The Wilting Ballad

18

"Summon the Foulspawn children. Summon the Nine Goners. Summon all that you can and sent them to Moss Island." Said the Ill-Fated One residing in Jerold's body, seated in the Silver Seat of Shan. "From there we shall watch the changing of the world. I have set Hal'odmyrtu at the heart of all hearts. The Rain shall come."

He leaned closer to His four lieutenants bowing before Him, blood dribbled down His chin. The blood of Alfaus. "And if what the Shīza is saying is to be believed... for our intention to transpire, killing the girl is essential." Pushing Himself up, He stumbles, then maintains composure. "Let this be your new task. Kill the Seer girl called Jejtsu Revenstar."

The Foerli nods and strides out the hall. Leaving memories of humanity vanquished, leaving only the cold unforgiving nature of the entity whose living body was once called Darmien Odlore. Now the Ill-Fated One. A twisted thing that represents all that is Ill in Iruil.

He mused upon what was revealed to Him by the captured Shīzas and His loyal Foerli and the very girl He saw in the bleak redness between death and life. Where one sees Glimpse.

If there is one thing that can stop His prophecy to be unfulfilled, He fears it was the hybrid girl. He ran through all that's taught to him and all He has learned during his years of wandering as a shapeless ghost.

He tries hard, with all intelligence in His possession but could not, much to His dissatisfaction, remember when there was ever a hybrid brand of three magic. Leafsinging and Steamcalling and Seeing. All in one person. A person whose relations are unknown. A person who has begged and steal. A person who the Shīzas took pity on and make her their own. A person who became a respected Star. Fairly easy, too.

It frustrated Him more upon concluding that she might very well be the first Threemix. History has often seen two, Steamcalling and Seeing, or Leafsinging and Steamcalling, or Sealing and Leafsinging but never three. A thought came to Him that the leader of His Foerli was too a mixture of three. But brushed the thought aside since Kaionira cannot use Leafsinging and Steamcalling since her resurrection, only Ill can she use.

He bought down Jerold's balled fist to the Silver Seat. For all He knew, maybe the girl was the combination of all four magic that isn't Ill. Perhaps she's one who can Seal as well. He felt the thumping of Jerold's heart and He hated it. Should there be other choices, He would be rid of this body, toss it down the Swart Lake, and be done with it, but alas, He needs it to influence the people.

The petty, little people. They disgusted Him, more so than this body. He hoisted the rotting body of the pike-headed guard on His left with one hand and threw it, spattering on the wall. Every information He's heard since the recovery of Hal'odmrtyu had been disturbingly bad. And it angers Him.

Anger is the key to losing confidence, after losing confidence, comes doubt, after doubt came failure. Something someone said to Him once, when He was only Darmien. He hated whoever it is that says that.