Music Choices: Little off Key by Birdmask, Throne by Saint Mesa, Ship On Fire by Zeal & Ardor
Eclipse
Chapter 48
Rumors, Lists and Sepulchers
The Beacon rumor mill had taken an interesting turn over the weekend. Some new, rather spicy, intel had appeared, in the wake of STRQ's return and the ousting of the skulking figures of the King's Service; and it involved the rather infamous parents of one Becca Forzani.
Apparently - allegedly - Professor Arc hadn't been trying to simply punish team STRQ by taking them out to Burhhurst to chase Wurdalaks, nor had they been up to anything deserving the actual ire of the King's Service. Professor Arc, whom everyone knew was very, very invested in a Beacon victory in the coming Vytal Tournament in Vacuo, had become frustrated with STRQ's untapped potential and general goofing off. So she had taken it upon herself to whip them into shape personally, putting the delinquents through an intensive, nonstop bootcamp up in the mountains; and this, had - allegedly - really pissed off Becca's parents when they heard about it.
Because everyone who's anyone knows that Becca's parents are the bodyguards to the King himself and have their fingers on the pulse of everything that goes on in Beacon and Vale; and everyone also knows that Raven Branwen had stabbed the ever loving stuffing out of Becca last year - not an allegation, she did it - and that Becca's parents had done everything they could to get Raven expelled.
Well, they hadn't succeeded obviously, and resented the absolute Dust out of team STRQ and the faculty for what had happened; and upon learning that STRQ was perhaps getting an edge up on the competition, and over team BBLK and Becca, had tried to pull some strings to get the Service to harass STRQ and Professor Arc.
All of this was, of course, impossible to prove because it's not like there would be a paper trail; but the one or two brave souls who may have prodded Becca or team BBLK for answers had gotten some very interesting reactions. Someone even claimed that they'd overheard Becca on a scroll call, screaming at her parents and accusing them of trying to ruin her life; which, to be fair, could have been over literally anything. It was Becca, after all.
However, the fact that Becca's scroll was never seen in her hand again until she got herself a new one was very interesting; and she also, allegedly, was never seen or heard speaking to her parents again. Even when BBLK, by some sort of holiday miracle, managed to also get selected to go to Vacuo for the tournament.
A week passed. Then another, and another on top of that. The semester was in full swing now, and for the second years, the pace was as brutal as expected, if not more so. Classes lasted until four in the afternoon, and then physical conditioning and team training in the gym lasted until six, with a slight pause for dinner and a shower before homework. No one was going to bed until after ten, and then they were up early to start it all over again.
On top of this pace, Raven had a list of goals she had to complete on her own; you know, just a few extracurricular activities she had to take care of. First up on the agenda, she had to find someone called Waiting, and then possibly kill an aetheri who allegedly wanted to murder her girlfriend. Or at least discover whatever game it was that Set was playing at.
Secondly? She still had to kill Verdant.
To be quite honest, the second goal was coming across as being the more manageable one. With Verdant, she at least had an in. She knew what motivated him, to a degree, and she could manipulate him if she played her cards right. She also felt that she could take Verdant in a fight, should it come to that, so long as she prepared herself thoroughly and made sure the odds stacked heavily in her favor. That, and she had an ally who would be willing to supply her with the gear she might need to accomplish it. One who could keep secrets, even from the people he cared about.
Raven had made the decision to contact Tormund and request some assistance in her goal to eliminate Verdant as a threat, and had done so. The Witchfinger had met with her in secret several days ago to discuss what she was planning, and to likely get a measure of her mental and emotional state.
His eyes had been glacial, all business, as he'd sat across from her as she made her case. In the end, she must have sold it well, or perhaps he'd already been thinking something similar, because he'd agreed to supply her with anything she'd need to get the job done. His only requests were that she not rush, and to go over her strategy and exit plan with him thoroughly, as well as take any advice he offered on the matter. Considering he was a master assassin, Raven agreed without complaint.
Tormund, she knew, would also not inform her mothers or the rest of STRQ about what she was planning. He understood the need to play this close to the chest, and he also saw her as an adult capable of making her own decisions and not his child in need of protecting; however, a part of her wondered if he would have been so rational about it if it was Sigyn or Summer sitting there plotting a dangerous man's death with him. Another part of her had felt that, going off the fiercely calculating look in his eyes, that yes: he would have been.
