Part 1

- RAPHAEL BLUESCALE’S POV -

“I’m sorry darling, but no one’s been here that fits that description. Mhh…haven’t seen one either ‘round the village” Said the blonde-haired woman with that strange vine-like braid, the owner of the tavern we were in.

“Of course, of course, just like all those other damn villages for the past month!” I replied as my grip on the wooden counter hardened so much that my fingers began to sink in.

“R-Raph-” Whispered Julie as she firmly pulled my cape to the side causing me to shift my balance for half a second, just enough to make me snap out of that spurt of rage.

I softened my grip instantly the moment I felt my sister’s pull on my cape and the soft and empathic expression on the tavern owner changed into a more hardened one. I forced my lungs to slow down, consciously measuring my breaths, slowing down my heart rate until I could feel my anger quell and my mind clear up.

“Forgive me-” I said bowing my head just slightly “- I did not mean to lash out. I will pay you back for the counter”

“Oh no, it’s ok darling. Was this, ehm…Is this person someone close to you?” She asked in return, apparently shaking whatever worry crossed her mind in an attempt to better understand the client in front of her.

“Yes…Yes, he’s our father. We’ve been separated, for months now. Supposedly, he has crossed the dwarven border and came into elven lands but we have not seen a single trace of him ever since coming here” I replied with a disheartened sigh as Julie lowered her gaze.

“Oh poor you! It must be so hard, so young and already alone. I feel for you, darlings…Ehm, if I may-” Said the woman gesturing with a motion of her hand to reach closer before she began to whisper “- this may just be a shot in the dark but, if you are desperate, I know of a woman, a seer, who lives in the woods near Bolton”

“Bolton?-” I interrupted “- As in Bolton’s grey bark forest? The one that’s supposedly being investigated by the knights and mages of the capital?”

“Indeed, dark things have been happening there recently, but Bolton has more than one woods nearby. The grey bark forest is ‘bout a day from Bolton while the seer lives just a couple of hours away. Rumor has it she lives in a mushroom but, as I said, it’s just a rumor…Anyway-” The woman continued after making sure none were listening to her words other than us two “- she used to work for the court and is supposed to read someone’s future like a book. I doubt you’ll ever come across someone as capable as her when it comes to looking for someone”

“Interesting-” I replied intrigued “- but where’s the catch? I doubt someone who worked for the crown would just read a farmer’s hand willy-nilly”

“Right you are-” Sighed the woman as if she felt a sense of shame from the seer’s behavior “- apparently, the seer’s expensive. Either you have coin, lots of it, or something valuable to exchange. Even then, she a fickle thing, heard people say nobles came offering heaps of gold and jewels yet still got kicked out and refused to service. As I said, fickle”

“So basically, it’s up to this seer’s mood and tastes whether we get listened to or not?” I replied.

“Pretty much-” Answered the woman with a disheartened shrug of her shoulders “- It ain’t much of a lifesaver, I know”

“No, no, I appreciate the suggestion. We had to go north either way but opted to steer away from Bolton, making a stop there doesn’t really change much-” I said, pondering on the new piece of information I just received as I spoke “-...Say, I know there’s no guild in this village but is there any work for an adventurer? Perhaps something that would put me on the road to Bolton?”

“Matter of fact there is-” Said the woman with a somewhat cheerful glint in her eyes, a clear sign of her eagerness to help “- If you’re an adventurer you know how to fight, right?”

“Yes-” I replied with a tap of my palm on the hilt of the sword hanging from my waist “- in our group, me and the dwarf with that overly big hammer know how to fight. What’s the job?”

“Nothing difficult, sugar. Listen, once you leave this place, turn right and go down the main road ‘till you see a tall house with a red roof on the left. Take the turn and two buildings down the road you’ll see a shop called ‘Pixie’s tail trinkets and second-hand’. The owner’s name’s Douglas, a friend of mine, and he needs some capable people to make the journey from here to Cattail village. It’s not Bolton, but it’s close, ‘round two days by horse. He’s a stingy man, not gonna lie, but at least it’s better than nothing, yes?” Said the woman with the slime of an awful salesman.

