Elane awoke to the feeling of waves gently licking her calves and jolted to her feet, panicked. The sea level rose overnight, something the elf didn't see coming but thankfully, for today, it meant nothing more than soaked boots and wet feet. Snatching her still dry bag off the cavern's ground, she ventured through the drowned path back to the main beach, and up, towards the camp. The blacksmith's workshop they passed yesterday was in use now, manned by a bald human. Pale skin and distinctive blonde beard and eyebrows hinted that he might have come from northern regions, maybe Orobas Fjords, maybe even Aleroth, but the elf couldn't quite pinpoint by a glance alone.
She decided to step closer, half-curious and half-intrigued by the man's work. He was oblivious to the elf's presence, hammering dents flat in a chestpiece. Her eyes moved to scrutinize the pile of metal, weapons and shields, underneath the man's feet. Some were salvageable, some far beyond the point of repairability. One piece of scrap caught her attention, an elaborate knuckle guard of a beautiful rapier found itself in the heap. She reached for the grip and pulled the sorry blade into the light. The edge was badly nicked, as if someone tried to block a far heavier weapon with the flimsier one. It belonged to an inexperienced warrior, clearly, but the workmanship of the sword hinted at a Paladin origin, or at least the same manufacturer. Elane had seen such blades by the belts of Divine Order Knights patrolling Arx during her visits. Gold and ornate, like everything about the first followers of the Divine. The clanking sound stopped before she could be mindful enough to put the sword back in its place.
"This was Hallorn's blade, his first but also his last," the blacksmith stated grimly, his accent leaving no doubt that he indeed came from the north.
The elf nodded respectfully, weighing the weapon in her hands. "..and he was?"
"A recruit," the other breathed, feeling of guilt audible in those two words. "He failed his last year of Paladin training, so he was delegated to join us instead, and volunteered to this crazy mission soon after. He had a reason to; his sister was a Sourcerer…He hacked through Reds like weeds. Voidwoken got him, ultimately."
The recount should come at a little surprise, the island was swarming with Voidwoken, and Seekers had Sourcerers among their ranks but, still, the woman lowered the tip of the harrowed blade, and shuddered at the memory of the soul-slashing cold.
"I am sorry for your loss," she answered according to usual human customs, aware that the confession came out of the need to validate his feelings about their fallen.
"But you bring hope," the blacksmith continued. "Hope that this was not all in vain. We came here to rescue one, and we might depart with dozens."
Elane's eyebrow rose up at the news that this whole ordeal happened just for one person, and she wondered who and why, but the answer seemed irrelevant now, especially after so many variables had changed. Without a word, the elf raised the sword and brought it down, hard and flat, against a tree stump that stood nearby. The weakened point broke away, significantly shortening the blade but leaving a jagged edge in its place.
"Saved you a few rounds with the whetstone," she said, handing the surprised man the rapier back.
Despite his bafflement, the man's grip on the handle was strong, and his movements when he brought the blade to his face were sharp and confident. He smiled, taking one more look at the now-departing elf.
"Kerban's the name."
"Elane."
And with that, the woman was gone behind a wooden structure, while Kerban resumed his work with a new vigor.
The late morning in the encampment was slow, as Elane's steps took her past the infirmary, where she saw the wounded lounging without a hint of pain or discomfort on their faces. Loke was not among them, however.
The sizable bonfire that was lit on the other side of the camp was full of red embers, keeping a nearly-eaten torso of some animal warm. Ifan's hunting prowess at his finest, the elf wagered. She glanced around, but there was no sight of the Lone Wolf in the camp; at least not on this side. Vermil took her by surprise, bumping her with his shoulder, but not out of malice.
"You are late for breakfast," he stated, walking with a knife and a spare plate in hand.
She responded with a nod, the tug of hunger in her stomach stirring up a feeling of nausea.
He motioned to her to rest on a log nearby with the knife he was holding, before cutting the last edible chunks of meat he was guarding for the elf. Alongside the broiled deer, a piece of cold flatbread and some wild mushrooms, sauteed in the animal's fat with some unrecognizable herbs, found their way onto a plate she was handed. It wasn't much, but it was a warm meal. Someone else placed a mug of hot steaming liquid on the ground next to her. A long arm tightly wrapped in a sleeve and whatever available to secure it - Sebille.
