Chapter 49: Abolition

After I leave and reach out into the forest, I ponder the changes in myself. I no longer numb my mind before I kill people. If anything, I enjoyed the act, and the thought of killing more of the disgusting filth that harmed Joan fills me with a primal satisfaction. This change disturbs me.

These thoughts swirl in my mind before Deluge says, “Did you notice what caused the white mark down Joan’s side?”

I grit my teeth and ball my hands into fists as I think, “Yes. Those torturers.”

Deluge says, “After contemplating her wounds further, I doubt she was a victim of just torture.”

“Just torture?”

Using a thoughtful tone, he says, “The mark seemed like the byproduct of gemchaining as the damage extended to her soul and her body. I also found sets of matching opal whenever I cleaned her wounds. They lined together creating a cable connecting her right arm with her soul’s power.”

His voice alters to one oozing disgust as he says, “They grafted a set of soul forging enchantments underneath her skin using the power of other human souls...”

The thudding of my steps booms through the forest as I think, "I never thought you cared if they where human?"

"I don't, but using souls of the same species to alter yourself, well...It is much the same as how you view cannibalism."

“Regardless, She’s fine though, right?”

“Of course. I couldn't remove the devices without disrupting her soul, however. It makes me wonder what lengths they’ll go to stop us. Nothing is sacred to them.”

My thoughts take on an eerie, ominous tone as I think, “They think they’re defending something holy, so they will go to the very pits of hell in order to save their false god. I fear they’ll bring hell with them when they come back from the abyss they entered.”

Voicing his own brand of optimism, Deluge says, “Hah. We no longer have to restrain ourselves. We fight pure and absolute corruption. I can finally unleash our potential. Hah, hah, hah. This shall be fun.”

Two parts of my mind battle as he speaks. A part of me screams in horror at the declaration, yet another laughs along with him. It matters little. This is no longer about me. This is about the people I protect.

I say, “I’ll fight best in a human-esque form since that’s what I’m used to. We can practice other styles after this.”

“Of course. What I mean to say is how we no longer have to hide. It’s liberating, isn’t it?”

From the depths of my wrath, a grin both wicked and warped grows on my lips as I say, “Let’s show them a real demon.”

In his deep, foreboding voice, Deluge rasps, “We’ll show them corruption.”

We reach the edge of campus where I skulk across the empty walkways with the same caution as before. Even though I’d like to rip each member of the palisade limb from limb, I must do so with some measure of security, else I end up torn apart myself.

But this never stops me from probing for more guards. The less of them that survive, the better.

Relishing in thoughts of carnage, I pass across several thousand feet of abandoned campus, my guard slackens before I dash across the open walkways with absolute confidence.

If they find me, it will make the hunt easier, but I doubt they’ll leave the shadows they’re hiding in. Before I reach the GC, I hide once more among the fauna on campus. A sort of oppressive haze formed around the building since I left, and as I near the building, the sound of two grating stones enters my ears distracting me.

The sound builds as I approach the building, and even after contemplating its cause, I can’t find any means for how or where it pierces into my ears. The sound forms a sort of migraine while causing my peripheral vision to darken.

Ignoring my pain, I push through this growing discomfort until I deafen over this endless ringing in my skull. My hands shake after a few seconds until flashes of my mother’s burned corpse appear in my eyes. Visions of me cannibalizing them after they died inject into my mind. The smell of burning meat and wood burns my nose while the roar of the fire intertwines with the ringing of the ear creating a paralyzing symphony.

As I gather myself from the horrors flashing in my mind, a tiny girl appears in front of me. I recognize her from my dreams. My stomach sinks before she opens her mouth revealing my jaw being ripped off by my own hands inside her throat. My cheeks stretch and rip before blood oozes from the wounds. My tendons creak before my bones snap before blood spews under my hanging tongue.

As the sensation destroys all semblance of my previous composure, I center myself by biting down on my cheek. The taste of blood refreshes my mind before I overwhelm these visions with sights of a far grimmer and more real origin.

I remember the fire in my mother’s voice as she sang her last words. I remember the worms devouring my legs before I hacked them off. I remember the agony of Joan. These memories overcome the suppressive power over me as I open my eyes revealing a plague doctor digging his scythe into my shoulder.

I can’t remember how he found me within these bushes nor when he stabbed me, but the excruciating torment coming from my shoulder screams into my mind like a clap of thunder. The scythe’s aura bleeds into me decaying my muscle and bones to a black mush while the faceless mask stares at my contorting face.

