Author's note: I know the last chapter left my readers with a lot of questions, but trust me on this. You will get your answers in time.
Chapter Twenty-Five
It Follows
The life was drained from Shanoa's desperate sprint. She came to a stop before that damned spot of earth where both women had stood just a fraction of a second ago; now transported to a place far beyond her grasp. The Glyphs in her hands dissipated as her entire body slumped under a sudden wave of defeat. The warrior stared down at the empty ground. She could still feel the air snap in response to the talisman's powerful spell and a few bright flashes of electric light burned near her feet.
That move in particular was outright cruel. There was no way she could reach Ecclesia before the deadline that Aurelia had set. Not even the wings of Volaticus could save her. The distance was too great, and flying was physically taxing in its own right.
A stray shadow on the ground caught Shanoa's eye and she looked up in search of its source. A scrap of paper floated in the air above her head. The warrior's hand darted out and snatched it before the wind could carry it off. Her heart began to race as she inspected the curious article. It was another talisman – like the one Aurelia had just used – dipped in the familiar red dye and marked by a series of numbers scrawled on its surface in black ink. At first glance the numerical sequence appeared to be nothing more than gibberish, but Shanoa recognized them. They were coordinates. Not to Ecclesia, that would be too convenient, but to Wygol.
So that's her game.
The talismans were rare due to how difficult they were to craft. The ingredients required to make the special dye were hard to come by and anything less than precision during the mixing process would render the end product useless. Once the paper was prepared the caster had to invoke a complex spell while writing the proper coordinates. Determining that last detail was a peculiar art; the numbers corresponded to some invisible grid that supposedly covered the Earth and figuring out the correct sequence often meant one had to visit the location in question. Shanoa had learned the numbers that would bring her to Wygol, but such talismans were too aggravating to create on her own. Her time was better spent elsewhere.
Aurelia had been to the village. She knew enough about the place to identify the odd sequence for what it was. Why there? Why not give Shanoa a talisman that would bring her directly to the fortress? There was something else contained in this; some message that the warrior was too distraught to discern at the present moment.
Her fingers wrapped around the talisman and she clutched it to her chest. This small scrap of paper was the lifeline that would take her back home. It was the only thing that could ensure she'd reach Laura in time.
Beads of sweat collected on the back of her neck and she turned to look at the burning tree. The warrior paused when she saw Tatiana standing a few paces behind her. The older woman stared in muted silence at the place where her daughter should have been standing. Tatiana's expression conveyed the same brand of distress that clouded Shanoa's thoughts, but the warrior maintained a calm outward persona. She took care to remind herself that this was merely the prelude. The stakes were high, but nothing had been decided as of yet.
"How much did you see?" Shanoa asked. Tatiana did not look at her.
"Enough," she said in a hollow voice.
"I'm going after her."
"I know." There was a worrisome pause as a few tears trickled down the healer's face. "That woman's going to kill her."
"I won't let that happen. I'll get to her in time." Shanoa needed the insistence as much as Tatiana did. The healer looked at her then; her eyes glazed over with a film of unshed tears.
"What makes you think she's going to wait for you?" There was a desperate hope in Tatiana's voice. For a brief moment Shanoa wondered that herself, but the ever-present strain of internal logic that analyzed the world around her overrode the warrior's emotional misgivings.
"There's something specific she wants from me," Shanoa said. "Whatever it is, Aurelia doesn't seem to think she can get it if Laura's dead. Otherwise I have no doubt she would have killed her already." Her fingers clenched around the talisman in her hand. "That's the key thing to remember when dealing with members of Ecclesia: nothing is ever straightforward. They have an overt fondness for plotting. Aurelia does want 'retribution', after all, and it seems she's acting in accordance to some sort of plan."
"This has to be a trap," Tatiana said what had been obvious from the beginning.
"I agree, but Aurelia didn't leave me with much of a choice. I have to go back to the fortress." She held up the talisman for Tatiana to see. "At least she was gracious enough to lend me a faster means of travel."
"I haven't seen one of those in years," the healer said as her eyes grew wide. "That explains the teleportation."
"Is it safe to come out now?" The pair turned when they heard Trevor yell from inside the shop. He stood looking out the broken window; his face twisted into a grimace as he took in the full extent of the carnage. Fenris had started to bark again in confusion and agitation.
"Just be careful," Shanoa called back. Trevor opened the front door, but Fenris pushed him aside as he ran past. The large dog bounded to the spot where the two women had disappeared. He sniffed the ground and bared his teeth as a growl rumbled in his throat. Shanoa shared his aggressive sentiment.
Trevor gasped as he stood before the burning tree. He vigorously shook his head, but the sight remained unchanged by his denial.
"Oh God, no…" he said under his breath.
"We need to put out that fire before it spreads to the nearby buildings," Tatiana said as she turned to Shanoa. The warrior understood her implication. None of her Glyphs were associated with liquid water, but ice would be able to quench the flames. Vol Grando's area of effect was not large enough to cover the entire tree, nor could it be invoked in rapid succession. Torpor, however, did not suffer that limitation. She slipped the talisman underneath the binding of one of her sleeves for safekeeping. Once her hands were free Shanoa summoned the Glyph's crystal spheres into both palms.