Elane blurted out quick but earnest thanks before wolfing down the food, only to stop herself mid-way and savor every morsel instead.
"There are a few places still left to check on the island, but we decided to take a day of rest. We should do all the errands in time."
"What about Beast and Fort?" the elf mumbled, mouth full.
"Ifan, Gareth, and Delorus set off to secure a return path," Sebille was the one to answer, remaining unseen behind the woman's back.
"They should be fine though, whether undead still lurk about or not," his head lolled to the side, pointing towards the pond of lustrous, glowing water down the valley.
Turning her head in the same direction, she saw the priestess accompanying the Magister, now stripped of any recognizable red armor, to the pond. Looking a bit up, she saw Lohse, sunbathing on the wooden platforms, seemingly without a care in the world. Bahara and the Prince were nowhere to be seen, but then again, it was more than justified to assume the red lizard opted to sleep in today. The serenity was almost jarring in comparison to the day before.
Elane was finishing the plate slowly, making a mental note of yesterday's heated discussion with the Eternal, and recollecting she had a book for him, snatched from the bowels of the Magister dungeon. She was carrying this extra weight for long enough, and after stuffing the old tyrant's helmet into her bag, she was running low on free space anyway.
A hand clasped on her shoulder brought her back to current affairs, her sight refocusing on the embers in front of her.
"Good job yesterday," the human commended. "But try not to get hacked to pieces next time, necromancy only goes so far," he added in a hushed voice, but Sebile nonetheless turned towards them at the sound.
People rarely discussed the use of dark arts openly, especially surrounded by Divine Order goons, magisterial or not, and that caught her attention in the first place. The boy, Gareth's second-in-command, Exter, who was sitting scrunched over a map by a crudely nailed-together table nearby, didn't even stir at the sound.
Plopping the last bite in her mouth, the noble couldn't help but wish there was more, but she knew she should be more than grateful for what little she was given anyway. Vermil took the dirty dish from her, and despite her audible protests about being capable of washing it herself, the man shrugged her off, reasoning that he had nothing else to do anyway.
Elane was left mildly exasperated to her own devices, and she decided to try and reconcile with the scholar if there really was nothing else to be done in the camp. The search for the loud-mouthed, black-haired elf wasn't long. She found him tucked far away from the main commotion of the encampment, near the ledge that they climbed yesterday. He was sitting under a structure that looked like two observation towers, bound together by a ramp of a few, old planks. He paid no attention to her, scribbling and leafing through his notebook in a frantic manner. Only the book that the elf slid right under his nose made him halt his work, and shift the gaze of cold eyes onto the cover.
"I found it in Kniles' quarters, might be of interest to you."
She nudged the item his way, but he seemed hesitant to take it.
"Why?" His answer betrayed distrust.
"I apologize for yesterday," she dropped the book into his lap and moved to sit down nearby.
"I was trying to…comprehend it all. It was my first time I saw monsters that were able to talk coherently-"
"Not only yours…" he mumbled, 'eyeing' the cover.
She fell silent, watching him open the lecture and studying his features as he flicked through the first few pages, then found the page marked by the deceased torturer. Willed illusion or not, his eyes it up with a gleam of curiosity
"It is interesting," he conceded, switching the glistening look to the elf.
They held each other's gaze for a long while, before the woman shuffled, realizing her boldness.
"Your mask is quite the wonder, really," she breathed, her hand edging closer subconsciously. "M-May I?"
He answered with a measured nod, and she felt his cheek with her fingertips. Intrigued by the sensation, she rested her whole palm against the surprisingly warm flesh and ruffled unexpectedly sturdy hair.
"Lifelike…" she noted not without surprise, expecting a somewhat more ethereal projection.
The magic didn't ripple, even disturbed by her interference, and she realized just now that it worked back on the Merryweather, even when there had been a Source-muting collar around his neck.
The scholar seemed to revel in the elf's amazed bafflement, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards.
"In my time it was nothing more than a novelty. A toy really."
Spooked by the feeling of muscles working in his jaw as he spoke, her hand snapped back to her side.