Because Tormund was a Witchfinger first in a way that Nwyfre, perhaps, never had been.
However, something had kept Raven from mentioning the aetheri that was hunting Summer. Logic dictated that she involve Tormund in protecting his daughter, use his connections to find Waiting, and begin to take measures to eliminate this person. However, some unnamed instinct insisted she say nothing to anyone, for now; as if someone, or something, would hear her conversations about it, no matter how private those conversations were. Even if she wrote it down.
So Raven stayed silent on the matter as she began to hunt Verdant in earnest, and to quietly search for references to someone named Waiting.
The Speculorum….
Finding the sepulcher where the Mantle was contained was never actually a simple thing. Waiting had made this trek multiple times in his existence, and it never got any easier. For starters, the closer one got to the Mantle, the more the different Guardians grew restless and tried to intervene. They could sense when someone was seeking Harpocrates, and would twist the Mirrorways into wild tangles of time and space that even a practiced aetheri would have severe trouble unraveling.
In fact, the amount of time that had passed since the Blank One had revealed to him how to kill the King and pin it on the Service, until now, could not be easily determined. In the end, however, it wouldn't matter.
So far, the Blank One had not complained about the obstacles the two of them had encountered trying to get to Harpocrates. In fact, they seemed to take it as confirmation that Waiting really was taking them to the Mantle and would eagerly untangle any of the messes the Guardians threw their way, no matter how long it took them.
There was also the matter that other aetheri were now hunting for them as the Mirrorways were thrown into continuous chaos. He could hear their songs reverberating in distant corridors, tearing through the Mirrorways feverishly like hounds after a fox. He recognized the Reaper's voice, and occasionally the eerie, raw howl of someone just as dangerous, if possibly even more unhinged than Waiting's current companion. He was not eager to run into either of these individuals here, and hoped they reached Harpocrates soon.
Then there was, of course, the legitimate fear that this would not work. If for whatever reason the Blank One refused to enter Harpocrates or was left unscathed by it's defenses, then they would know how to find it again and could lead others there should they choose; however, Waiting knew that even if they did, no one would be able to enter and actually retrieve the Mantle. Unless they were supposed to, in which case, there was little to be done about it. Still, he knew this could cause problems, and would not be attempting it if he had felt he'd had any other legitimate course he could take.
Finally, there came a moment where Waiting knew instinctively that they had arrived. The Unseelie paused in his bounding sprint and glided to the ground, which had covered itself in dry, swaying grass. Behind him, the Blank One's voice ebbed and finally came to a stop as they crested the tawny hilltop.
Before them, in what appeared to be a hidden valley full of ancient fruit trees, was the sepulcher. Harpocrates. Torches lined the cobblestone road that led from the hilltop down to the gates of the sepulcher, where a pack of dogs roved. Even from here, Waiting could see the symbol of the goddess carved into ancient stonework above the gate: the wheel of Hecate, which represented her place in the middle of the pantheon of the ruling gods and the Mirrorways twisting, circuitous network that held reality together like a million, delicate threads, forming the very fabric of space-time itself.
The Blank One stared down into the valley, their eyes burning with light and music as they appraised the region. Waiting, despite his own tricks and advantages, could not see as they did and could not guess just what all this looked like to them; but going off the ecstatic energy running through their frame, they were very excited to be here, indeed.
"This entire time," they whispered, more to themself than to him. Waiting looked upwards, trying to see the ceiling and anything that may be lurking there. "It was here this entire time…."
Waiting inhaled softly, closing his eyes as he concentrated. He could smell pomegranates and wheat. He opened his crimson eyes and quietly grinned.
The Blank One continued to talk to themself as they thoroughly studied the sepulcher and any magical wards or entrapments that might surround it. However, Waiting was beginning to relax, crouching on his hindquarters as he watched the roving packs of dogs that guarded the gates.
"This place is a veritable fortress," the aetheri muttered thoughtfully, tapping their chin. "So many wards, such little time - and the spellwork is exquisite! My, my. Someone put a lot of love into protecting this."
Yes. Someone had.
