company, I was left in my room alone for long periods of time. In a bed, facing a window.
I would feel the pain and sickness building up and overtaking my senses. Mom had used her abilities in the past to help me ignore those symptoms but with her gone, now the symptoms were back. The doctor’s medicine never worked either.
I would see the trees and birds and people off in the distance all going about their day as they always did. Then I would see the children of the town chasing each other or swinging from their parent’s arms.
They were just fine without me. They had no clue about me. Instead, I would sit inside and watch, coughing until the shutters trembled, while they got to enjoy their lives problem free. Maybe they got a runny nose now and then. Oh no! Poor them...
Except, it was thoughts like that which started kicking everything off. I became spiteful. I had these constant, foreign thoughts of how dare they swelling my mind. It would become a roar of whispers that I eventually found myself agreeing with. Sometimes out loud.
Although, how could you blame me? The voices were right after all. The kids got to enjoy their lives in this blissful town. Picking flowers, petting a dog, climbing a tree, running for more than two seconds? I wanted that. I deserved that!
Meanwhile, I had to sit in this empty room in constant duress. They had to know I existed, right? My Father’s the Townmaster for crying out loud. And Mom managed the only shrine for miles! How did none of them even bother coming to ask if I was okay?
‘They don’t want to feel guilty about you,’ ‘Mom’s’ voice would tell me. ‘They’re much happier pretending you’re not there. Cruel little bullies, the lot of them, aren’t they?’
“Yeah. They’re the cruel ones,” I said aloud one day in a huff. “If they ever do show up, I’ll just scream at ‘em.”
I never had the chance. No families came by to offer a home remedy passed down through the generations. No kids knocked on my window to make a new friend. Did no one know about me? Or did they just not care? No. Of course they didn’t. Why would they? Why should they care about a kid they never knew?
Fine then. I could have fun too. I can make my own fun. And I did just that. I played make-believe in a bed, facing a window. I was pretty good at it too. I came up with voices and accents for all those idiots. I would make up random, fun moments and problems they would have to deal with! I would imagine a new one every hour. Every hour of every day. Every day, for every week! It was all I did since no one was there to stop me.
And with each new problem, I stretched them to their absolute best. Each one more out of touch from sanity than the last, but I didn’t mind. Probably because I was finally having my own fun! For example, I dreamt of bears ransacking their homes for honey. Or the nearby river growing so wide it made their homes stick out like Lilypads. Or all their food turning to gross mush like they deserved! Or all of them going mad and eating each other! Or the children going into anarchy! A horde of mindless ogres smashing them and their belongings to a bloody pulp! Or their heads getting torn off by a rampaging troll as their precious little houses burnt to the ground! I would envision each of them plotting to storm into my house, gut my useless Father, rip me from my bed and deliver me to Auntie so I could finally be free! I WOULD ENVISION AUNTIE CRAWLING OUT OF THE GROUND AND CACKLING AS SHE TORE THE HEADS FROM THE CHILDREN’S NECKS TO ADD TO HER BEAUTIFUL BELT! I COULD HELP AUNTIE MAKE HER BELT PRETTIER! MAYBE SHe’d make me a belt of my neighbor’s skulls so that. I. Could. Have. A matching. Belt...
...
I would start crying myself to sleep when “Mom’s” voice became more demanding. She would go from pushing me to try things to demanding I obey her orders.
...Otherwise, Auntie would be quite displeased...
And when I still refused? That’s when the voice didn’t bother pretending to be Mom anymore. It just used my voice. My voices.
At random times, I would blink and see the world in a different shade. I would feel excited and happy, deserving of everything, furious and strong, sadistically cruel. Different voices would come at me suddenly, forcing me to think or behave entirely different from myself. Yet I agreed with everything they said. And Father was the only one to care for me. To try and stop me.
Not that it changed anything. I was too weak to act on any of those voices. There would be times I would step out of bed and quickly collapse from overexertion from getting excitable. But it still got worse.
By week three, my skin grew slick and blue like a drowning corpse and my hair started falling out in clumps. I would be shaken out of stupors by Father who told me I had been giggling and rocking myself unresponsively.
Eventually, it reached its peak. I couldn’t sleep anymore. I was in that headspace where I no longer felt tired despite being exhausted. It wasn’t Mom’s voice talking to me anymore, nor my own. It was her’s. Auntie’s voice. I knew her name was Auntie. She and my other voices kept saying it. My mind. Kept. Slipping, and I knew I wasn’t falling asleep! Yet I kept drifting in and out of consciousness.