Ignoring the pain, I grab the handle of the scythe before I crush it with my fingers. The wood underneath splinters before I jerk the scythe’s blade from my body. I slam the metal towards the plague doctor, but he dodges the swipe by side stepping before he pulls two knifes from the insides of his robes.

They arc through the air before he stabs them into my guts, but I swallow the pain as I grab his shoulders and open my mouth. My jaw opens wide as my teeth sharpen and my cheeks recede.The sheer intensity of my agony fuels my carnal instincts as I bite into his his neck crushing his bone and ripping his flesh. His hands go limp after a second of my chewing down.

I rip my full mouth from his body revealing an intricate medley of organs and veins before blood leaks onto and covers the vile sight. I spit out the mound of mush in my mouth before an ominous sensation hits me.

I’m hungry.

The taste of this blood isn’t like the iron and copper of my own. This blood tastes sweet while the bones offered a pleasant crunch against my teeth. Instead of feeling odd or bizarre, the sensation of chewing the flesh feels natural. It feels good.

I shake these thoughts from my mind before I spit the rest of his bits from my mouth. I will not become a cannibal. As I resist my hunger, Deluge says,

“You can’t call this cannibalism. You’re not human anymore. Embrace it.”

I roll my eyes before I say, “I bit him in self defense.”

“Of course you did.”

I frown before I release the shoulders of the plague doctor’s corpse letting him fall to the ground. His limbs contort while blood leaks from his missing chunk of neck and collarbone, and after a moment, I remove the mask revealing an unfamiliar female face.

Tears still linger on her cheeks and in her eyes, yet not even the slightest shred of empathy forms as I remove her cloak revealing a tall, lithe figure covered in fitted, black leather. An assortment of daggers push against her sides in belts while several gems, each holding high grade spirits, rest in a pouch on her side.

I take a deep breath before I focus my mind. After several seconds, the gems glow revealing the miserable souls of those lying within. I stretch my mind as I reach out my hand and will them closer. They float towards me from outside their prisons before they show their cracked, hollow forms.

After several minutes of mind splitting labor, I sweat as I reconstruct them back into recognizable figures of their previous shells. Deluge watches with an apt eye as he gives pointers like, “Try not to erase their entire existence,” or, “Be less like an incompetent when you reform the body.”

These pieces of advice give me some direction with a hearty portion of Deluge’s characteristic snark, but I enjoy the comments. They glaze the situation in a sheen of nonchalance that I appreciate.

Still, there remains much to do. I take the clothes covering the plague doctor’s body before I use them as my own. Since she wore oversized clothes at a suitable height, the clothes fit better than I expected. They hang at my waist yet tug at my back and shoulders. I lift my hands in front of me causing the clothes to rip on my back. Great.

At least the cloak covers me for the most part. It leaves my ankles exposed, but it’s better than walking around without a shirt. After I shove the corpse under the bush I hid in, I glance around where I find no other members of the palisade, but their scent still carries in the wind.

They take second priority under helping the other students escape this prison. I wondered how the palisades crushed the student’s spirits to the extent where they wouldn’t even move without guards. Now I understand. A plague doctor or a group of them gave the students heavy, sinking visions until they could no longer think or move.

If not for the trials of my past, my mind might have crumbled at the sheer dread those scenes inflicted. On the other hand, the average student at Mareovosa could ride their parent’s wealth and fortune throughout their entire lives without any struggle of their own. I suppose that left them weak and spineless.

I shake the spiteful thought from my mind before I probe around the GC further. The students still huddle in their own filth, but at this point, they seem less dead. Someone cleaned them and fed them preventing their deaths, but they still live like lesser animals in this state.

As I pace upwards, I thank Deluge for removing the blood covering my face and shoulder. I say aloud towards the students, “Do any of you wish to leave this place? I’m offering an alternative to staying here.”

No one responds before I stomp my foot against the stone floor producing a loud crack. The students galvanize from their stupor before I say with far more authority than before, “If you wish to wallow in your filth further, then stay here. Otherwise, follow me.”

Several students gaze between the floor and me while only one student stands. Her sunken in cheeks lack the vitality they had when we first met, but her features come across regardless. The tormenter of my friend Luke, Francis, says,

“I’ll go...”

A part of me wants her destruction, but I suppress the desire as I say, “Excellent. Anyone else?”