"I crafted one for my child once. She spent the day trying to convince me that she was her mother, even though the face I used looked nothing like her," he continued, a shadow of a chuckle trailing in his voice.
Elane's brows furrowed at the story.
"How do you craft such a mask exactly?"
"Oh, it's quite simple. One just acquires a face, a Source orb, and combines the two to make a face mask," he answered as if it was painfully obvious, and his next words only emphasized this sentiment. "Frankly, I'm amazed everyone isn't doing it."
The two onyx orbs of the woman's eyes disappeared under a series of rapid blinks.
"Face…So this was what you were trying to do with that corpse in the alcove…"
Her voice trailed off in a rasp, Fane's smugness now replaced with an annoyed vexation at the increased amount of wrinkles hugging the other's black eyebrows. They moved a little upwards when something dawned on the elf.
"You were skinning alive people to make your mask…" The statement bore the intonation of a question, or rather a plea for it to be refuted.
"No, naturally not!" He squirmed at the thought, flabbergasted.
She rested her face on a closed fist, her gaze shooting to and fro from the veiled undead, scowl still contorting her features into a look indicating doubt.
"So, in one breath you told me your people were not prone to death and that you are looking for a mask constructed from the faces of the deceased…It does not add up," she concluded with a frustrated note.
The scholar let out one, long, exasperated sigh that nearly made the elf's teeth chatter.
"I doubt you would survive after having the back of your skull smashed into muck, or having your bones grow misshapen and flake. Yes, most of them were terribly unlucky, but those accidents avaunted progress and science."
"So, you cut open dead people?" Elane deadpanned, trying to visualize the gruesome occurrence.
"I worked to expand the knowledge of my people," he glowered, sounding on the defensive.
"But your latest attempt seems to be somewhat underappreciated…" her words nudged him where it stung worst.
"No," he huffed. "Certainly not by my King. It's baffling how some discoveries can get you praise and some can send you straight into a Traitor's Tomb…"
"But," she started slowly, tentatively. "It was not exactly what you did discover that led up to this, was it?"
Another sigh, but heavier and bearing the undertone of regret.
"No. As I told you before, after the King refused to let me investigate the Veil, I brought the issue up with others-"
Elane's breath hitched in her lungs after hearing the accursed word reverberating in her ears. Anxiety flooded her as the all-too-familiarswimming feeling began setting in her head. Once more, her soul felt liquid and unstable and…then just stopped. She was still there, mind and body, listening to the rest of Fane's story.
"-The Seven Lords, the ones I am trying to investigate now; whether they are one and the same or merely a grim coincidence. They were beneath the King in authority, but far above me. I brought them my research - I showed them everything."
After that, his head hung low, and his tone bore the weight of dismay but also defeatism.
"I had hoped they would help me convince the King of his error, but before they or I could act, I was arrested and-..."
"You do not need to finish, we both know where it ends."
Elane's chin rested on her knees, her eyes fixated on a spot that was not the pained scholar.
Silence fell upon them both, mitigated to some degree by the background noise coming from the camp, and the inescapable, distant hum of the sea.
"So, this king of yours…" She warily picked up the crumble of information he had left before.
"He ceased to be my King the moment he turned on me!" He snapped, interrupting her.
"I-" She tried to regain her voice, but his gaze turned absent once more.
Cold and dead eyes pierced the ground between his legs as he supported his head with both of his palms, fingers digging into illusionary hair.
"I did nothing wrong! All I wanted was to further the knowledge of the Eternals," he mumbled but with a frantic ferocity.
She watched his outburst idle, concerned. He calmed soon after, groggily moving his gaze to the elf once more.
"Who knows, had I been allowed to continue my studies, perhaps I could have warded off whatever catastrophe befell them…"
"Sorry," Elane breathed the apology in earnest. "Last thing I wanted was to upset you, I will leav-"
"Stay, please."
He wiggled to rest his back against the wooden wall making one side of the observation tower they were chatting under.
"Those memories are…painful. But reminiscence helps. My recollection was greatly taxed by the tomb and degradation. If you're willing to listen, I'll talk."
She froze, halfway back to her feet, then heeded his plea, sitting cross-legged across him.