“Mhh, not the best of jobs, but we’ll make do-” I replied after some thought “- I’ll see what my…companion thinks about this and then we’ll hear this Douglas”

“Yes, you do that-” Said the woman with an even bigger smile “- Oh, and make sure you say Marienna sent you. That ought to make that old goat a bit less stingy. Hopefully”

Part 2

While the road to Cattail was supposed to be riddled with bandits and robbers- or so rumors said- we traveled as smoothly as one could wish. The whole journey took us nothing more than a day and a half. We even took our sweet time since old Douglas was a major pain to deal with due to his constant change of mood. Nonetheless, we left for Cattail in the morning and reached the village just a couple of hours short of lunch. The next morning we were already on horseback toward Bolton.

The two-day journey from Cattail to Bolton actually took four since a noble belonging to those lands called for a wolf hunt. The wolf hunt was not the problem per se but rather it caused all wolves in the zone to flee to somewhere else. That somewhere else being our general direction. After the first two encounters with the wolves and a lengthy chat with one of the noble’s soldiers, we decided to take a detour, adding two days to our schedule. We reached the western gate of Bolton early on the morning of the fifth day. So early that the gates had yet to open and we were forced to camp, along with some adventurers and two tired-looking merchants, outside the walls for a couple hours.

Bolton was different from other cities I had seen before. Alamara found its beauty in the orderly manner and cozy feeling of how the city itself was structured, along with the style of buildings that reminded me of home. Blackwall thrived in chaos. With streets that climbed over houses and formed an intricate tridimensional labyrinth, Blackwall could be said to be beautiful in its spontaneity. Drughmin was, in a word, majestic. A city that truly spoke volumes of the craftsmanship ability of the dwarves. Bolton, on the other hand, was rather strange. Or at least that was the feeling I felt as soon as I set foot across the gate. The villages we visited along the way were all based on the land, most of which had a tree, a giant rock, or any other landmark from which the village sprouted from. Those who inhabited those villages were cautious of nature, respectful even, and built their homes in harmony with it. Bolton was, in a word, wrong.

It was a green city, as goes in the elven lands, that is without a doubt, but it was not built with natural harmony in mind. It was as if the walls surrounding Bolton were created first then a few structures and, finally, those who built Bolton realized their mistakes and desperately tried to reach the same harmony that is found in the smaller villages. Some streets were neat, straight and purposeful, others were a complete jumble of tall buildings, short houses, gardens, random trees and ponds. Even the style in which the structures were built was a complete mess. We could see tall buildings reaching up to five stories that were completely fused with nature. There were trees sprouting from the walls and roof, waterfalls of red, yellow and blue flowers adorned the walls and the grey stone, seemingly picked up at random from the ground, mixed homogeneously with the light-brown wood. Then we’d see houses made wholly of stone bricks, shops seemingly carved out of one single chunk of stone, or villas built in regal white marble. Simply put, Bolton was so inconsistent that it was difficult to even look around, let alone orientate.

“All right, I can already picture how this will turn up-” I said as I began to dig into my coin pouch and fish out some coins that I then signaled Julie to take “- Let’s split up. You two go looking for a place to stay since SOMEONE has been CONSTANTLY complaining about my choice of inns. Julie, make sure that someone doesn’t choose something too luxurious and gets drunk in the process. I’ll look for directions to the seer’s house. Let’s meet here at noon”

“That’s ‘cause ya got gold and aim to spend copper! Ya know what that’s called? Being a damn cheap stake! That’s what it is! Between camping and them sorry excuses for beds, my back’s starting to get real sore” Complained Ballarak while mumbling some dwarven swear words directed at me. A practice he began using frequently after not being able to cuss in common because of Julie’s presence.

“Yes, yes, you old man. We are all soo sorry for your back…Keep an eye on Julie” I said with a sigh as I fastened my pouch back on my belt.