"Stay back," she said as she marched towards the inferno. She felt the beads of sweat that had formed on her face and neck roll down her skin as she got closer to the blazing heat. Shanoa stopped a few yards away and threw one of the spheres at the base of the tree. The crystal burst on impact and a pillar of umber-hued ice erupted from its core. The ice clung to the trunk, but rapidly began to melt under the intense heat. Shanoa threw the second sphere as a third was summoned into her free hand. The crystal burst a bit higher on the trunk and the resulting ice built upon the already present crystals.
Shanoa hurled a series of crystal spheres in quick succession; her relentless assault did not give the Glyph a chance to melt in the fire. Torpor consumed the birch tree until it was covered in a solid layer of translucent, earthen ice. The warrior's arms hung limp at her sides when the task was finished. The heat of the extinguished fire subsided and was replaced by the chill of frigid cold that emanated from the mystical ice.
"Just what are you?" Trevor asked in a shaky voice. It seemed that – despite her clear disinterest in causing him harm – the man still harbored a nagging suspicion that he should fear the warrior. She sighed at the question.
"Sometimes I wonder that myself," she muttered. Neither of her companions commented on the statement, though that did not rule out the possibility that they had heard her. Shanoa dismissed the lingering question and turned around. "I can't stay here," she said to Tatiana. Baia was stifling by nature. She couldn't think in this place. Both of those detriments were amplified by the fact that this village was too far away from her destination. The sooner she left the better. "I need to get back to Wygol and figure out a course of action."
"Not yet," Tatiana said, "I have to give you something first." Shanoa gave her a curious look.
"What?" she asked. There was a pause as the healer shook her head.
"It'll be easier if I show you."
Trevor's attention remained fixed on the now frozen tree. The tears in his eyes and prominent grimace made clear just how upset he was by the sight.
"That tree is as old as this village," the man said. His voice cracked about halfway through the sentence. Tatiana gave him an attempt at a warm smile, though her own emotional turmoil made that difficult to achieve.
"I'll see if I can do anything to save it," the healer said. "I don't make any promises, though."
"Thank you." Some of the tension seemed to melt from Trevor's expression at that assurance, though he still appeared overwhelmed by the means of which this damage was incurred. "What do I say to people when they ask what happened here?"
"Blame it on anonymous vandals." The immediacy of Tatiana's response indicated she had not thought of it on a whim. "They probably won't believe you, but it's easier to swallow than the truth."
"Right…" Trevor's eyes turned to regard Shanoa. Something soft gleamed in his green irises; an expression she seldom received from strangers outside the bounds of Wygol. "I'll pray for your success," he said with all sincerity. Shanoa was tempted to roll her eyes at the statement, but quelled the urge. Prayers would not ensure her victory. The divine played no part in this conflict; the outcome depended on her strength alone. Still, it was the sentiment that was important.
"I appreciate it," the warrior said.
"Come, it's best if we don't linger," Tatiana said as she tugged on Shanoa's arm. The warrior turned and followed the older woman as she walked towards the edge of the square.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"Back to my house." Tatiana did not say anything after that. They walked at a brisk pace while Fenris ran ahead of them down the dirt road. Shanoa did not make any attempt to break the tense silence. There was nothing to say. Both of them had been consumed by Aurelia's violent challenge to act and no words were needed to communicate the severity of what they faced.
Tatiana led her to the front door when they reached the house. She halted in the living room once all three of them were inside.
"Wait here," the healer said. She headed upstairs while Fenris stayed behind with Shanoa.
The warrior grew uneasy once she was left alone. Her entire body was taught with rigid tension and her nostrils flared as she breathed. Fenris walked up to her and slid his massive head underneath her hand. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she scratched behind his ears. The action did help ease her nerves a bit.
They waited as the few minutes dragged on into the equivalent of endless hours. Shanoa questioned how much longer she could bear to stay still when she heard the thud of heavy footsteps above her. Tatiana soon appeared on the balcony and descended down the staircase. In her hands she carried a small box of polished wood set with white ceramic inlays. It was a pretty thing that begged to be doted on at a less pressing time.
"I want to know the moment she's safe," Tatiana said as she neared Shanoa. "A letter would obviously take too long, so we'll have to use this."
The healer opened the box and Shanoa peered inside. A necklace lay upon the plush velvet lining of the interior. It was a simple piece of jewelry comprised of a large gold chain and a single pendant: an odd stone encased in a cube of glass and silver fixtures. At first glance the stone appeared to be an opal. The polished orb was black on the surface; the darkness a prelude to the burst of brilliant color within. The swirls of prismatic light were not stagnant, however. They were a moving, shifting mass; seemingly alive. It begged the question of whether this was a stone at all. It struck her more as an embryonic force contained within a man-made shell.
"What is it?" Shanoa asked.
"A crude communication device." Tatiana grasped the gold chain and lifted the curious necklace out of the box. "It's bonded to a copy that I keep hidden away. The two always maintain the same shape and outward appearance. If one is altered then the other conforms to match." The healer shrugged her shoulders. "It's only good for sending signals, but it'll do." She held it out for Shanoa and the warrior took the necklace with care. She cradled it in her hand, worried that she might accidentally break the precious artifact.