The other students stop gazing between us before they bore their stares back to the floor. I gesture my hands outwards as I say, “You all realize that very little light awaits you here. You shall writhe and squirm and toil in darkness until your death if you choose to stay.”

I raise a hand as I say, “Imagine a warm fire at winter or the splash of cool water at summer. Imagine a future where you’re watching your grandchildren play with one another. Imagine being surrounded by your tear stricken family whenever you die, old and smiling.”

I jerk my arm outwards as I say, “You’ll never experience that if you sit here waiting for your death. You can overcome this pain. This shall be nothing but a dark memory in your future.”

I gaze around at them as I lower my hands saying, “It is from this bedrock that you’ll find a foundation for your new life. From here, you may find happiness. So rise up from your squalor, cast aside this shade you carry, and bring light into your lives once more with your own hands and your own will.”

As I speak, several students gaze back towards me until several choose to stand. Their hands clench into weak fists, but they express a defiance against their situation. They express a desire for more, so I turn around as I walk out of the GC with ten students following out of several dozen.

They walk with me until we reach the edge of campus. At this point, their steps slap against the ground with exhaustion while their shoulders droop from maintaining their posture. I turn around at the edge of the forest as I say,

“I shall give you enough food and shelter so that you’ll be able to restore your strength, but I won’t be able to sustain you thereafter. To my understanding, the students have slowly dwindled in population until only a few dozen remain, correct?”

Francis nods before I continue, “Then you just need to escape here and to your families. I’ll secure each of you enough capital for traveling back to them. You all should be fine after you reach them.”

Francis says with a weak, pleading voice, “They’ll find us...We can’t escape. I can’t-”

I say while gazing around, “I’ve yet to see any of them find us after we left. Either they are biding their time or you’ve built them up as apostles of destruction in your mind.”

I point towards my cloak as I say, “This is one of their cloaks. I took one out earlier. They are not immortal or immune to danger. Be smart and you’ll be fine.”

After a few more shallow complaints, I lead them into the forest before I find the edge of a stony cliff. I gaze upwards before I readjust several boulders out from the brink of its border. After lining up a suitable set of walls, Deluge grows a saber from the palm of my left hand as I hide the act in the shadow of a tree. This blade appears as a darkish gray color compared with the white of before, so I say,

“Why does this blade look so different then the last one?”

Deluge replies, “I found a material we can produce that is harder than enamel. I used it for this sword.”

I turn the curved edge of the weighted saber as I say, “It looks...archaic. Like iron, but darker.”

“I assure you it isn’t iron. It’s a mixture of different polymers and minerals I harvested several weeks ago. Synthesizing it proved difficult at first, but after I replaced our bones with it, I was able to work with with the substance rather easily.”

I purse my lips for a moment before I think back, “Alright, I understand. I suppose it’s good practice for the new material regardless.”

I step forward with my right foot before I push with the heel of my left foot backwards. This turns my hips as I hold my shoulders strut with the turn. My arm arcs before my sword collides with a tree in front of me at a diagonal angle.

The blade pierces through the wood like pushing through a thick paste before it lodges deep into the ground at my side. I release the blade as the tree first falls downwards while jutting into the earth After it stabs two feet into the dirt, the tree timbers sideways cracking branches while sending a swarm of birds into a frenzy overhead.

The seventy foot tree slams into the ground with a swooshing boom that reaches the mountains miles away. The others stare in utter shock at my display, but I jerk my blade from the ground before I slice the tree with a series of precise and powerful slashes.

Using these blocks of wood, I craft a shelter over the head the boulder walls as I explain, “You’ll need a fire that disperses it’s smoke, so dig a pit at the center of this shelter. Make it several feet deep. You can use my sword.”

I hand the blade to Francis without looking back at her. She takes it as she says, “I don’t see us being able to-”

The sword drags and pulls her downwards before she lets go of the six foot blade. I turn backwards before I place the last plank of fresh wood over the roofing. Numerous complaints leak from the lips of my followers, but I silence them as I say,

“It’s either this or having your mind slowly decay at the hand of the plague doctors.”

This ignites their own efforts as they use an assortment of branches for filling gaps in their shelter along with smaller rocks. After I dig up the pit for them, tear four trenches from the ground creating a cross of dug out earth. I then place small pillars of wood in these trenches before I cover them with flat stones. One of these trenches points towards where the wind often blows while the other two-foot deep trenches end up ten feet from the encampment.