“Yes, yes, yes *sigh* I know the drill. See ya at noon…I get to choose where we eat. Heard those merchants from before talking about a place where they make a steak fully bathed in elven wine. It got me all hungry!” Giddily said the dwarf with the smile of a child as he patted his belly several times.

By the morning of the day after we were moving out from the north gate towards the thin woods surrounding Bolton. We were able to get directions for the seer’s house from the innkeeper and an old woman tending to a shop I visited to mend my clothes. My two companions seemed well-rested, even going so far as smelling of scented soap in Ballarak’s case, a service the innkeeper clearly stated was not included and was expensive since scented soaps are not common. I, on the other hand, had my sleep plagued by nightmares. The usual lake of blood. A scene I had grown way too accustomed to for my own tastes. Either way, Bolton’s walls were now behind us, and the woods in front of us had none to little dangers in them, thus I took the subsequent three hours on horseback to meditate.

The smell of nature was strong among these woods. The leaves carried by a gentle, if a bit cold, wind danced around our path turning the otherwise only green scenery into a canvas of various shades of brown, red and yellow. It was only when we started to approach the clearing in the midst of the woods that nature itself seemed to mellow down. In the middle of the clearing, resting atop a small hill, stood the wooden house of the seer. A two-story house made of red, black and light brown wood built around a weeping willow-like tree that broke out from one side of the roof. The ancient tree, with its leaves and hundred vines, seemed to mix perfectly with the structure, as if supporting it, to the point that it was difficult to distinguish which of the two came first.

We entered the clearing and approached the hill. A shift in the mana around us occurred but it was strange in nature, rather than being something ordered by a mage, be it a barrier or a simple ejection of mana, it felt more like mana at its most basic state. Not quite something like the natural mana I had learned to make use of, something deeper, more ancient. Yet it disappeared the moment I tried to dig for more and the very notion of that shift happening seemed to somehow fade from my mind. Only bits of it, like foggy memories, remained. I shook my head to clear the mist in it and tied my horse to the fence lining the path towards the seer’s house. Ballarak and Julie followed suit and soon we were standing in the doorway, knicking at the small-framed door with the heavy brass door knocker in the shape of a dog’s mouth.

The sound of glass falling, piles of paper flying about and the heavy thump of one, or perhaps several, falling books echoed through the house until they reached us at the doorstep. Hurried and dragged steps followed a loud yelp and then, a scrawny elf dressed in a way-too-big brown tunic appeared on the door. His eyes were thin and, below the half-closed eyelids, were two big grey irises. He had deep bag beneath his eyes and accentuated facial features. His ears were bigger than normal a common elf’s and floppy at their ends, a distinguishing factor of that specific branch of the elven race.

[A high elf, I see…this could turn ugly at any time, especially since we have a dwarf with us] I thought as I purposefully slowly took in all of the man’s figure to try and find any other detail that might be helpful in negotiation, as I had learned to do during the journey.

“May I know what is such an odd group doing here?” Asked the elf with a low voice, almost a whisper, but holding a firm tone.

“Right, yes-” I replied as I was abruptly forced to stop focusing on the elf’s looks “- Forgive us for intruding but we are looking for a seer that lives in this woods. Some of the townspeople led us to believe this is her house. Are we mistaken?” I asked as I kept my tone rigorous and firm but courteous so as to not offend the elven nobility in front of me.

“Mistaken?-” Asked the elf perplexed and, perhaps, a little slow “- No, no, you are not mistaken…well, only half. I take it the news have yet to reach a foreigner’s ears then”

“Pardon my meddling but what news may you be speaking about?” I asked, courteous again but firmer in my questioning.

“I fear you have come for naught, if you sought the seer herself. Madame Manto passed away recently. Her body is being delivered as we speak from foreign lands to the elven capital…Did you know her personally? If so you are more than welcome to attend her funeral” Replied the elf clearly eager to put an end to the conversation.