"How do I alter it?" she asked.
"I'm not going to tell you. The necklace will remain in its current form unless activated, and that's something that only Laura and I know how to do."
"I see," the warrior said with a nod, "that's how you'll know if she's safe."
"Precisely." A fleeting look of soul rendering dread crossed Tatiana's face. "And, in three days' time, if there is no change… well, that will serve as an answer too." Shanoa made her best attempt at a confident expression, but knew she came up short.
"Tatiana, I will save her." The warrior's voice managed a more convincing air of assurance.
"I have faith in you, I do, it's just." There was a somber pause as Tatiana turned away. "I keep losing her – in one way or another. Now I finally have a chance to put an end to this vicious cycle, but the universe still conspires to rip her away from me." She sounded on the brink of tears. "I can't bury another child. The thought alone is too much for me to bear." Shanoa's brow furrowed.
"Another?" she asked.
"Laura was the only one who made it." Tatiana's voice was burdened by a sorrow that extended farther than Shanoa could recall; past the years of her relatively short life and into an era fraught with repeated loss. "My womb feels like a curse in its own right. I bore many children, but they all died within me."
Laura had mentioned her parents' inability to produce siblings, but the warrior hadn't considered the potential circumstances surrounding those failures. This was more than unfair; it was downright brutal, and Shanoa was overcome by a surge of hatred for the conniving Shadow that sought to inadvertently bleed Tatiana's wounds dry. She opened her mouth to hurl some manner of curse about Aurelia, but the healer continued before the first syllable could leave her throat.
"You never get used to that kind of pain. Every loss weighed as heavy as the first one." There was a pause as a hollow sob echoed in the room. "Eventually, Abel and I stopped trying. He had every reason to leave me. I was not fit to ensure the survival of the Belmont legacy, but he stayed." A strange sort of happiness crept into Tatiana's voice. It was not enough to drown out her suffering, but it harkened to something beautiful amidst all that strife; an adoration that managed to withstand the test of time. "Because that big brute loved me."
Something shifted inside of Shanoa. Her hatred for Aurelia fell away as she beheld the momentarily forgotten reason why she pursued the path of a warrior. She would right this wrong. There would be retribution, but not the sort that Aurelia planned. Shanoa placed a comforting hand on Tatiana's shoulder and the healer slowly turned to face her. The older woman had cried; her cheeks streaked with what remained of her tears. The confidence that Shanoa failed to summon earlier surfaced then. It radiated from her as she felt it return: the light that had caused her foes to tremble at her feet.
She was the Morning Sun, and no mere Shadow could hope to eclipse her.
"I have slain the Dark Lord," Shanoa said in a voice that carried all her brilliance. "No human can succeed where Dracula himself failed. Aurelia will fall before my blade, and that victory will not come at the cost of yet another life."
The warrior watched something break behind Tatiana's eyes before she rushed forward and pulled Shanoa into a fierce hug. The sudden move startled the younger woman, but she did not offer any resistance. Instead she wrapped her arms around the healer and returned the embrace.
"You have a beautiful heart." Tatiana's voice was muffled as she spoke into the warrior's hair. "I'm truly blessed to have met someone like you." Shanoa felt Fenris sit down beside her and press his large head against her hip.
The distress she had felt just a short time ago was gone now. It was replaced by a familiar fire that coursed through her blood. There was an enemy to face, fates to be decided, and lives to save. It was thrilling in its own way. She'd learned to thrive on the anticipation of battle.
Tatiana relaxed her hold and stepped back. Shanoa slipped the necklace over her head before she retrieved the red talisman from where she had stowed it inside her bound sleeve.
"Is there anything else you need?" Tatiana asked. The warrior shook her head.
"No, most of what we brought can be easily replaced." Her lips curved into a bright smile. "Besides, I have a feeling we'll see each other again soon." The negative emotions that plagued Tatiana dissipated as the healer returned the smile with one of her own.
"Then I'll see you off."
The trio walked out the rear door and into the backyard. Tatiana and Fenris stood off to the side while Shanoa found an open patch of grass. She did not want anything nearby when the talisman's spell was cast as stray objects could be caught in the field of magic. The warrior planted her feet into the solid earth before she cast a final glance at the odd pair. Her eyes settled on Fenris.
"Take good care of her while I'm gone," Shanoa said. The large dog gave her what she swore was a large smile. His jaw hung open as his tongue lolled lazily out of his mouth; his relaxed upper lip covered his front teeth and eliminated the possibility of a snarl. A confident sparkle lit up his bright eyes. Tatiana laughed at her parting words. It was a welcome sound and Shanoa grinned as the healer patted her dog behind his head.
"He always does," Tatiana said.
It was the best goodbye she could have wished for under the circumstances. Now, it was time for her to return home. Shanoa took a deep breath. She knew what would come next, but she did not allow herself a chance to linger on that thought and tore the talisman in two.
