Strickler sat on Barbara's bed and away from prying eyes. It hadn't been any trouble to sneak the book out from the various piles before anyone could stumble upon it. The temptation to open the cover and flip through the pages was a palpable feeling but the dread in his gut was equal in its weight.
He heeded the warning of his instincts.
The book of Ga-Huel. It was a unique relic that held the complete history of trolls and Gumm-Gumms; but, what set it apart from other records was the very thing that held him back and tempted him all at once. An unseen hand updated the pages, with passages appearing even before the events they detailed came to pass. Now, though, he had witnessed first hand that not everything it said could be trusted for inevitable. The soft sheets beneath him were proof enough that nothing was set in stone.
He had acted off script and the future was already rippling forward with the momentum of his choices.
His past reliance on the book had cost him and he was determined not to fall again. It had told him Gunmar would be free and so he had not even questioned whether the dark troll would return and triumph. His trust in the book's certainty had stopped him from siding with the Trollhunter until he hadn't been given a choice in the matter. Most recent in its offenses, it had given him the idea to use the Soul Binding spell that had backfired so spectacularly. He didn't need to be burned any further to have learned his lesson.
While there had been countless times the book had been proven right, with the clarity of hindsight and his newfound distrust, he was certain those events had only come to pass because he and his had worked to assure that they would happen. The Order had been given orders and their execution kept the book from being wrong. Those rare times that events had gone differently, the original prediction vanished.
The missing entries really should have been the first indication that things were not as they appeared. He had been so focused on meeting goals rather than looking to the bigger picture that certain details he should have questioned were pushed to the side or glossed over in favor of weaving his own ambitions.
The book had never been treated as an itinerary, had not been consulted daily or even weekly, but its quiet foreknowledge had always felt like an ace in the hole for the Janus Order.
Until now.
Part of him wanted to burn the book but he was afraid of what the consequences could be if he did. In the same way he had warned Draal off of destroying the Inferna Copula, he was hesitant to apply force to a magic he did not fully understand. At this point, the best thing he could think of was to hide it.
Reaching under Barbara's bed, he pulled out one of the suitcases he had recently purchased. Among some of his more personal treasures that had been salvaged from his apartment, it held a few changes of clothes and now it would hold this secret as well. He stuffed the Book of Ga-Huel into the bottom of the case with extreme prejudice as he piled the clothes and mementos over top of it.
As he closed the case, he thought he heard his name whispered on the soft whoosh of air following the lid coming down. He quickly locked the clasps.
The hairs at the back of his neck stood on end as he shoved the suitcase back under the bed.
He didn't like the idea of keeping it so close, and especially not in Barbara's room, but he was currently lacking in options. He didn't trust others to know about it, so until he could think of a nice hole to bury it in, he felt it best that it be within his easy reach so as to guard it.
His phone let out a chime and he jumped, nearly having to fight the impulse to clutch his chest. He let out a self-depreciating laugh at how tightly wound he was and forced himself to relax as he dug into his pocket to read the text.
I'm getting off early. Thank heaven for small mercies. Feet are killing me. See you soon.
His smile turned soft and he tucked his phone away again to go and see about having food on the table for when Barbara made it through the door.
O-_-o-_-O
"By Deya! I think we've finally found something!" Blinky enthused as he lumbered up the stairs.
"I find it amusing how you treat her like some kind of deity. By Deya this, Deya's Grace that," Otto commented mildly from the dinning room, turning his attention away from staring a hole into the back of Jim's head- as if he could will the food to arrive sooner.
Walter rolled his eyes as he set the table and poked the other changeling with a fork when he passed him. Otto swatted at him ineffectively and was ignored.
Blinky continued on as if he hadn't heard anything. He plopped an old book onto the table without any mind for the dishes Walter had meticulously aligned and ignored the glare Walter tossed his way. Instead, he flipped back to the pages that had him so excited.
"Here! This time there's no mention of needing full petrification! And unlike the one that called for a volcanic flower harvested on a night of a new moon, the required items seem easy enough to obtain."
Jim and Walter leaned over either side of the table to look and the changeling snorted, "Except that it requires the blade that dealt the wound. I don't suppose you have Angor Rot on speed-dial?"
Blinky waved a hand, "He can't have gotten far! There are tracking spells, I'm sure he can be found."
Otto rolled his eyes and said derisively, "Ja, because it was so easy the first time. And that was with him staying in one place! How long since he left? Over a week? This will not be an easy task."
"But it can be done!" Blinky shot back, entirely undeterred.
"Honey! I'm home!" Barbara's voice rang from the front door in a sing-song imitation of an old sitcom, interrupting those at the table before a full argument could occur.
Walter hesitated a moment and looked to Jim, unsure if she meant one of the two of them with her term of endearment or if she was merely following the quote. He crinkled his nose at that train of thought and at the idea of being called honey. He'd leave that nickname to Jim.
Thumps from the basement heralded the arrival of Draal, as if summoned by the return of Barbara. Walter smirked to himself as the crowd shuffled around the dinning room in what was becoming an all too familiar scene. He had never been the social sort, and even now he felt more like an outside observer to this odd domesticity. They were a motley lot, to be sure, and most of the time they barely felt like allies. Yet, somehow despite that, they'd come to resemble something like a family to him.
He had already acknowledged to himself that he wished to have Barbara and Jim within that role, but the assorted hangers-on were an unexpected but not entirely unwelcome addendum.
"Walt?"
"Hm?" Lost to introspection, he had missed the question Barbara had asked.
"I asked if you thought this would work," she said, gesturing to the book Blinky had yet to remove from the table. She had obviously been filled in on the details while he had been distracted.
"Since it's been determined that we are not going to use the easiest cure by simply waiting for the curse to run its full course; then yes, this has been the best option presented thus far and has the highest chance of success."
Jim nodded, seemingly full of renewed determination, "Okay. What do we need?"
"We need to get the roast out of the oven before it gets dry," Otto complained, settling back into his chair and looking entirely unimpressed. Jim jolted and then darted to the kitchen.
Otto adjusted his glasses further up his nose, and added in a more causal tone, "Any location spell we might use is going to need a Hag-Stone."
O-_-o-_-O
Nomura held her breath as another troop of goblins scampered by her hiding spot.
The Darklands offered next to nothing by way of foliage but so far she had been lucky enough to find several patches of the smelly weeds that bore fruit. Like everything else in this forsaken realm, they tasted foul and did not satisfy but they had held off starvation for this long, she would not complain.
As soon as the last goblin was out of sight, she stood to her full height and stretched. Her joints complained loudly at the motion but she ignored the discomfort and started plucking the shriveled purple fruits that would sustain her for another day in this hellscape.
Changelings were made to adapt and survive. She would not let this place break her.