Wyvern Tails and Phoenix Feathers

The Unspeakable Words, Chapter 5 - Eloise

Eloise was prepared for the resurrection of Oran Highwater to be a series of trials. She knew they would be difficult, especially those that involved magic or magical creatures. Knowing the Arcaén was not her skill set. She was a warrior, she was speedy, and she was clever. They were the only tools she could rely on in the face of abject horror.

She heard Cirrus shout something as she ran towards Bryn, something in the mystic language she could never understand. Her drawn axes became imbued with warm white. It cut through the black tendrils snagging at Bryn like hot blades through butter. It was good to have the Archmage on her side.

She helped Bryn to his feet and watched the tendrils shorten, noticing for the first time that they were fingers on large shadowy palms. Her Aunt Clarella had told her about the behaviors of shades as a girl. They used their hands to make shadow puppets and tell stories of the trauma. This shade had an agenda and was far more powerful.

The individual fingers shapeshifted into ten robed figures holding halberds. Eloise didn't wait for them to attack. She struck first, tearing through them with whatever enchantment Cirrus provided for her. Bryn battled carefully at her side with bursting flares to disrupt the darkness.

The hooded men fell into the floor and retreated beneath Eloise's feet. She followed the shadows to Cirrus and finally to a giant creepy mask at the end of the hall. It had a wide mouth dripping with blood. More unsettling was that the mask was worn by a giant shadow body that was using its arms to claw its way along the walls towards them.

If Cirrus was afraid, he disguised it with anger. He held out a hand, drew a symbol in the air, and shouted.

"Darkness, I cast thee out!"

At first, Eloise couldn't tell if Cirrus was successful. The shade responded by stopping in its tracks, merely paces away from them. It flinched. Then, it opened its mouth and sprayed them all with blood, flesh, and chunks of bone.

She barely saw it withdraw. It moved backwards rapidly like a spider into its den. The unnatural darkness fled the hall; the furnace and the sconces provided an expected amount of light. Cirrus combed blood from his mustache.

"What happened?" she asked him. "Where's Narah?"

Cirrus gazed at her then sadly to the viscera all over the floor. Eloise understood. Narah was everywhere, dotting her skin and grouting the tile.

"She knew she would die here," said Cirrus. "In dreams turned nightmares."

In hindsight, it was obvious. Narah was mourning her own death from the moment they arrived. Yet she wondered how long Cirrus was aware of the circumstance and what, if anything, he had done to prevent her demise. She wiped her forehead and showed Cirrus the gore on her hand.

"Like this? Did she know it would be like this?"

"Foretelling dreams are rarely literal," said Cirrus. "I'd gather Narah knew only she would die and yet she still chose to bring us here."

"At least she was given a choice to be brave," said Eloise. "Unlike Sir Tristane."

It wasn't lost on Eloise that as powerful as Caona was, it wasn't the necromancer that had killed Sir Tristane. He was marked to die by the creature Cirrus called an omenaiad. He was killed by some swinging log he might have otherwise avoided. She decided Cirrus likely knew he would die, but let him enter the tomb anyway. It's who the Archmage was. He put the mission before the man. Luckily, in the resurrection of Oran, the man was the mission.

Still, Eloise couldn't help but shake the feeling that Narah's death was pointless and avoidable.

"How do we kill this thing?" she huffed.