RISEN || The Keepers of Astraela #2

11.1 || MYSTIA

|| CHAPTER 11.1 ||
|| MYSTIA ||

THE REST OF THE NIGHT was silent. Moonlight streamed through the grimy attic window, glinting off the bottle of ashes in Mystia's hands with an icy hue. She turned it in her hands, inspecting the runes, the carvings, the ashes... anything she thought might have given her an advantage in discovering how her creation could house all but a sliver of his soul—and where the rest of it may lie.

Would it keep him from being resurrected? Or would only part of his true self return?

She had no idea. There were too many variables that could have resulted in failure, or worse, losing her dearest friend for far longer than a thousand years.

A sharp creak came from the pull-down stairs, but Mystia didn't move. She knew she should have hidden the bottle in her pack to conceal any evidence that she'd slipped it from Eva's satchel as soon as the house had fallen asleep. But, for once, she didn't care if she was caught. If she had truly failed, no amount of mind-breaking theories would make a difference.

"So... where'd you stash the bodies?"

Finally, Mystia turned to find Bobbi peeking above the attic hatch. Though her friend tried to appear impressed and confident, the quick tapping of Bobbi's fingers against the metal railing showed her nerves. She was no fool to Mystia's standoffish behavior.

But, while Mystia longed to keep up an aura of anger, of distrust, of everything she believed she should have felt... she couldn't.

"And spoil the surprise?" asked Mystia. "What's the fun in that, love?"

It would certainly be a fun surprise for the first person to open the spare luggage stored within the attic. It'd taken a good amount of time to dismember the home's former—and decomposing—occupants, strip them for parts, and stuff them inside the brightly-colored containers. It would take even more time to assemble what was left of their small dog: a breed she had never seen in Astraela. The small animal had clearly been adorably fluffy before its insides were ripped out and torn to shreds. Now, its discarded corpse had been so matted with blood that it was nearly unrecognizable as anything but a lump of flesh and splintered bone. But, with proper time and patience, she supposed the creature would make a fine companion for her undead fox, Skell.

Emrys would have loved it. He'd always had a soft spot for the pets Thana told them about from her dream escapes to Earth.

It almost made her want to discard the animal, to discard what would've been an awful reminder of him every time she looked at it. But she couldn't bring herself to get rid of it.

Bobbi climbed into the attic, brushing the dust from her well-worn jeans. "And you made it smell better. I couldn't even pass the back hall until tonight."

Mystia tried to smile as she gestured to the lit candles lining the attic floor. It'd taken at least fifteen to disguise the smell of weeks' old decomposition, but it was a task well worth the time. Instead of decay, the attic had been filled with the lovely scent of citrella: an herb without any inebriating effects or evocation of emotion. It was a light, yet sharp scent that still filled the southeastern coast of Astraela, planted along the coastline to attract fish for the locals.

As much as she would have loved a demula candle that would fill her mind with the same pleasurable fuzz that calmed Emrys' anxiety, it was not a night for intoxication. She needed clarity.

"Can't have you all gassed out of safe housing," she said.

Bobbi sat beside her, and the beams of moonlight washed over her soft features. As she folded her arms across her raised knees, her eyes lingered on the bottle in Mystia hands.