“No we did not know nor ever met the seer-” I replied as I slowly bowed, crossing my legs and reaching for my ear from across my chest in the elven fashion “- I take it you are her apprentice, yes? If so, my deepest condolences. As for the reason for our presence, we hoped to make use of her services to track someone but without her, I wager our stay in Bolton will be shorter than expected. Thank you for your time and good day” I finished as I rose from my deep bow and bowed slightly with my head once more before turning around and walking away from the door.

“Please wait, if you will-” Said the elf as he coughed twice to clear his throat and shrugged off some dust and filth from his tunic in an attempt to appear more dignified “- As you correctly said, I am Madame Manto’s apprentice. My ability as a seer is lacking as Madame’s death came before she could finish my training, still, I may be of help in your search. Helping people would be what the Madame would want…for a price, as usual”

I smiled a little as I heard him say that before turning around with a fully serious face and thanking him. The elven apprentice invited us into the house, asking us to please don’t mind the chaos since he was cleaning up the place. Piles of books created leaning and perilous towers at every corner, stacks of papers written in elvish with sigils and signs I had never seen before threatened to fly away with the faintest of winds, and the dust…oh, so much dust piled everywhere. Seeing how dextrously the elf moved in between the chaos, I wondered whether he was the source of it or the departed seer. We were offered a seat at a wooden table filled with books and papers that the elf promptly scooped up with both hands and dropped onto a random corner of the house. Alarick, as the elf introduced himself, made some small talk while preparing us a cup of this strange, very green tea that Ballarak, in rude dwarven fashion, declined. Once seated, sipping the very strong herbal tea and munching on some crackers-like snacks, Alarick finally felt like talking business.

“Mhh, you said before that you are searching for someone. May I know a bit more?” He said as his tension seemingly faded away after a few sips of that tea.

“He’s our father-” I replied trying the tea that was offered me and regretting it soon after. It tasted awfully like grass “- we’ve *cough* been separated after the labyrinth incident in Migur. He’s tall, has brown hair, big dumb eyes, knows how to handle a sword, broad shoulders…if you need more details just ask”

“Ehm, well, we shall go there later. Ehm, I realize this may sound…complicated to hear but, have you considered the possibility that he may have not survived the labyrinth? Very few did and they were all great fighters” Said the elf cautiously as if stepping on glass.

“We survived” Julie, apparently offended by the man’s remark, replied.

“All three of you? All of you are survivors of the labyrinth?” The elf asked with pure surprise.

“Nah, only them two-” Answered Ballarak as he pointed at me and Julie with his thumb “- I just tagged along recently ‘cause it seemed useful”

“Oh, wow…that’s…wow…It’s incredible!-” Said the elf as he jumped from his chair and almost sprawled across the table to look closer at our faces “- Two survivors of that monstrous incident, right in front of my eyes, and at such young age. This is incredible…now that I look closely, yes, yes, I can quite understand why you survived-” Alarick said as he basically touched my nose with his “- you are a mage! And no small-time mage at that…yet there is something odd with your mana…perhaps-”

“Can we please get back to our previous topic?” I asked, interrupting the elf and leaving him quite concerned and in shock.

“Ah, yes, yes…ehm, while it is surprising that you two survived, I fear that any non-mage fighter might have found that difficult. I mean this with absolutely no offense toward your father but there is a high chance there may be no one to find” Said the elf as he sat back down on his chair and re-acquired a courteous demeanor.

“Don’t worry about that…he’s alive” I replied shortly.

“May I ask how can you be sure of that?” He asked.

“You may not-” I scoffed “- Know that it was a…reliable source that informed me of my father's safe departure from the dungeon”

“WHAT?” Shouted Julie as she looked at me livid.

“What’s the matter with you? I told you already he was alive. What more would you need?” I complained in a harsher tone than I wished for in a volume that stood at the very edge between speaking and shouting.

I felt blood rushing to my temples with great force causing a sudden fit of dizziness while the blood running through my veins in the rest of my body fastened. Without a doubt, it was anger. More important than the anger itself was its reason, or rather the lack of it. Even after hours from that conversation, I still couldn’t clearly state a reason. Was it the lack of trust? The fact that I was forcing myself to trust the words of my torturer? Of my brother’s killer? Or was it because of the constant nightmares keeping me on edge? I felt it was none of them and all at the same time. A mix of confusing feelings I had no wish to figure out.