With this initial set up in place, I build a fire at the center of this enclosure while placing a thin, flat boulder over the small fire. Wind blows into one of the four tunnels giving the fire air while the smoke wafts from the other trenches exiting out of the tunnels I built. This disperses the smoke enough that no visible trail of vapor forms, and since I use barkless and dry wood, the fire leaves no signal of them being here.

The lessons of my father aid in this process giving these students much needed knowledge. The crash of the tree from before will hint at their location despite my efforts, but I’ll be handling any person who comes here from that after I finish crafting this refuge.

To my surprise, they handle the situation rather well after their initial reluctance. Even though this is a new situation, their resentment withers away after the fire underneath us warms the boulder and encampment. The work also occupies their mind from the hardships they just faced, so they accept the distraction without complaint once they begin their toil. That combined with the rapidly improving situation gives them something far more valuable than the warmth of a campfire. It gives them hope.

That same hope spurs them as I explain the steps I take during the entire process giving their sharp minds a greater chance for survival. These are students of Mareovosa after all. They have at least some measure of intelligence, and I leverage off that particular trait as I teach them.

Yet after all this discussion and work, they wobble at the edge of starvation, so I sprint in a direction before the sounds of hooves against dirt enters my ears. I follow the sound before I tackle into a hapless dear. The impact crushes its spine before I club my fist into its neck snapping it.

The death is quick and painless, and I return from the hunt before I dig another pit for the skin and organs of the creature. I make the pit deep ensuring no animals will smell the organs, and I slice up the strips of meat using the same sword as before once I reach the encampment.

We cook the meal before I lighten the mood with a few humming songs of my own, and with another student’s vocal talents, we achieve a sort of cordial atmosphere out here, miles in the depths of an abandoned forest.

After they each craft beds out of pine straw, they lay near the warm stone at the center of the expanse with a greater sense of fullness and relaxation then they’ve had since their imprisonment. I learn a few of their names, but I never intend to remember them.

I wish them full and vibrant futures, but I can’t carry them in the times to come. They will need to push themselves, though I will offer them a way of reaching their futures.

Regardless, I dig yet another pit in the ground within the boulder encampment. Inside this hole, I use a donated shirt as a barrier for the slabs of meat left from our dinner at the bottom of the hole. I cover it with a rock before I set the hide of the deer on stilts over the rock at the center of the enclosure.

It will be useful for crafting wineskins. I’ll coat the inside portion of the hide with the sap of the tree preventing any liquid from seeping through the skin. They’ll need some method for keeping water whenever I ready them for travel.

The whole process only takes two hours despite the longevity of my description. My strength and exhaustless stamina give me an inhuman capacity for the labor, and the avid enthusiasm of the students helps the process. Deluge and I also debate over the finer points of the plan which irons out the usual details I would normally miss.

This puts them in a situation where I can leave them here in the forest in relative safety. I still craft them two knives and blades out of the grayish material Deluge makes, but he creates them with their lack of strength in mind. This leaves the blades light and thin enough for their usage. With their defense assured, I leave them without much worry.

What requires my attention is the strangling atmosphere that approaches the forest. Multiple plague doctors entered and sweep through it in an attempt at finding me, but their distance from one another gives me just the opening I need for killing every single one of them.

I observe them from atop trees while using my sight as a means for escaping theirs. Since my eyes proves keener than theirs, I maintain a distance outside their perception, and I gain several useful bits of information. That and Deluge’s night vision give me the tools I need for my reconnaissance.

They communicate using glowing gems so that they can signal an ambush if I attack. If more than one reached me due o that same system, the mental anguish they inflict would overwhelm me.

Eliminating them proves simple however. After they use a routine flash as a means of letting the others know of their safety, I prepare my assault. I stand at the side of a tree with a five pound stone in my hand. Right as they finish flashing, I step from behind the tree and lob a stone overhead with all my strength and power towards the body of one of their members.

The smooth rock shoots through the air faster than an arrow before it impales through my victim’s chest. The sound it produces alarms the others making them flash their gems at one another, but their quick communication means nothing in the face of my tactic.

Very rarely have I ever had the opportunity of striking at an opponent before they strike at me. This left me handling situations in an awkward and clunky fashion, but whenever I have the time and resources for crafting my own plan, I can multiply the effect of my powers against my foes.

This strategic approach shines through as I pick each of them off in a methodical and relentless massacre. I change my position after each toss preventing them from isolating my placement, and when only a single plague doctor remains, he screams with a very human and very real panic in his voice at my approach.