There was a brief instant where the warrior glimpsed the initial anomaly. The talisman was destroyed, but the tear itself still hung in the air; a ruptured layer of what she perceived to be reality. It shimmered before her, but she lost sight of it in the following flash of white light.
The light encompassed her as she winced against the blinding flare. Shanoa received one final glance of Tatiana's smiling face before her vision filled with white. There was a pause that lasted the span of a heartbeat. She waited for it, her body tensed in anticipation, and then she lost all semblance of touch as she was ripped away from Baia and hurled into some in-between plane of existence.
Shanoa's cry of agony was swallowed up by the void as she was torn apart. The matter that constructed her physical body split into a stream of countless shards and was carried off to some destination that she knew, but couldn't quite remember amidst the dismembering. All that existed was this shift. She was everywhere and nowhere, devoid of mass or form, unfettered by both time and space.
Then – as suddenly as it began – the shift was over. The Earth came back to greet her as her body fell into its proper place. Shanoa collapsed when her feet touched the ground; her reconstructed legs unable to support her. The warrior's chest heaved as she lay against a cold, hard surface.
That was another reason why she never sought to create the talismans herself. They did not offer a desirable mode of travel.
Shanoa tried to look around, but she was still blinded by that white glare. Did the spell take her to Wygol? She prayed she hadn't misread the numerical sequence. Altering the coordinates would have been a cruel joke, but she couldn't dismiss the possibility. She knew so little of Aurelia and, consequently, what sort of schemes the woman would be likely to indulge.
"Shanoa!" A familiar voice reached her ears, but she could not identify it through the haze that clouded her senses. A few moments passed before she was rolled onto her back by a pair of rough hands. The warrior groaned and stared up at the open sky as her vision began to focus in the bright sunlight. Three faces hovered over her, though she couldn't determine who they belonged to.
"Well I'll be damned," a deeper voice said. There was a small gasp.
"You shouldn't use bad language around us!" The first voice again. "We're just kids!"
"You might LOOK the part of a child, but I know better than to trust appearances." Relief washed over her as Shanoa recognized the familiar speech pattern. She didn't need the aide of her eyes to recognize these onlookers. She was distracted as something prodded her in the stomach.
"Hey, Lady-!"
"Let her REST for a minute, boy! What she just went through is NOT a pleasant experience."
"Like you'd know." Serge's voice dripped with a sneer. There was a flash of blurry movement above her.
"Sure, MAKE FUN OF THE VILLAGE IDIOT! It's not like that trope hasn't been played out!" Abram leaned towards Serge and the boy backed away a bit in response. "Look, kid, I've tried some WEIRD shit in my life. I've seen things you wouldn't even believe."
"You swore again," Anna said in a soft, non-confrontational voice. Despite her attempt at delicacy the comment still caused Abram to groan in annoyance.
"For the love of God, if this is any indication of how all children behave then I am just going to CUT OFF my balls and BE DONE WITH IT."
To Shanoa's great relief the universe finally settled back into place and her vision cleared. Anna, Serge, and Abram did not notice the change as they were too caught up in the tension that threatened to erupt between them. Something shifted on top of her chest and Shanoa looked down to investigate. Tom sat perched on her breast piece, watching her with attentive eyes. The cat meowed when he noted her cognizance.
"Nice to see you too," the warrior said in kind. At the sound of her voice the trio's attention turned to Shanoa. A broad smile formed on Serge's face.
"Lady!" The boy grabbed her wrist and attempted to pull her upright, but Abram yanked his hand away.
"She's perfectly capable of picking herself up," he said as an added emphasis.
"Come here, Tom." Anna scooped the cat in her arms and removed him from his perch atop Shanoa's chest. With that bit of added weight now alleviated the warrior slowly began to sit upright. A rush of blood shot to her head and she grimaced as her skull throbbed. The resulting dizziness almost made her fall over, but she steadied herself as the initial shock soon faded. They waited in silence as the warrior gathered herself. Shanoa closed her eyes for a moment, took a few deep breaths, and focused on the welcome comfort of solid ground beneath her. She was home, and with that development followed a renewed sense of vigor. She would reach Ecclesia in time.
"How did you know I was coming?" Shanoa asked. Abram made a strange face.
"Well…" His gaze fell to Anna. A small smile played on the warrior's lips.
"That should have been obvious," she said under her breath.
"A few minutes ago they showed up at my stand and INSISTED that I come 'meet you'," Abram said. "I didn't believe them at first. You couldn't have made the journey to that village AND BACK in such a short time, but these little brats can be rather persuasive when they want to be." Serge made a gruff sound and glared up at Abram; the boy's bottom lip protruded in an indignant pout.
"My sister isn't a brat!" His voice carried the bite of one insulted. "She's a clavorant!"
"Clairvoyant," Abram said as he rolled his eyes. Serge's pout morphed into a look of confusion.
"What?"
"That's the CORRECT pronunciation."
"Yeah, that's what I said." The boy had taken on a condescending tone; a tune that seemed to shatter the last of Abram's patience.
"IT'S NOT WHAT YOU SAID!"
"You know, Abram," Serge yelled in reply, though his volume could not hope to match that of a full grown man, "you're not as smart as you think you are!"