The room was silent for several, long and painfully awkward seconds. Ballarak was averting his gaze, searching the room with his eyes as he, quite clearly, tried to dodge ours. Alarick, on the other hand, lacked the necessary touch and simply had his eyes bonce between mine and Julie’s whose gaze searched mine with dumbfounded lack of understanding.

“Master Alarick-” I said after I grew tired of waiting for my sister’s response or retort, though without prying my eyes from hers “- please continue”

“Ah, ehm. There is no need for the “master”, as I said I’m just an apprentice. Alarick will do just fine-” The elf said as he finally came to the realization that staring at us in that situation was out of place, thus finally averting his gaze “- Now then, since you say he’s alive I’ll proceed with explaining the ritual. Please be advised that once I start the preparations I will not give back the sum you paid even if the ritual fails. Is this an acceptable term?”

[No refunds, uh?] I thought to myself, briefly imagining the slender elf as a modern-day scammer.

“First I’ll listen to the explanation, then I’ll decide” I said as I pinched my thing under the table until the stinging sensation dimmed my anger.

It took almost a full hour before the elf’s explanation came to an end. By that time, I was the sole listener. Julie was skimming books stacked up in a corner away from the table while our bearded friend slept and snored heavily on a patch of trimmed grass outside. The elf clearly had a lack of conversational partners and I just happened to be a damn fine one since my understanding of magic was more extensive than the average mage. Every few concepts the elf introduced, every few ingredients he said he’d need, I would question him or offer my skepticism. If I had done that to any other person, especially if said person was a mage, a profession worldwide known to birth self-centered individuals, the conversation would have not ended peacefully, if a conversation could be even held. Alarick, instead, seemed to take my questions and skepticism as a sort of inquisitive nature and enjoyed the chance to converse on topics related to his profession and, very clearly, his passion.

Alarick spoke of seven different salts, how he has to use them, and how he must use some of those to create some sort of candles and chalk. He spoke of leaves, crystals, and mana stones to support his lacking circuits. He spoke of perfumes and whatnot to attract the spirits. To me, it was all a bunch of voodoo nonsense. Expensive voodoo nonsense. By the time the eager-to-chat elf finished his sermon on the various ways spirits grant seers visions of the required person or subject, I was slumping, almost melting, on the chair and sighed.

“Seriously?-” I asked not really searching for an answer as I massaged my eyelids with my thumb and middle finger “- Three whole gold coins and two days of preparations?!”

“Ehm, yes-” He replied hesitantly as if he didn’t understand the meaning of my words “- As I explained the crystals and mana stones must be fairly pure as to not-”

“I know, I know!-” I growled “-Gods! It was just an expression!*sigh*”

“...Soo, are you willing to go through with the ritual?” Alarick asked meekly but with a hint of expectation in his tone.

“Yes, yes, we will-” I replied as I began fishing into my pouch for the aforementioned sum of coins “- Not like we have much choice do we? I don’t have time to look behind every nook and cranny of the four continents for my father…Tell me, Alarick, how likely is the ritual to succeed?”

“Weell-” He said before stopping for a second to think while tapping rhythmically on his upper lip with his index “- if your father is in Esden, then the ritual is highly likely to work. Mhh, if you want numbers…Eight out of ten times? Yes. There’s a chance he may be in a place that spirits tend to avoid but those are rare here”

“Eight out of ten…-” I repeated “- Eight out of ten. Not optimal but I’ll take it…What if he’s not on this continent”

“...One” Alarick said almost guiltily.

“One? One what?!” I asked already imagining what the elf’s answer would be.

“One out of ten chances” He replied along with a defeated sigh.