Waiting quietly took a step back, putting some distance between himself and the aetheri. If they noticed, they didn't care, as they were enamoured with whatever they seemed to be studying; currents of song and power would flutter out of them on occasion as they prodded the protections surrounding the sepulcher, and tried to perceive as much as they could.
A gentle breeze was the only warning the aetheri got, before they barely dodged a livid green lance of light. Waiting skipped backwards, trying to stay out of the way, as something green and red blurred past him, and with a wave of green light knocked the aetheri back again.
At the gates, the dogs were howling and barking, their own voices the manifestations of a protective enchantment that could drive the listener temporarily insane and send them fleeing into the Mirrorways. Fortunately, as a Grimm, it had little effect on him. The Blank One used their own song to protect themself from the maddening howls, but that left them open to further attack as the Guardian of the Mantle continued to go on the offensive ruthlessly.
Song and spellwork clashed furiously, as the Mirrorways warped and strained in response to the tidal forces of magic that were tearing chaotically through them. Waiting only barely managed to not get caught in the middle of the fight himself, and he spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to not get discorporated by a deflected spell.
Suddenly, Waiting could hear the songs of Reaper and Baphomet closing in rapidly, reacting to the Mirrorways distress as the Guardian and the Blank One fought. That made him nervous, but maybe, if he was very lucky, the three of them would team up and kill them-
A silver cacophony tore through the Mirrorways and knocked Waiting off his feet and into a pillar. He would have lost consciousness if he could have, and instead simply curled up in pain. Which, what a load, right? What's the point of being dead if you can still feel pain, it's so unfair.
He growled and moaned in a little pile, trying to shake it off. He missed having aura. Aura had been the best. The worst part of undeath, besides being undead, was not having aura.
Coughing miserably, the little Unseelie pushed himself up at last, only to freeze when he noticed an inhumane form shimmering across from him. His wings flared anxiously and his tail curled as he looked up, only to relax in recognition. It was merely the Guardian's war form, which to be fair, was absolutely terrifying for any mortal thing to look upon.
"Salutations, friend Waiting!" the Guardian chirped with what was possibly hundreds of mouths with thousands of teeth. Green flames burned over skeletal armor plating and dozens of razor sharp limbs folded gracefully around her. "Were you harmed in the crossfire?"
Waiting dusted himself off and sniffed.
"W...No," he coughed again. "Thank you."
The Guardian beamed cheerfully, as was her nature. Waiting glanced past her luminous form to try to see the body of the rogue aetheri; however, there was nothing and no one there.
"They have fled," the Guardian informed helpfully. "I fear that the combined presence of the Reaper, Baphomet and myself seems to have encouraged this."
Waiting nodded once, his head feeling heavy. This was definitely not the best outcome, but he supposed there was little he could do at the moment; he at least had the information he needed to remove the King and the Service as threats to the free people and magic users world wide. Not that that in itself would be very easy.
However, if both Reaper and Baphomet were in the area hunting them? Then he had more time to act, as the Blank One would definitely be laying low for the foreseeable future; and Reaper, despite her ego and general dislike of intelligent Grimm, was still an ally of the tribe and those he worked for.
"I need. To speak with. Reaper," he cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Is she still close?"
"You could say that," hummed another voice, and Waiting made a face, irritated that she'd snuck up on him. But not surprised.
The Reaper strolled up behind the odd pair of entities, adorned in her trademark skull mask and cape, her weapons in hand. Power rolled of the aetheri, who was still clearly in her prime and a solid match for the Blank One in a fight. Waiting did his best to do not withdraw from her, aware that she did not like him very much.
"What's up, chicken butt?" Reaper asked after a tense beat, her mouth twisting in a wry smirk. Her body language, however, betrayed danger. "Having fun playing tour guide, were we? I fucking told Ciara-"
"Shut. The hell up. And listen. To what I have to say," Waiting grit out, his little fists balling up to keep from shaking. "You giant. Ego-turd."
There was an electric pause as silver eyes widened incredulously. The Guardian was glancing between the pair of them, looking flummoxed.
"Um. Excuse me?" Reaper laughed, stepping closer. "The Branwen better come get your bony, monkey butt, because otherwise-"
"The Blank One. Is hunting secrets. To sell on the Branwen? And the entire. Magical community," Waiting pushed through urgently. "To the King's Service . Do you grasp. The severity of this? Or is your head. Too fat. To think clearly?"