I would blink and suddenly I tore apart the pillow on my bed. I would blink and the few clothes I owned were thrown on the floor. I would blink and the floor was slick with the froth of the sea. I would blink and pieces of seaweed replaced the few clumps of hair I had left. I would rub at my eye and feel the socket sink inward as teeth pulled away from one another like magnets.
I heard Father approach the door and I stared up in anticipation. I wanted him to take one look at me and prove that all of this was all in my head. That I wasn’t growing seaweed or my room wasn’t becoming a swamp.
I watched Father open the door, take one step in, and slip on the seawater. A small splash accompanied him and instincts made me cackle at his misfortune.
He grabbed at the edge of my bed and dragged himself up face-to-face with me and screamed at the visage of his daughter. An ugly, hag of a daughter as I tried forcing my claw down his throat to feel his still beating heart and feel the crushing despair of how much he FAILED TO SAVE HIS FUCKING DAUGHTER!
It wasn’t hard for Father to push me off. I was shunted back on the bed and as I flailed and tumbled off the opposite side and felt my back splash into the water. Then, faster than I ever moved in my life, I rolled onto all fours and scurried along the wet floor like a cockroach. I ducked under my bed and popped my head out the other side in time to watch Father slam the door and bar it from outside.
My consciousness started flashing as Auntie cackled in glee at what I had become. I cackled with her. Everything felt amazing! I moved and jumped with a speed I had never had in my life. So what if I had gills splitting open along the sides of my neck?! Who cared if my gorgeous claws tore up the floor and drained the sea water out of my room?!
Quiet town, huh? Apparently not quiet enough to ever pay me a visit! How’s about I pay them a visit? They’ll like a visit! If I didn’t get to enjoy the quiet, WHY SHOULD THEY?!
I jumped up on my bed with all fours, ripping the sheets with vicious euphoria. Then I looked up at my window and paused.
I was in a bed, facing a window. Like every day of my miserable life. Not anymore! Here’s what I think of this fucking window!
Like a rabid dog, I ran on misshapen claws before lunging at that window like it was my prey. I didn’t even bother throwing my hands at it to smash it. I simply barreled through head first, the glass shattering by impact as I flew out in a crash!
The whipping wind and rain pelted me as I belly flopped against the wet dirt, a crude imprint stamped onto the ground. I unstuck myself from the muck and launched myself on all limbs before screaming out in a frenzy; Auntie cackling like a madwoman in my mind.
‘Very good, my child,’ she told me. ‘Show this pitiful dump some interest for once in their lives. Oooooh~ Maybe start with your dear mother’s shrine?’
Yes. YES! The shrine! I mean, it’s not like Ilmater did anything for me. These morons don't deserve hope. That’s an easy fix...
I knew where the shrine was. Even without seeing it, Mom described where it was plenty of times. So with a direction ready, I whipped around and rushed off. Or at least tried to.
In reality, I only made it a few steps before a maroon-colored hand the size of a bear slammed into my back and pinned me to the earth.
I shrieked, twisting and writhing for any solution to get free. When all five seconds of that failed, I watched a boot step towards me just out of reach of my claws.
The voice that paired with that boot let out a disgruntled sound. “Urgh, already? So much for being punctual. Sorry Mel.”
The giant hand’s fingers tightened around me like a cage and lifted me out of the mud. I then watched this woman step up and pull out vials from a satchel before pouring over my scalp like conditioner.
Without warning, agony drilled into my scalp and everywhere this liquid made contact. I screeched out in agony, twisting in desperation to get away. I dislocated bones, screamed words I knew were probably swears, and bit into my lip in hopes of getting the blood to dilute the liquid but nothing worked. The pain was something I had never experienced but with each vial dumped on me, it became harder to hear Auntie’s commands or threats of her own. She was shut out.
I later learned the burning liquid wasn’t hot at all. It was holy water Mom had made and given to her former adventuring companion, and my new caretaker, Siora.
She had the giant hand carry me back inside and set me down on a couch in front of the fireplace as she explained everything to Father. He refused to leave the corner of the room as he watched me with a fireplace poker in his trembling hands.
I passed out not too long after that. I didn’t know what was said but apparently Siora convinced Father to grant her a home in Openshaw.
Over the next week, Siora took Mom’s place in my room. She sat at my bedside and helped fight off every manic episode or transformation I had. She tried easing my nerves too but we realized very quickly she was a terrible storyteller.
So instead, Siora would talk about herself at my request. She was the first elf I had ever met. My parents, most of my doctors, and the stray visitors were mostly humans with a couple of Dwarves and a single gnome now and then. So I was eager to meet someone new.