“Of course that would be the case…what the hell did I expect?-” I said as I slammed my fists onto the table. A long silence followed interrupted only by the sound of the coin that I was spinning on the wooden surface. Finally after a whole minute, or perhaps five, of thinking, I continued “- At least it’s not zero*sigh*...When can we start?” I asked as I pushed the coins in his direction.

“Oh!-” Gasped Alarick as his eyes gleamed with a greedy light “- I’ll prepare things here on my end, gather the necessary items and review the ritual. It should all be ready on the day after tomorrow. Late morning would be optimal since spirits tend to be the most active around those hours”

[Greedy bastard] I thought as I shook the elf’s eager hands.

Part 3

“Everything’s ready, then?” I asked as I sat at the large stone table sitting in the ‘backyard’ of the seer’s house.

“Indeed-” Alarick chirped merrily as he placed his glasses back on his tired, strained, and red-bagged eyes “- Now, before you ask, no, we cannot start right away. I lit the candles, incense and powers just short of ten minutes ago. Please let them fill the room and take effect. The spirits must find the room to be the ideal place”

“How long do we have to wait?” I asked as my eyes trailed across the table filled with bowls of snacks most of which were made of different types of bread mixed with cured meat.

“Let us give it an hour to take effect. It should be the perfect environment then” Alarick replied as he gestured to us, though mostly Julie whose eyes wandered greedily between bowls, to eat as we pleased.

“Wait still?-” Asked Ballarak with no sign of hiding either his rudeness nor his displease “- Curiosity’s been eating away at me, ya know! ‘Been growing tired of waiting”

“You motherfu-” I began to say as I turned my head to the dwarf sitting beside me before stopping my words in my mouth as I met Julie’s gaze “- Ehm…You’ve done nothing but eat and drink yourself to sleep for the past two days! The hell you mean ‘I’m tired of waiting’?!”

“What’s ya problem?-” The dwarf asked genuinely confused “- What was I supposed to do, uh?”

“Literally ANYTHING else other than…-” I stormed before sighing back onto my chair and massaging my eyelids “- You know what? Forget it. Let’s just wait”

And wait we did. An hour of snacking, talking about the ritual and of loud discussions between me and Ballarak. Finally, as we watched the last grain of sand falling from an hourglass that Alarick took from one of the many pockets in his tunic, the waiting came to an end and we made our way through the book-ridden room towards the room in the attic. The moment Alarick opened the hatch leading to the attic, a soft pinkish smoke fell into the lower room in waves. Promptly the elf led us to the attic as fast as possible in order not to waste the smoke. Up there was a cacophony of coughs. Ballarak and Julie, being the shortest of the group, had it the worst. It took all of us several minutes to settle down and adjust to the smoke.

Finally, as the pain constricting my chest dimmed, I had the chance to look at the room. The roof was triangular and low, not enough to stretch my arm halfway, covered by tiles of different shades of wood with colorful runes written all over them. Some I recognized being elvish and old dwarven, others I couldn’t tell. All the furniture, consisting of two short tables, an altar-looking thing made of a very dark wood draped in purple cloth, several small cabinets, and a slightly reddish blackboard, were all pushed towards the wall to make space for a voodoo-like circle made with chalk in the middle of the room. The circle consisted of three concentric circles all having a series of either squares or triangles adorning them. In the space between circles, elven runes written in different colored chalks were half covered by burning candles dripping wax on the chalk and causing it to puff some smoke. Other similar candles and incense were placed all over the room.

The one thing out of place was the thick book clad in purplish leather sitting at the very center of the room inside the smallest circle. It had no title, or words for that matter, written on its cover. Instead, a cacophony of strange shapes forming a sort of maze-looking design was depicted in white. Alarick, now donning an elegant white and purple tunic with lavish golden adornments, walked in circles around the room in slow motions until, satisfied, he stepped into the three chalk circles, picked up the book, and sat where it previously was. With closed eyes in reverence, Alarick opened the book and moved through the pages with experience until, seemingly satisfied, he placed the book down into one of the chalk squares wide enough for the open book to fit in perfectly. With a glance at me, the elf signaled me to start the next stage of the ritual.