Reaper snorted in outrage, but she didn't strike out at him at least.
"Yea, I'm weeelllll aware of what they've been doing - and no thanks to you, gremlin gang, what exactly were you thinking bringing them here?" Reaper swept an arm out towards the sepulcher and roving, agitated dogs below the trio. "Do you have any clue what they could do if they got in there?!"
"More of an idea. Than you. Little girl," Waiting growled contemptuously. Reaper bristled at that, her frame radiating irritation.
"Ok, I've had just about enough of this," Reaper hummed. "Let's play a game! I call it presto-discorpero! Guess what the premise is?"
Guardian laid a deceitfully gentle limb on Reaper's shoulder, her shimmering, and menacing, war-form dwarfing the aetheri.
"Waiting is my friend, Reaper," the Guardian chirped, her voice still cheerful.
Waiting grinned impishly at Reaper's sour expression. He quietly stuck his tongue out as she glared at him.
"Penelope. Girl. We've got to get you better friends," Reaper sighed longsufferingly. "Have you tried getting out more?"
The Guardian perked up, her flames and bony spires rustling.
"I cannot leave Harpocrates grounds until the Mantle has been-"
"I know, I know, I know," Reaper waved impatiently. "I was being sarcastic, that's my fault - ok. So look, gremlin -"
"My name. Is Waiting," he sniffed.
"Yea, and that's a stupid ass name," Reaper scoffed mockingly.
"Says the woman. Who calls herself. Reaper," he retorted with a shrug. "We can't all. Be edgelords-"
"I am literally this close to turning you into an inkblot test," Reaper squeezed her thumb and index finger together.
"But Waiting is my friend-"
"Penny, I'm being sarcastic again!" Reaper exclaimed, silver eyes wide with frustration.
The Guardian blinked a few hundred times.
"But that is so confusing," Penny muttered sadly. Waiting bristled.
"Be nice. To Penny."
Reaper was rubbing her face through her half mask, on the verge of losing her cool. This was why he didn't like working with Reaper. She was too impatient and impertinent to work well with others for any length of time, and he was well used to the free people's prickly mannerisms.
"Ok. I'll be nice," she held her palms up in surrender. Waiting glared skeptically at her while Penny beamed. "You brought them out here hoping that what? The Guardians would jump them?"
"In part," Waiting admitted, scratching behind his ear. "Or that. They'd go inside. And then die."
Reaper blinked, studying the sepulcher, her curiosity clearly peaked.
"People have gotten inside before?"
He nodded. He could count the number on one hand, but there had been a few during the centuries he'd been around.
"Huh. Well now I'm curious if I could swing it?" she muttered thoughtfully. "I bet I could do it. With a little prep work."
"Perhaps you could," he shrugged, glancing down the hill. "But you would know. If you were. Really supposed. To go inside. And claim it."
"Please do not attempt to enter," the Guardian stated politely. It was not a request.
"Would you try to beat me up if I did?" Reaper asked a little mischievously.
"There would be no trying," Penelope informed helpfully. "I would kick your butt. However, I wouldn't be happy about it."
Waiting snickered at Reaper's expression.
"Well at least you wouldn't be happy about it," Reaper muttered wryly. Penelope smiled ruefully.
"As fun. As this has been?" Waiting started, turning away from the sepulcher. "I still have. A job to do. And so. Do you."
"Gremlin, I swear, you are just, such a treat to be around. Truly," Reaper stared down at him as if she had stepped in dog vomit. "What a great conversationalist."
"Least I work well. With others. And I'm Grimm. What's your excuse?" he groused, starting back the way he'd come. "Other than. A fat ego?"
"Stop calling my ego fat, ok, she's just got some junk in the trunk and frankly? She wears it well."
"Whatever you need. To tell yourself," he grunted in annoyance, before waving a goodbye to the Guardian. Penelope had shifted down into her more humanoid guise, and waved cheerfully at him before disappearing onto the grounds once again.
Then he turned away, and didn't look back again. So long as Reaper was hunting the Blank One, and keeping them from causing too much trouble in the meantime, he would have a little breathing room; but not much. He would need to act quickly to eliminate their enemies if he could; but first, he needed to get a message to Ciara and the others, and bring them up to speed.