Siora was born to a pair of simple parents who were lower class artisans. Her life, according to her, would have been boring and consumed with weaving shawls and blankets had she not come across her grandfather’s spellbook. She practiced magic in secret and by the time her parents found out, so too did Agix’s Arcane Academy.
She was accepted after an evaluation and moved into the academy while her parents were too scared to ever visit the capital. After all, the war against the elven kingdom was still going on. Siora took her acceptance gleefully, however, and like Mom she reveled in proving those around her wrong.
Siora also knew dozens of spells and would be glad to demonstrate so many of them to me. She assured me she had spells for fighting the monsters from Mom’s stories but she would only show me her safer spells. Still, they were amazing. The large spectral hand that held me, an invisible servant that obeyed Siora’s thoughts, a large disk that could carry me and my entire bed like nothing.
She even had a spell that allowed people to fly. And she used it on me once! I was able to move around my room without my body stopping me. Siora was delighted to watch too but she couldn’t let me leave my room.
A few nights later, however, everything stopped. We were in the middle of Siora telling me about some of her days at the Academy when, without warning, I felt numb. All my aches and pains, the different personalities, her voice. All lifted from me like a thick blanket. I then felt my body grow weary and tired as an unstoppable exhaustion overpowered me. I lulled in one direction and the next, watching as Siora reached out at me.
I took her hand, muttering something as I lay in a bed, facing a window.
My head landed against my pillow and I drifted off in bliss. I didn’t know why back then, but that was the best sleep I had in my life.
And the night my mom was gone forever.
Siora the Mage’s POV
Openshaw, the Townmaster’s House
Three Days Later
I trudged my way through the door, letting a Mage Hand lazily flick it closed, and made my way to the dining room table. Once I was there, I dumped a pile of books and scrolls out in a disorganized fashion and fell into a chair to take a deep, exhausted breath.
I shook my head along with my hands for a moment before heavily slapping myself across the face two times in quick succession. Then, tugging some string off my blouse and a chip of wood from the table, I made a few gestures before summoning an Unseen Servant at my side.
“Make me a coffee,” I said while rubbing my eyes.
It moved towards the kitchen as I pulled my spellbook in front of me. Next, to be extra lazy, I resummoned my Mage Hand and had it open the book while I readied the spell scrolls.
I should have gotten these spells the moment we set out against that coven. Sadly, fifteen-ish years later and I’m only now doing this. Brilliant.
There were two spell scrolls I was referring to; Remove Curse and Protection From Evil and Good. Back when we took on the hags, Melissa handled these spells. I focused on evocation. You know, fireballs and the like.
I then turned my attention to the other books and piles of paper I dumped. Since I was a long way from Agix, the Academy wouldn’t let me check out too many books. It took a lot to convince them to send me this much. I had to call a favor on the Headmistress’s husband.
When he heard it was to solve a hag’s curse, he championed the request. But due to plenty of other problems, there were only three books he’d send me. Those and piles of in-depth notes he copied for me.
Thank you Tek, I silently praised. Crazy little freak.
I began transcribing Protection first. Neither of these spells would rid Stostine of her curse. If it was that easy, none of this would have ever happened. But we never thought of using these spells to diminish the effects. If anything, maybe I could ease Stostine’s symptoms. Maybe enough for her to take a nice walk outside?
I got lost in my work. An hour passed in seconds as I waited on the ink to dry for the first spell. By the time I looked up, I felt the Unseen Servant vanish and the coffee I asked it to make was almost cold.
Grumbling, I started chugging my coffee at the same time as a doorknob started fumbling. I didn’t even flinch when the violent slam of the master bedroom door against the wall echoed throughout the Swordhand house.
I put my now empty cup down and licked the coffee off my lips as sloppy footsteps came down the hall. And then fingers wrapped around the corner of the wall. Finally, one hungover Townmaster dragged himself into the main room with his other hand nursing his face.
He let out this low, tired moan of pain that only true blackout drinkers could relate to while carrying himself to the kitchen.
I scoffed and tossed the Protection scroll away from me. “Good morning,” I said extra loudly to prick at Davin’s brain. “Lemme guess, finally ran out of booze in your personal keg?”
His moan almost became a growl for a second. Although, that would require a spine, so obviously it meant nothing.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” I decided as I unfurled the Remove Curse scroll.
That made Davin pause from his march and force himself to look at me. Big mistake since I made sure to sit where the sun would be right over my shoulder. And yes, I made sure that window was open too.