I took Julie’s hand and slowly walked toward a specific little circle that Alarick was pointing at. Julie’s hand was cold, trembling slightly and her pulse below my finger felt like a drum. After everything she had gone through, I never thought that a little cut on the hand would scare her. Nonetheless, she did not utter a word of complaint nor tried to pull back. To spare her any more fear than she was already feeling, the moment I extracted my knife from my belt, I rapidly moved to cut. A very thin line of red formed on her downward-facing palm as it dripped blood directly into the chalk circle. I helped her keep her hand steady with one of my hands around her wrist with two fingers on the back of her hand and the other hand caressing her shoulder. With a low hum, Alarick let us know when the blood puddled on the floor was enough. Retreating back to our corner I picked up some of the bandages I had left in my pocket and tended to her wound. A soft “thank you” was all she said before sitting cross-legged on the ground like Ballarak.

The air, carrying the full brunt of all the different smells filling the room, seemed to swirl and dance as Alarick began reciting words from the book in front of him. There was elvish in his words. That and something else. Something that seemed to resonate with the mana around us, calling it, raising it from the ground and mixing it with the air. Visually, nothing happened other than the smoke from the candles swirling and dwindling a bit. However, it was a whole different story from my senses’ POV. Alarick was the eye of the storm and all around him was a hurricane of raw power hell-bent on not destroying anything, not touching anything, not moving anything. It was as if this “hurricane” swirled and turned as it purposefully dodged everything in the room, trying to be as stealthy as possible. It was a contradiction in and of itself.

Suddenly, Alarick’s chanting changed. The respectful, almost holy-sounding, chant turned into a hymn. A hymn full of vigor and strength, summoning a primordial thirst surging from your deepest parts, right in the core of your chest. The chaotic hurricane picked up speed as it slowly got sucked away, taking shape, mutating as Alarick’s words gained edge and volume. I noticed then, between the distraught thoughts of my dizzy mind, that thin trails of blood were dirtying the wooden floor right below me. My clutched fists caused my nails to sink deep into my flesh, deeper than my nails could possibly be. In the midst of untangling that thought, my consciousness half-slipped away, leaving me in a state of perpetual wakeness and not. I was bobbing my head back and forth as if too tired to keep it steady in place. The scents filling the room did nothing to help, instead they seemed to seep deep below my skin and soothe my very soul. Just like a motherly caress. What came after was nothing but a blur.

The colors in the room changed. From the dim pink lit by the candles and the stray rays of sun, to a blurry mass of red, blue and purple. Alarick’s voice became a soft buzzing in my ears as I watched astonished the colors melting and taking shape. Then, figures began appearing in the room. A turtle with a silver shell and four black-feathered wings where its limbs should have been. A fox-like creature with more eyes than I could count coated in luxurious blue fur. A woman…no, three…no, one with three heads seemed to appear and disappear, embracing the whole room with her lips. A snake seemingly transparent reflected the light and only two purple gems in its eyes along with five more of those gems floating around inside it. A long centipede with an exoskeleton made of crystal and two antennas that ended in fleshy lamp-like bulges that emitted a red-hot light.

Many more of such creatures appeared before me, only to disappear the next second, attaining physical form long enough for me to doubt whether those things I saw existed or not. I could not help but doubt myself. I couldn’t even trust my own thoughts, much less my eyes and other senses. I felt as if I was in two places at the same time: in the attic and in a forest. There was gree all around me. Tall trees and small trees. The air was cold and crispy. I knew that forest like the back of my hand, yet I had never been there and had been there for months.

I knew that tree, the one that had been hit by lightning yet remained standing. I marked that tree with my scent so that, if anyone decided to enter the forest, others of my kind would know of my domain and challengers would come seek me. Yet I had no domain nor I ever marked something with my scent. Not willingly, at least. My eyes were both looking at Alarick and a small valley below the cliff I was standing on. My ears were faintly picking on both the hymn filling the attic and the chirping of birds along with the soft wind caressing the treetops.