"Enough!" Shanoa's interjection killed their argument. The pair fell silent as the warrior climbed to her feet. Her knees wavered a moment and she almost stumbled, but Abram caught her with a surprisingly strong grip. He helped her stand the rest of the way and did not let go until her legs stopped trembling. There was a shift in the conversation as they beheld Shanoa's grave expression. The drive to bicker subsided under the realization that something was wrong. A beat of worried silence passed before they noted the obvious absence.
"Where's Laura?" Abram asked.
Shanoa could not suppress the mixture of pain and determination that crossed her face. Her expression settled into a frown as she pondered how to respond. Telling them about Aurelia would beg the question of why she deigned to take Laura hostage. That would require an explanation into subjects she wasn't sure how to put into words. How could she recount everything that had transpired since the start of their journey to Baia? Could she tell them about the significant turn in her relationship with Laura? Did she reveal the potential threat that Ecclesia still posed to those she held dear, present company included?
Anna gazed up at the warrior with an understanding beyond her years. Shanoa's eyes met hers and the warrior felt all her conflict spill forth in that simple shared look. Though, perhaps Anna had already known of these events. Such revelations were the girl's dual blessing and curse.
"The bad person took her," Anna said.
"Who?" Abram asked. Shanoa decided it was best not to avoid the issue.
"Laura was taken hostage by an old colleague of mine."
"What?!" Serge's mood immediately devolved into blind panic and his eyes grew wide with fear. "Where is she? Is she going to be okay?" Shanoa placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. The boy relaxed a bit at the reassuring touch.
"She will be, but I need to act quickly."
"You know," Abram said, "I don't consider myself to be the best judge of character, but you REALLY had some poor taste in friends before you found us."
"To be fair, I didn't associate with my former colleagues by choice. They were all I had, and I hope to soon be rid of whoever's left."
Shanoa fell silent and at last turned to look at her surroundings. They stood at the familiar junction that led into the village square. Jacob's general store was across the street flanked on the right by the healer's rickety stand. That explained why the children had enlisted Abram's help; he just happened to be nearby.
What now? She could reach the fortress before sunset if she traveled on foot; sooner if she took advantage of the various Glyphs at her disposal, and yet Shanoa found herself hesitant to embark. Logic managed to temper her initial urge to rush headlong into battle. She didn't know who or what would be waiting for her when she arrived at Ecclesia. Carelessness would only get her killed, and in turn seal Laura's fate.
Baia had offered little in the way of allies, but Wygol was overflowing with them. The people here would help her at a moment's notice. Shanoa quickly devised a plan of action and turned away from the center of town. She headed down the street at a brisk pace; her stride grew more confident with each step as the strength in her legs returned. Shanoa heard the telltale sound of feet slapping against the cobblestones as the trio rushed to catch up with her.
"Where are you going?" Abram asked as he came up alongside her.
"I need to see Eugen."
"HOLD ON!" The healer leapt in front of Shanoa to stop her advance. She ground to a halt before they collided. "Those spells do quite a number on a person's body." His eyes began to scan her exposed flesh. "I should check to make SURE you're in one piece after that bit of traveling you did." Shanoa smiled as she placed one of her hands on Abram's shoulder.
"I appreciate the concern, but I'm fine." She gently moved him aside and continued walking. He muttered something under his breath as he followed behind her. "If you're that concerned you can do an examination after I've spoken with Eugen."
"I don't think ANYONE has ever been so determined to speak with that man," Abram said. Shanoa glanced back at him with a quizzical look.
"Do you not get along with him, either?"
"Oh no." The healer shook his head. "Eugen treats me the same way he treats everyone else: with OVERWHELMING indifference." Shanoa understood that assessment of the blacksmith's character. She'd once thought the same thing.
"I'd try to look past his gruff exterior, if I were you," she said. "He's got a good heart buried somewhere underneath." Abram responded with a short bark of laughter.
"And THIS coming from the woman who only JUST LEARNED how to smile?" The jolly nature of his tone indicated that Abram had not meant it as an insult.
"No, I remembered how to smile." The warrior shot him a broad grin to prove her point. She noted how relaxed just being in Wygol made her feel. Minutes ago she'd been caught up in the emotional severity of her predicament, but now she engaged in friendly banter with ease. It served to feed the surge of confidence that blossomed within her.
"It's the SAME thing," Abram said. Shanoa rolled her eyes despite the fact that the healer could not see her expression.
"It's not the same thing," she said.
"It's really not the same thing," Anna repeated from further behind. Shanoa glanced behind her. Somehow the siblings had managed to keep up with her fast pace, though they lagged a bit due to their short legs. Abram groaned and threw his hands in the air.
"Scolded by a CHILD! What has my life come to?"
The resulting mirth was cut short as they reached the smithy. Shanoa decided to check the storefront first before she ventured into the forge. The children seemed excited – almost giddy – as they walked inside; Shanoa didn't spare the time to wonder about it. She spied Eugen immediately, his massive body towered above the piles of clutter around him. The blacksmith turned when he heard the distinctive bell clang and froze as his eyes settled on the siblings. Serge and Anna had become enamored with a wooden mannequin outfitted with a set of polished steel armor and their curious hands wandered all over the metal.