"Tell me what you remember then, I am all ears…"
Fane's expression clouded, mellowing as if his consciousness moved inwards, and was too busy to keep a semblance of emotion on his illusion of a face.
"I remember the big things, of course…" he murmured as if to confirm the fact to himself. "My library. My home. The King. My family. But the rest?"
His head began shaking.
"It's all covered in a fog. And the more I see of this world, the thicker that fog seems to get."
"Let us pick a direction then. You had your own library? I have one in my home as well, but it is rather hard to imagine one without the concept of…books."
She referenced his initial slander of mortal maculature with a pang of amusement. The last thing the elf ever expected to find among a sinking ship, was an undead trying to enjoy a book at that very moment and complaining about the element that was actively ruining his experience.
"I imagine it might be troublesome. Nothing in this world compares to it. We crafted our homes from stone and crystal, using the power of the universe itself to keep them in place. Similar principle applied to literature," he chuckled.
His speech followed the well-known pattern of starting off innocently but prideful, only to transform into a waterfall of condescendence.
"Your people, on the other hand, seem quite content to sit about in smoky hovels held together by straw and filth. It's a mercy-"
"Some, maybe," she cut in, already fed up with the unprompted aspersion. "But you have not seen my home yet, and probably hundreds of others. I can hardly respect your merit as a man of wisdom if you are judging the living standards of the entire population based on a literal death camp set in the middle of a dilapidated, long-forgotten isle that has not seen a spark of civilization in a thousand or more years."
The woman's harangue successfully terminated the undead's will to continue his thought. She reveled in the rare triumph, and finally got up to her knees.
"Very well then, my curiosity is piqued," the other answered in a snappish manner. "I'd be happy to compare your words with reality if a chance arises."
"Feel yourself invited," she hummed back at him with a side grin and was ready to scurry when a hand forced her to stay for a few more heartbeats.
"I'd like to have a look at the helmet, now that I don't have that damned collar muting the very few senses I have left. "
Several consternated pats of her hand against her stuffed pack had the scholar scurrying his memory for something he seemingly had forgotten in the request, and that one word was barring him from an object of interest.
"...Please?"
With a content smile, she plucked the spiky metal crown out of the clutches of her bag and handed it over to him without any further comments, and left him be, walking towards the camp, a certain idea blooming in her mind.
"Teach you hydrosophy, huh?"
Lohse rolled over from her lounging position to look at the elf standing below.
"I thought it could be useful to have one more healer in the group." Elane's tone lowered, barely perceivable over the nearby splashing of the pond's twin waterfalls. "And you know how people react to necromancers…blood magic is finicky."
Her voice quickly returned to its usual volume. "Unless you have something else to do this afternoon, that is."
Cascade of red curls shook as the bard guffawed at the insinuation.
"Yeah, you're right. And I guess I owe you for saving me back at the courtyard-"
"I am not calling in any favors," the elf sternly intruded. "You do not owe me a thing."
"Still," Lohse shrugged as she sat up, her tone oddly somber. "You had no reason to get hurt for my sake."
"You were in danger, this is one reason and reason enough," the other answered as if her actions were self-explanatory, right to a point where they simply couldn't be doubted.
The bard's lips twitched into a slight grin first, then opened into a full-fledged smile.
"C'mon then!" She beckoned, radiant and joyful once more, dropping from her spot of leisure down to the ground level where the elf stood.
They headed towards the shore, with Lohse promptly noting that using the now-sacred pond for practice might not be the best idea, with which the elf amusingly agreed.
When they crossed the threshold of the blacksmith's tent, Elane cast the woman a fleeting glance, sizing the other up.
"Are you doing better?" The question was not born out of suspicion or malice, but care, yet the redhead's face fell at the inquiry all the same.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Well, fine as one gets, stuck on a Void-infested island with slim chances of escaping."
"Have you come across them? The Voidwoken?" The question fell once they reached the sandy coast, frequented quite often by the elf as of late.
She turned towards the woman, eyes intently scanning her features. Lohse dug one shoed feet in the sand, kicking it up.
"Ran into 'em just by the shore. It seems it haunts the wildlife or something because one moment you pass a group of salamanders bathing in the sun and the next they call you vermin, angry and…changed. Brr."
A chill ran down her spine so violently that her whole silhouette shook.