Overwhelmed by the surplus of information, the dizziness and the frustrating inability to discern reality from imagination, my brain short-circuited and my consciousness left me for good as I closed my eyes and felt the wood hit my forehead.

“Oh, there ya go-” Groggily said Ballarak from some corner of the room as a frustrating ray of sun attempted to break through my closed eyelids and reach my naked eyes “- ‘bout time sleepy princess wakes up from the nap!”

I forced my eyes open, feeling my head split as the first hint of sun pierced my eyes so much that I could even taste the sun. Below me was a hard leather couch. Covering me was an old, dusty brown blanket too small for my body. My feet, missing both socks and boots, were lying there, naked and basking in the sun. Through the splitting headache, shards of the seer’s ritual memories came back to me. Alas, I could not make much sense of them since they all seemed covered by a thick mist and riddles with holes and blank voids.

Very frustrating.

“How long was I out?” I asked with a sore throat and an even more sore voice.

“It’s been four hours since we carried you down from the attic. Five since the ritual ended” Replied Alarick from somewhere behind me in a very tired voice, as if the very act of thinking words was an arduous challenge.

I looked around, searching for the only missing person on the list and found her all huddled in a corner of the room, sleeping on what was basically a fort of pillows. Snoring even. Quite loudly too.

“How about the ritual?-” I asked as I began to painfully rise from the couch, feeling more tired than ever, aching with an old man’s pain deep into my bones. My voice was still groggy and raspy but I made an effort to lower it so as not to wake the sleeping lady “- Did it work?”

“It did, yes-” Replied the tired elf with a sigh. He was sitting at the table, his eyes fixated on a piece of parchment written in elvish blood-red letters. Alarick, raising his eyes from the parchment upon seeing me approaching him, took a glass from the kitchen counter and a pitcher filled with water. As he sat back down he filled both our glasses and pointed at the chair resting in front of him “- Alas, I bear no good news” He continued as I sat down.

“Explain” I simply answered after gulping down the entire glass in one sitting before the elf refilled it.

“The ritual worked but as I feared, my power wasn’t enough to reach the other lands beyond the sea…I cannot tell where your father is. All I can give you is the certainty that he does not reside in the elven and dwarven lands” Alarick said with a hint of sadness and remorse as he clutched the sleeve of his brown tunic.

“...I see-” I replied after several seconds of thought “- At least that something”

“There is something else” The elf added as I was about to reach for the jug. His expression was serious and doubtful. Whether he was doubting whether to speak of it to me or his own words I couldn’t tell, but whatever it was weighted heavily on his mind.

“Is that something about my father? About my family? A friend?” I asked. My words rushing out of my mouth faster the more thoughts of danger filled my brain.

“None of those…-” The elf said “- During the ritual, a great spirit joined, the likes of which I never heard or felt. Its power and presence were overwhelming. She came for a moment only but I suspect that was the reason why you felt the effects of the ritual more than anyone. Your circuits are much more developed, much more reactive. The spirit’s presence must have been even heavier for you”

“I don’t remember any of it…it’s…hard to remember anything” I answered as I struggled to dig through my recent memories for something similar to what the elf described.

“I doubt you would and it is better this way. Powers such as hers are better avoided. Brewing storms of raw power around bound to swallow those in their wakes…Anyway, she spoke to me, about you specifically” Alarick said as his voice took a strange solemn tone.

“About me? What did it say?” I asked with curiosity and doom birthing strange ideas in my mind.

“She said you need to look for ‘dragon tears’. That is all she said. No mention of reason or anything else. Only ‘dragon tears’” Alarick replied as the strange solemn tone slowly disappeared from his voice.

“Dragon tears…dragon tears-” I repeated out loud in an attempt to understand what it meant and whether I had ever heard of its mention, then, something poked my brain. Something Alarick said that seemed completely normal when he spoke it but now feeling more and more wrong the more I lingered on that thought. Then it clicked “- Wait a second. Did you just say ‘she’ and ‘her’? A spirit? Why did you refer to a spirit with ‘she’ and ‘her’?!”