"I don't abide children in my shop," Eugen said in his distinctive calm, yet commanding voice. Serge was attempting to pull one of the gauntlets off the mannequin, but he ceased under Eugen's cold gaze.
"What?" the boy asked in what he tried to pass off as an innocent tone. "We're not doing anything wrong!"
"My merchandise is not for children." Eugen looked the boy over and Serge seemed to wince under his scrutiny. "One day you might grow up to be a man, and when that day comes I will allow you to peruse my selection, but that day is not today." The blacksmith's eyes cut to Abram. "Please escort them outside."
The healer gawked at his newfound responsibility and opened his mouth to object, but Shanoa cut him off with a slight shake of her head. Her eyes gleamed with a silent request; she needed to speak with Eugen alone. Abram swallowed and nodded in understanding. The healer grabbed the two children by the back of their shirts and ushered them towards the door.
"Hey, did I ever tell you about the time I made a cat EXPLODE?" Abram asked. Serge gave him an incredulous look.
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"DAMN IT, child, I am TRYING to distract you! Can you PLEASE just play along?" With that point established Abram managed to coax them outside. He gave Shanoa a parting, serious nod and closed the door behind them.
Stillness settled over the room as the near-frantic energy was dispersed in the trio's absence. She turned and met Eugen's steady gaze.
"What happened?" he asked after a long moment. Shanoa almost smiled at the question. The blacksmith's keen attentiveness was not to be underestimated. He could see everything with just a glance, and he spoke candidly of what he knew. She admired that about him. There were no secrets where Eugen was concerned; he stated his mind, and to hell with what you thought about him afterwards. It was a refreshing honesty that she'd come to accept as a rare trait. It was what first endeared the blacksmith to her, and she was grateful for it now. She didn't have to skirt around the subject at hand.
Shanoa decided to repay blunt honesty in kind. She recounted the events of this turbulent day: Aurelia's appearance, her connection to Shanoa, and the woman's ultimatum. It all spilled forth in a flurry of explanation. Eugen's expression remained set in his characteristic stoicism. Not once did it falter. Not even when the warrior revealed the dire peril Laura was in.
"I see," Eugen said. "Was there any particular reason why this woman chose to take Laura hostage as opposed to anyone else?"
Shanoa paused as she wrestled with a reply. Did she divulge the truth or attempt to dodge the question? How would Eugen react to the nature of their relationship? How would anyone in Wygol react? She'd been so preoccupied with fending off Baia's inhabitants that she'd ignored the possibility of encountering hostility at home. It was not something that they could keep secret for very long. The issue was bound to present itself regardless of what she said now.
And yet such thoughts did not carry the influx of fear she'd expected. If anything it seemed rather silly to fret over the idea of community rejection. The people here were not prone to such petty squabbles. If she was wrong, well, there was only one way to find out.
"Yes," Shanoa said as she threw all semblance of pretense to the wind, "because I love her."
Silence followed the reveal, and, still, Eugen's expression did not change. The lapse should have felt uncomfortable, but it didn't. Something about the blacksmith's demeanor made every pause feel natural to her.
"What if you were to fail?" he asked. It was nowhere near the response she'd anticipated, and a possibility that she was loath to consider. "What if, despite your efforts, Laura died? What would you do then?" The answer to that question came with surprising ease.
"It wouldn't alter my course. I'd continue to fight; for her and for everyone else I care about." Shanoa was confident of that fact. Her bold determination – the trait that spurred her to infiltrate Dracula's castle – had only grown stronger during her subsequent emotional revival. If she experienced such profound loss again it would only solidify her resolve. "I know what it's like to lose everything, and I know that it's not a death sentence. There's beauty to be found in the darkest of places. If she died – God forbid – I'd keep fighting until I found another source of beauty, no matter how long it took. Nothing could ever match her brilliance, but I'd find it."
Something played across Eugen's face; the first crack in his stoic exterior. She tried to place the emotion, and – much to her surprise – could only describe it as approval.
"What was the given deadline?" he asked. "Three days?" The warrior nodded. "I only need one."
She could have taken that as her cue to leave, but intrigue held her back. She didn't want to end the conversation there. It raised a question that she needed to ask before the moment passed. She opened her mouth to speak, but Eugen headed her off.
"What makes you think it's wrong?" he asked.
"I don't, but other people do."
"Everything is offensive to someone." A slight frown tugged at his lips. Was he disappointed with her response? "That fact should never stop you from doing what you know is right."
"It doesn't, but I do care what the people of this village think of me." She smiled in relief. "It's good to know that you don't share some of the negative opinions I've been exposed to these past few days." Eugen scoffed and shook his head.
"There's no room for that kind of baseless hatred in Wygol. I'd assumed you'd seen enough to know that by now."
"I've never stirred the waters in quite this fashion."
"True, but you're missing the point." He reached over to a nearby table and picked up a small dagger. The silver blade had been polished until the metal surface shone with enough brilliance to act as a crude mirror. It was pretty to look at, but the engraving near the handle led Shanoa to believe that it was not one of Eugen's creations. The blacksmith did not take to marking his work; instead he opted for the quality to speak for itself. "No one comes to a small village like this for the view. We've all got our demons, though it's not obvious at first glance."