I shatter one of his legs with a toss before I destroy his scythe with another. As his haze dissipates, I approach him with a set of cold, calculating stomps. I play up my height and I even allow Deluge to reform my outer appearance with an extra set of arms and jagged teeth before I reach the terrified plague doctor.

He groans in agony as I reach him, and even after I step beside him, he hides his fear well. It matters not. I can hear his heart racing in his chest. His ragged breathing and the sheen of sweat reflecting the light of the moon gives me all the evidence I need. He is in horror, and I shall use that trait.

Lifting him with a single arm by his shirt, I place him near my face before I say, “How did you find me?”

The mask of his disguises his face, so I pull it off revealing an middle aged man with a mane of brown hair. His wrinkled face contorts in pain as he keeps his eyes closed as if not seeing me will prevent him from having to accept his fate.

Using an arm that juts from the top of my shoulder, I open one of his eyelids before I say, “It will serve you well if you obey me. I can end this misery of yours or prolong it. You hold your outcome in your hands.”

He shakes my grip from his eyelid before he bellows in a bout of courage, “You are nothing before Gaia’s unchanging light. All I see is a monster without a mind for good. All I see is evil.”

I grow a set of three short claws from my thumb and fingers before I set them on the edges of his eyeball. I say,

“I will gouge both of these eyes out if you do not speak. I will salt your flesh after I peel your skin from your bones. I will bend your soul and tear it apart, yet I need not do any of this if you-”

In a single fluid motion, he jerks a knife from under his coat before he whips the blade into the side of my temple. The dagger sinks to its hilt into my brain before I drop and fall atop him. I remember the weight of my own body squishing his, but it takes several minutes before I gain enough control over myself that I can rip the dagger out of my brain.

Deluge restores my mind within seconds after the dagger leaves, but the amount of damage the acolyte accomplished with such ease surprises me. They are resourceful with wills of iron. I will need to break all of his limbs if I want to interrogate him next time.

The ugly process sounds far too distasteful for me however. Deluge says, “Allow me the pleasure of interrogating him next time. These beings warp souls. Having their flesh tormented is nothing by comparison.”

I lean my hand into my face as I lay on the doctor’s crushed corpse. I think towards him, “If we use our opponents methods for stopping them, I believe we will distort our own goals.”

“Hmmm...Perhaps. I doubt our morals will be corrupted so easily.”

I raise to my feet as I think, “It may not from a single act of evil, but we may become immune to the effects of such a tragedy after we perform it ourselves.”

“Hah, I see you still retain your naive outlook even after what has occurred to you.”

I shake my head before I throw the bloody cloak from my shoulders as Deluge absorbs the bits of blood and flesh on me through my skin. The process makes me squeamish, but I say through it,

“Often times the journey towards a goal proves more important than the goal itself.”

Deluge says, “And often times you must sacrifice one ideal for another. Do you believe in the sanctity of the soul or the flesh? In my mind, flesh is ceasing. The soul, however, is eternal.”

I bite my lip before I say, “Let us resolve the matter when it becomes a problem. We’ll handle the situation your way if it comes to that.”

“Hah, hah, you might be surprised how quickly our circumstances may...devolve.”

I blink for a moment before I begin returning our body to normal. Deluge’s reasoning is correct. I attempted being moral in my actions before, yet I reaped the results of my chosen course. Joan lays broken and shattered. I am hated and looked upon as an agent of corruption. I face twisted hordes of psychotic zealots aiming to kill me for their false god and false religion.

All of these factor spawn from my lack of decisiveness. If I destroyed every loose end that may have exposed me, then I wouldn’t need to worry about my current circumstances. Yet here I am ignoring the lessons of my past for some false promise of morality.

There remains a fact I’ve learned since fusing with Deluge. This world is gray. There are no black and white lines that decide what is just and what is wrong, and just as my enemies employ tactics that forsake even the most basic principles of humanity, I may need to do the same.

After thinking over my resolution, I grit my teeth and shake this indecision from me before I say, “Then we shall do what is necessary.”

In a pleased and amiable tone, Deluge says, “Of course. Hah, hah.”

Deluge has a killer evil laugh. His creepy voice and lack of any reservation no longer matters to me however.

He’s saved me many times. He’s healed Joan and Sophia while giving me the power I need for my goals. He’s even taught me many lessons I needed to learn. I’m thankful he’s here with me despite what he is.