“F-For your information,” Davin fought on to make his point. “I am only halfway through that keg.”
“Woah,” I hummed sarcastically. He says that as though it’s impressive.
He looked away from me and rubbed at his eyes. Then, he stared distantly at Stostine’s door. “How is she?”
“Still asleep,” I answered normally. “I checked before I got started. The seaweed stopped growing out of her head and her breathing’s steady. But you would know that if you checked for yourself.”
I watched that phrase tremble down Davin’s spine. So I backed off. My point was made.
“I. I...I don’t have any right.” He shook his head. “I hurt her. And every time she gets unwieldy, I—”
“Enough,” I cut in, setting my quill back in its inkwell. I wasn’t going to finish this next spell anyway with this fool distracting me. “I was there, remember? Don’t reexplain it to me.”
Davin shrunk in on himself. “Apologies..."
I leaned back in my chair and propped an elbow over the back of it. “That doesn’t make you any less her father. I’ll commend you for one thing; most regular parents wouldn’t bother living in the same house as their cursed daughter. You at least have that much tact.”
Davin gave a hollow laugh. “...Melissa would do better. She’d probably never leave Stostine’s side.”
“Yes, well,” I mused. “That’s more than either of us, I suppose. I’m not that brave.”
As I stifled a yawn and stared down at my empty cup, Davin put on a strained smile. “Really? I thought elves didn’t sleep.”
“We still get tired,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “And I’d get my four hours more peacefully if I had..." I bit my tongue. No, I thought. I can’t ask Davin to watch Stostine. He wouldn’t last if something happened. Not his fault, either.
Hungover or not, Davin read the context. He was guiltstriken as he stared down at the floor and I tried finding the right words to snap either of us out of it.
When I failed, Davin cleared his throat. “I was planning on making some tea. Would, erm, you like some? Siora?”
I rubbed my temple. Davin wasn’t the only one that drank last night. And while I could hold mine much better, a headache was coming on. “I would, yes.”
Davin nodded and stood up as straight as he could and forced his feet to carry him to the kitchen. But the moment he was around the bend—
Crash! “Ahhh! oops...”
Davin scrambled back into view as he and I stared in surprise at one another. Then at the source of the sound. Then back again.
“Was that from Stostine’s room?!” Davin practically screamed.
I opened my mouth but all that came out was sass. “No, it was the rats. They adopted her— We heard the same thing, moron!”
Ignoring him, I scooped my spellbook and marched up to Stostine’s door. Once he snapped out of it, Davin followed behind and let his new resident wizard take the lead.
Huh. Never thought I’d take lead on anything.
I plucked a vial of holy water off the table beside Stostine’s door. Then, I opened the door and pulled back my arm, ready to throw it at—
A golden haired child with equally golden eyes.
“AH! Si-Siora! Daddy! I’m so sorry!” The girl was sitting on her knees next to the empty bed, picking up pieces of glass until we came in. The glass was from a vase of flowers Davin got for his daughter. He had me bring them in since he was still too scared to do it. I had to water them too.
But the girl I didn’t recognize. Not at first. And when she noticed, the girl shied away from our expressions. “I-I didn’t mean to! I can clean it up, I promise! Um...Are you mad?”
I stood there, locked in place. The child was wearing Stostine’s nightgown with Stostine’s blanket partially over her leg, but I couldn’t recognize her.
When we still didn’t answer, we watched the thin girl tear up. It was heartbreaking to watch if it wasn’t so confusing. Who was this?
She looked nothing like Stostine. She had a full head of hair that wasn’t her usual brunette. She had gold eyes instead of green, and she wasn’t emaciated. Not sickly either. I was here seven hours ago and this girl wasn’t.
This isn’t possible. I blinked a few times as Davin stepped past me and into the room. I stepped back, clutching the holy water in my hands. I didn’t know how to react to this.
“Sto...Stostine?” He brought up his hands but hesitated to do anything else.
“Um. Yes Daddy?” The girl asked mousily. She looked between him and the glass. “I’m sorry for breaking it.”
“You. You broke it?” He noticed a glass shard still in her hand and stiffened up. He probably thought she was gonna stab at him.
“Mm-hmm.” Stostine nodded and stared back down. It was a collection of blue and red flowers. Stostine’s favorite colors, I was told. “I thought they were pretty so I went to pull one out. But I knocked over the glass and it broke. I didn’t mean to.”
Davin took a really slow breath and reached for Stostine’s hand. When the girl didn’t react, Davin gently took the glass shard and flicked it away back to the floor.