Without warning he raised the dagger and slammed the flat of the blade against the edge of the table. The metal snapped and the broken piece clattered to the floor.
"You have to look deeper." Eugen tossed the brittle weapon aside as he leveled his gaze at the attentive warrior. "You saw that with Laura, but it took time. You needed the motivation to look outside of yourself. I knew what that girl was running from the moment I first laid eyes on her. Nikolai called it, 'the bane of being unclean'." He shook his head at the startled expression in Shanoa's eyes. "He didn't say that in condemnation, mind you, but out of sympathy.
"Laura never looked twice at the men who passed through our village. They held no fascination for her, but the women? There were rare instances where I'd see that gleam in her eyes as they lingered on some attractive female stranger. Abundant with a painful yearning for something she couldn't have." He looked away for a moment. "Almost breaks your heart just to think about it."
"Wait, Nikolai knows?" Shanoa asked.
"He knows all his children, and that includes the demons they brought with them." Eugen nodded towards the window. Abram, Serge, and Anna had crossed to the other side of the street. The siblings watched Abram in amusement as he acted out some outlandish story complete with exaggerated physical comedy. "Those kids out there don't carry much baggage with them, but their mother? She was ostracized in her hometown after she gave birth to two children out of wedlock. Both of them sired by a man who managed to escape social scrutiny. 'Bastards' they called them, an ugly name to be burdened with. Wygol offered refuge from that spite and a place to start anew.
"Abram." Eugen paused as the man in question faked a punch to his own face and collapsed on the ground. "Now he's a peculiar one. Some might call him a genius, but a genuine strain of madness holds him back. Dealing with him takes patience and a kind – but firm – hand; things that no one but Nikolai ever bothered to give."
Shanoa recalled Abram's distress at the theatrical performance and his erratic behavior the next day. She wondered how that fit into this new spin on the narrative, but didn't want to interrupt. The blacksmith had her captivated.
"Then there's Monica, though her particular struggles are obvious even to the casual observer. She'll flinch if you display the mere hint of anger. It doesn't matter if it's directed at her or not." A legitimate frown at last formed on Eugen's face. "I've seen that kind of behavior before; she's anticipating a blow. I don't know who her tormentor was, but they did a thorough job of tearing down her sense of self-worth." The conversation faltered as Eugen refused to speak more on the subject. He just stared off into the distance with a peculiar look in his eyes.
"And what about you?" Shanoa asked. The blacksmith's eyes cut to her for a moment.
"Pardon?"
"As you said, everyone has demons." She cocked her head to the side. "I doubt you're the exception to that rule." Eugen's frown faded and was replaced by something that almost constituted a smirk.
"You are a curious one," he said in a soft voice. The silence that followed managed to make her feel uncomfortable. She was tempted to take back the question, but Eugen turned, walked to the window, and stared out at the children. They didn't notice him; their faces brimming with joy as Abram flailed on the ground. There was a shift in Eugen as he watched them. An unexpected surge of longing that escaped from somewhere deep inside his soul.
"I'm not the type you'd peg to be a father." Despite this newfound wave of emotion Eugen's voice retained its usual pitch and tempo. "That would require a woman to have some manner of romantic interest in me, and I've never been the most pleasant company. I am what I am: a rough edged man who doesn't care for the social graces that people enforce to restrict free thought. Yet – despite all odds – there was a woman who found something in me worth loving, and I grew." He gulped. "Fond of her in turn.
"We had a son: a tall, strong boy. Took after his father in almost every way except where personality was concerned. He was driven, almost to the point of arrogance, fueled by the desire to leave his mark upon the world." Eugen shook his head. "Not a bad dream by any means, and I attempted to urge him towards whatever path would do the most good.
"Children, unfortunately, are not always keen to follow the sage advice of their parents. He went off to fight in some pointless war that rivaling countries like to throw from time to time. He thought it would bring him glory, and he paid for that foolishness with his life."
A long paused followed this revelation, and still Shanoa did not comment. He hadn't quite reached it, but this was the closest Eugen had ever come to expressing sadness; at least in her presence.
"My wife and I mourned in our own ways," he continued. "I lost myself in my work and she lost herself in a bottle. They both served their intended purpose for a time, but as the months dragged on we continued to indulge if only to avoid each other. Whatever spark of life she'd first seen in my heart had been extinguished, and it took her love for me along with it." His chest expanded as he took a long, slow inhale and exhaled in much the same manner. "She spent most of her days collapsed on the floor in a drunken stupor. Sometimes she'd cry, but never in front of me. I'd only discover it in the traces of dried tears that clung to her cheeks.
"I don't know what ultimately broke her. Perhaps it was a combination of all these things. One day she went down to the river and never came back. They found her a few days later, hiding in a secluded spot. She'd rolled a heavy boulder on top of her chest and drowned."