These thoughts set my course as I sprint towards the campus, but the level of oppression permeating from the campus leaves me bewildered. The endless wave of leaden despair growing from mareovosa crushes me like the tirade of an evil god.

Assaulting them any more will put both Deluge and I at risk, so I retreat before killing and gutting another deer. After I finish the task, I return to Razor’s lair. The murals of Aether impress me once more before as I enter at the crack of dawn. Aether and Sophia work with with one another as they stand beside a cauldron. It simmers with a pronounced aroma reminiscent of the herbal teas my father would craft from roots out of our back yard.

The tea tasted bitter and thin, but my father loved its taste, so I feigned enjoying the mixture as well. That same kind of bitter taste melds with the nostalgia I now feel. I shake this gloom from me before I walk up with the deer held in my right hand.

Sophia and Aether handle their routine without ceasing as I step up, so I walk beside one of their tables before I slice the deer into numerous thin slices that I throw in the pot of stew. After I finish a single leg of the creature, Sophia says,

“I see you’re wearing the cloak of a plague doctor.”

I continue my work without meeting her eye as I say, “After I saved several of the students on campus, a few of the doctors tried finding me in the forest. They would have found the students if I didn’t do what I did.”

She turns towards me as she says with a far brighter tone in her voice as she says, “I thought you were Deluge. Usually he’s the one that’s you at night.”

I grin before I glance at her saying, “He’s most likely asleep right now. I had to wake him whenever I healed Joan.”

Sophia nods before she says, “Is she ok? She still hasn’t left your room.”

I turn back toward the deer’s carcase as I say, “She’s fine.” I continue slashing it with a set of thin claws I grew from my fingers as I say, “She has scars, but after the torment they put her through, she’s lucky to have retained her sanity and life.”

Sophia turns back towards the dicing of her vegetables while Aether stirs the contents of the cauldron. She slices the plants with a heavy, slow motion like she’s moving underwater as the atmosphere sinks in. After a heavy moment of tension, Aether says,

“Thank you for saving her Jack. Sophia wept after she saw what shape Joan was in. Sophia’s more grateful than she’s letting on. I am as well.”

He turns towards me with the white center of his eyes piercing my unease as he says, “You’ve saved my friend and I more times than I dare to count already. I have been told about your journey by Sophia. Since you helped me, I would like to help you. I would like to join you during your trek.”

I blink for a moment before I say, “Thank you Aether. Thank you.”

He turns back towards his cauldron as he says, “It is nothing.”

My throat burns at his declaration. A sincere thanks isn’t something I often attain or expect, so hearing it from Aether hits hard. Being appreciated for what I’ve done is quite a profound and joyous feeling, and having allies behind your back as you challenge a god helps moral. It leaves me content. It leaves me full.

We finish our work as the gems overhead begin glowing with a near holy radiance. Aether and Sophia explain that the light reflects from passages above the ground aether dug earlier. He lined them with several dozen gemstones that reflect the light until it reaches inside our cavern. The shine gives the entire cavern a new breath of life, and with that same air comes a new aura.

This is no dark cavern folded in darkness. This is a refuge against the tortures overhead. Aether and the others worked until this place no longer ebbs with a dark tide. It gives a hopeful sort of air despite the dread of our enemies above. This is a place I could call home.

That and the delicious smell coming from the cauldron loosen the bone snapping tension I’ve carried with me since Petra and Joan discovered my secrets. These people care for themselves with a refreshing competence, and that leaves me with far fewer burdens than I anticipated.

Sophia and Aether’s idle chatter ease in this easy atmosphere. They discussed how birds flew and how Aether mishandled a type of herb. They discuss how to fix this before they talked about how beautiful a certain flower was. Their general discussions revolved around light topics. They’re open discussions that I’ve rarely had.

The only person I’ve spoken with in the same fashion remains Joan and my parents. That may be a byproduct of my own constant effort, but that simple, relaxing discussion is something I wish I could make more of.

Once more, I find myself lost in thought. As Sophia grabs several stone bowls, the clatter of the rounded rock wakes me from my mental trance. After I revitalize from my daze, I assist with setting the table before the sound of a scraping plate enters the room. Luke struggles with opening his door before I jog over towards him and assist him with the task.

He grins with his sleepy eyes as he says, “It’s good to see you again. It's been a while.”

I shrug before I say, “I sleep long and hard.”