Then Davin reached for his daughter’s hair. Careful as not to hurt her, he pinched a small lock of it and gave it a light tug. The hair was firmly in place. It didn’t come out.
“A-Ar-Are you okay?” He asked, crouching down to be at eye level with her. He didn’t care that he was close to cutting his feet on the shards.
Stostine opened her mouth to answer but then she thought about it. “U-Uh. I. I think so. It..." Then, as if she just realized it, her face lit up. “Yeah. I’m okay! It doesn’t hurt anymore.”
Davin stared for a second or two longer before he suddenly started sniveling. “...Stostine!”
He pulled her in a tight embrace, crying like a fool as Stostine’s eyes darted in every direction. She was trying to register what was going on.
I had Mage Hand return the holy water back to the table in the hall and stepped in to admire the moment. I let the two take as much time as they needed before gently clearing my throat.
“Um. Stostine?” I watched her spot me over her father’s trembling frame. “What happened to you?”
“ I...um. I don’t know?” She said awkwardly. “I remember my head hitting the pillow and then...I think I had a dream? There was this. A, um. I think it was a church? And then a garden. And...”
She paused and looked back and forth for a second before her eyes focused in no certain direction.
“Oh. O-Oh, right. Hi Tabs! No, Tab. Tabbri...Huh? Tabs—err...Oh! Okay, yes, that! I remember now!”
Davin stopped hugging his daughter and stared at her. “Stostine? What was that?”
“Oh, the voice from my dream! He. Erm, she. Um...they are really nice! They got rid of the bad voices!”
Stostine stopped hugging her father and, without prompt, stood up just fine on her own. Further astounding us.
“Uh, Ms. Siora? Tabs said I need to show you something. And that you could help.”
“Help?” I frowned. “Help with what? And, I’m sorry. How did this ‘Tabs’ speak with you just now?”
“Uh. Huh. I-I guess only I can hear them. But! But watch this!”
Stostine rubbed her hands together and held them out, suddenly giddy with excitement. “Okay! Here goes! Zilla-ren!”
I blinked at the words. And then was further confused when a flame for a candle weakly sputtered to life in Stostine’s hands.
I recognized it immediately. Fire Bolt. An evocation cantrip apprentices are taught at the Academy. And it was the verbal components that I was taught at the Academy more than fifty years ago. They had since transitioned to a different arcane script.
It would also take most students the span of a month to be taught the glyphs and create a flame in their hands. Stostine did it in five seconds.
I placed a hand over my open mouth. “That’s something,” I muttered as several alarms went off in my mind.
“What the—?!” Davin clawed his way back to his feet and used me as a shield. “Siora? What’s causing that? Is Stostine okay? Will she be okay?”
“Huh?” Stostine stared down at it and pouted. “I think...Wasn’t this bigger in the dream?”
I took all of this in and nodded slightly to myself. “This...Admittedly, I don't know what this is.” I turned to him and began speaking in Elvish so Stostine wouldn’t understand.
“Melissa did something neither of us have experience with. And...I’m going to be honest. It looks like the original problem’s been solved. But now we got a new problem.”
“New problem?” His voice broke as he let that slip out in Common. Stostine lost her attention on the tiny flame as she looked up at us.
I ignored that and kept speaking in Elven. “Not yet, at least. But I hope I don’t need to remind you how they react to people with a natural talent for magic.”
Realization spread across Davin’s face as he took in a shaky breath.
“What are you two talking about?” Stostine asked, utterly lost.
“We. Are. Talking. Abouuuut~” I started in Common, enunciating each word to sound ‘peppy’ and like nothing was wrong. “How. I. Caaaan be your teacher! Yaaaay~”
Upbeat was never a good look for me. Actual social people would be able to tell right away. However, when Stostine heard that, she was swept up in the prospects of it all.
“Wait, really?! You’re gonna teach me?! I get to learn magic?!”
“You’re teaching her?!” Davin asked in Elvish. “But. But you just said—”
“I know what I said,” I spat back in Elvish while still smiling at the child. “But untamed magic is—” I bit my lip and forced myself to speak to Stostine. “We will! That is, once we’re sure you’re healthy. And I’ll warn you, the start of it is puh-retty dull.”
Dull for her, maybe, I imagined. But for me, this is gonna be so bizarre.
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Seems I was right on the type of class Stostine would be but was nowhere near on her race. Truly enjoyed learning more about her past and can't wait to see what you wrote about Platick.
And suddenly..... a lot of stuff makes sense.
Stunning work as always! I feel pretty bad for Stostine now, but that was a superb backstory!
Frog
Another great chapter, as usual.:D