Shanoa grimaced and her heart twisted inside her chest. She wanted to offer some condolence, but couldn't find the words. It was strange to watch him recount these memories. He was still the stoic blacksmith she'd come to expect, but a Eugen separate from the one she knew rippled beneath that familiar exterior. Shades of a person now lost amidst a man hardened by tragedy.
"I met Father Nikolai at her funeral. He was a drifter at the time, 'drawn to places of strife', as he put it. I'd lost everything, but something about him inspired trust. It wasn't long before I confessed a secret desire, one that plagued me as much as it had my wife, and it was his words that ultimately saved my life…
"In the end, the only thing we can control is ourselves." The soft wrinkles of Father Nikolai's face crinkled as his mouth curved into a warm smile. "It seems like an inconsequential power, but it's the key to true happiness. Learn to forgive yourself, to love yourself, and discover what you can do. After that, everything else falls into place. The world does not play in coincidence, my son. There is something to be gained from every travesty. It is never immediately apparent, but you'll find that purpose in time." He placed a hand on Eugen's broad shoulder. "Just do what you can. It will be enough."
"And I have lived by that philosophy." Eugen sighed once more and turned away from the window. He looked about his cluttered shop; filled with evidence of his tireless efforts. "Every day I wake up, and I do what I can it. Father Nikolai was right: it is enough, and at last – in that understanding – I found a sense of peace. It can't replace what I've lost, but it provides a purpose. The people here still need my services, after all."
"Do what you can," Shanoa echoed the phrase. "I remember you told me something to that effect once."
"Most likely, it's a lesson you needed to learn." Eugen glanced at the warrior and his eyes settled on her tattoos. "Granted, your magic gives you a kind of power far beyond what most humans could only dream of attaining, but we all have our limits. Even the most influential men can be driven to ruin."
A small smile touched Shanoa's lips as she realized what he was implying. The blacksmith couldn't bring himself to outright say it, but he cared for her safety. She'd abandoned that once, and he was scared she'd do it again.
"I have no intention of being reckless," she said. "That's why I came to you first." A beat of silence passed before Eugen nodded his head slowly.
"Indeed you did."
"You're wrong about one thing, though." Shanoa's smile grew into a proper grin. "That 'spark of life' as you called it? The reason your wife fell in love with you? It's not gone." She pointed at his chest. "I can see it right now: vibrant and alive."
Eugen stared down at her in shock for a few moments. Then – against all odds – a pink tint blossomed on his cheeks. Shanoa's eyes grew wide in surprise.
Is he… embarrassed?
The blacksmith shook his head, but couldn't dispel the blush. He waved his arms in an attempt to shoo the warrior out the door. Shanoa chuckled and obeyed his plea. There was no reason to perpetuate his obvious discomfort.
Still, it's kind of adorable.
She left the smithy with a broad smile on her face. What was it about her personality that encouraged others to reveal their secrets? Such instances seemed to be happening with increasing frequency.
Perhaps that was another reason why she'd never sought to understand the subject of enchantment. She yearned for sincerity; to witness people as they really were. Not reduced to some mindless creature chained to another's will. Maybe that inherent wish was what fostered this deep trust. People could sense that she had no desire to bend anyone to her whim.
She noticed that Abram had gotten to his feet again. He was still talking, but she didn't pay any attention to what the healer said. Shanoa became lost in a feeling of ease as she anchored herself to Eugen's words. She'd do what she could, and it was within her power to stop Aurelia.
That knowledge was enough to alleviate her lingering fear and anger.
The warrior looked down as Anna suddenly dashed towards her. The girl wrapped her arms around Shanoa's abdomen and hugged her tight. It was unexpected, but Shanoa gladly accepted the gesture. She placed her right hand on top of the girl's head.
"That woman knows about us," Anna said in a soft voice. Shanoa's brow furrowed in confusion before the ugly realization struck her and the wave of worry she'd just dammed came flooding back.
She knew why Aurelia had sent her to Wygol instead of the fortress. It was a threat veiled under the guise of aid. Her newfound sense of calm was eradicated by the chill that ran down her spine.
"This is about more than one man, Shanoa. This is about the fate of humanity."
Aurelia had taken one villager; she could just as easily take the others. The Shadow had seen how much these people meant to Shanoa, and that had prompted her to dig deeper into their history. Aurelia had uncovered enough secrets about Wygol to craft the talisman. Perhaps she'd discovered the most dangerous truth: that they were the last survivors of the Belmont clan.
And their extinction would cripple mankind in its eternal fight against the darkness.
Additional notes: Eugen's backstory is – like most of these character details – based on a brief in-game quote.
"Father Nikolai saved my life way back when. I asked him how to pay that debt, and he just said, 'Do what you can.' So, here I am, just doing what I can, where I am, with what I have. You do what you can, too. And if you run into trouble again, come see me."
In regards to the magical tickets: they are a useful item, but outside of a game setting they don't make much sense (why walk anywhere when you can just teleport, for example). So I had to come up with an explanation as to why they wouldn't be mass produced or be a desirable mode of travel. One of the more common real-world teleportation theories I've read describes the process as essentially breaking down matter, transporting it across space, then putting it back together in the same order. I figured that would be an unpleasant enough experience to discourage the people in the Castlevania universe from actively seeking these items.