He frowns before he says, “For three weeks though?”

We walk over towards the others as I say, “Considering I hadn’t slept in months, it makes sense.”

Luke clamps his hand into a fist as he shouts, “I knew it.”

I raise an eyebrow before he explains, “I knew that sleepwalking excuse was complete bullshit. I knew it.”

A sly grin forms on my face as I say, “I was never the best liar anyways, though others have fallen to my nefarious plots.”

He rolls his eyes before he says, “I knew it was something you didn’t want to explain. I figured you’d tell me one day just like you told me about Helfeston. I also thought it had something to do with how big you are now. I mean dude, you must be seven feet tall.”

I shake my head before I say, “I’m more like 6’7 or so. The foreboding cape adds a couple inches.”

We chuckle before we sit down at the table. After only a minute of idle chatter, Antoinnette scrapes her plate with a slight grunt of effort. Since Luke has one arm versus two, Antoinnette actually doesn’t require my help, so she paces over before she grins in my direction while saying,

“It’s good to see you finally woke up. I told them you were too tough to die while asleep. They believed me.”

I raise a hand while pointing towards the gem roof as I say, “The real question, Antoinnette, is,” I point my finger towards her, “Did you continue practicing the violin while I was away?”

She beams a grin as she says raises her chin, “I’m probably better than you at this point.”

A chuckle escapes my lips before I say with a confident grin of my own, “Good luck with that.”

Luke turns towards me before he says, “You can play the violin?”

I fold my raised hand sideways as I say, “A bit.”

As Aether pours the stew into rock bowls, Sophia says, “You're better than just a bit.” She leans towards the others as she says, “I heard from Joan that he out performed the music teacher.”

I raise an eyebrow as I say in feigned shock, “I never took you for a gossip, Sophia.”

She averts her gaze before she says, “I’d be a fool not to gather information that’s so readily available.”

Luke shakes his head as he joins my teasing, “Tsk, tsk, tsk. I took you for a reader Sophia. I never knew you had this side to you.”

I nod in his direction as I say, “For shame Sophia.”

Luke finishes, “For shame.”

After Sophia stares between us with her eyebrows raised and her mouth open in distraught, Luke and I burst into a laughter before she frowns at our ruse. After I relish in the laughter for a moment, I say,

“I know Joan was just talking with you. Luke and I meant nothing by that. I’m sorry if that stunt hurt your feelings.”

She blinks for a moment before she glowers at her stew saying, “No, it’s ok.” She turns back at Luke with a piercing stare as she says, “The fact that you both just did that without any planning though. Well that makes me nervous.”

Luke shouts, “There’s MEAT. HELL YEAH.”

The others glance at their soup before an outcry of palpable joy radiates from everyone eating at the table. They mustn't have eaten meat in the passing weeks, so even a few slices of lean, gamey deer provides a break from the monotony. I smile before I raise myself from the table as I say, “Antoinnette, do you have any clothes that you wouldn’t mind lending to Joan?”

She shoos me off with her hand as she says, “Give the poor thing something to wear. Don’t worry about me. Just take a drawer and put it in your room.”

I nod before I walk through the cavern and enter Antoinette's room while noticing the glowing jewels set in the corners of the room. The multiple colors along with the assortment of furniture and tapestries make the room appear stylish and edgy. Antoinnette has class, I’ll give her that.

Hopefully she owns simpler clothes for Joan. I couldn’t imagine her wearing one of Antoinette's frilly dresses.

I shouldn’t have worried however. She owns a wide variety of clothing, and I grab an entire drawer from her dresser before I wade out of the room.

After I open the plate towards my room, I tip toe my steps as I put all my efforts towards letting Joan sleep, but her appearance strikes me whenever I look at her.

She was pale as snow before with hair equally white. Her eyes shown lavender and her pink lips complemented her pronounced cheek bones. Now her tanned skin contrasts with that same short, white hair and the light pink of the scars tracing her body.

The jagged white mark across her neck gives her a fierce and dreamlike appearance reminding me of a warrior angel fallen to earth. These factors culminate until she owns an extraordinary elegance. Her lean, athletic frame enhances this effect until I find myself staring for a few minutes before I snap myself from my unhindered observation.

Yet as I set the drawer down, the opal that Sophia keeps on her desk falls down with a sharp clap against the stone floor. I freeze for a moment before a set of words spoken with a sleepy voice says,

“Jack, is that you?”