"And the cold sets in?" The other woman added.
"That's the worst part of it all. So-" hands resting on hips, Lohse doffed her shoes and took a few energetic steps well past the waterline." Shall we start, milady?"
Following the human's lead, the elf dropped her bag onto the sand, leaving her hair ornaments behind with it, and entered the water barefoot, her ankle-length hair, now hanging loose, suffering the similar fate of her feet. The cold waves bit into her skin instantly, making her cringe.
"We are going to get wet," Lohse stated with an impish grin. "Better get accustomed to the idea.
Elane rolled her eyes dramatically but stood to attention.
"So, huh. Let's see where we are first. How do you manipulate blood exactly?"
The question struck the half-baked necromancer as odd, and her expression matched the feeling.
"I call to it?"
The redhead threw her head back with an unspoken 'Ah' before she leaned down slightly and extended her hands towards the ceaselessly moving element.
"You know how tides work?" She left a pause for the other to confirm before continuing.
"Hydrosophy is similar, you become the center of gravity to the water, and one strong enough o to pry it from any other…"
She presented the theory in practice by calling a stream of water from the sea. It quickly formed a ring around her that distorted in accordance with the movements of her hands, becoming more elliptic.
Looking hard at the abundance of water stretching far beyond the horizon, the elf couldn't help but wonder.
"Where do you pull from if there is no body of water nearby?"
A content smile that clung to the human's lips only widened, as she dispersed the ring into mist with a flick of a wrist.
"There's plenty of water in the air around us, but that is an advanced lesson." She pointed to the sky above.
"But if that is unsatisfying, there's usually more than enough hanging overhead."
The acknowledgment came in a decisive shake of Elane's head, and her attention snapped back to the bard.
"Okay, imagine you're pulling a rope with a really heavy iron ball at the end, and everything you have to pull with is your mind. Give it a go."
Expecting a far more elaborate preface, the noble shot the other woman a fleeting glance, only to spot a hand beckoning at the vast waters before them.
The next hours were spent by the elf trying to grip this simple notion. As her attempts remained fruitless or half-successful, Lohse opted to guide her from the seashore, the coldness of the sea taking its toll on the human after some time. The elf remained relentless in her attempts, every latch her mind took on the element only encouraging her to try once more. When she finally managed to hold a leaking, misshapen sphere of saltwater between her palms she felt euphoric, even more so, that Lohse was loudly cheering her on. After further instructions orb turned into a wobbly snake, disappearing into the waves. For the next exercise, the bard rejoined the elf and they were swirling a long stream between them.
The cerulean blue was giving way to warmer tones on the horizon, as the two were absorbed in hydrosophy lesson in earnest; the back of Elane's chainmail soaked, and Lohse's skirt bearing a batten of splatters well above her knee. Elane was just focusing on reshaping the orb she just pulled into a ring, similar to what she saw Lohse do previously, and just as she was spreading the stream thin to encircle her, an unexpected voice rang too close for her liking.
"There you are, splashing in the sea l-"
Sebille didn't get to finish the sentence, however, hit by a fan of watery droplets that the stream the noble was conjuring dissolved into.
"Of course, you'd do that-" the assassin murmured, shaking her soaked sleeve to the side.
"I did not mean to…" The noble, now startled by the elf's presence and her own botch, blurted out hurriedly.
"I'll know better than to approach you when you're busy splashing around next time."
"Sel, it wasn't intentional, I can tell," the redhead placated, trying to hide the amusement in her tone.
The cat-eyed woman flashed a warm smile at the two, then blinked out of sight only for Elane to feel a strong grip toppling her under the waves. Her breath froze in her lungs, eyes squeezing shut the moment she felt a stinging chill on her back. She sat back up near instantly, the water barely reaching her hips.
"You're awful, Sel!" Lohse spat out through laughter as she hurled a palm-sized orb of water at the other elf who nimbly dodged the projectile.
After twirling around, Sebille jumped towards the human, kicking the water her way and completely erasing the pattern of wet and dry spots on Lohse's skirt, in favor of the monolithic, darker hue the garment now took.
Elane managed to scramble to her feet, only for her face to intercept another projectile meant for the elven assassin, and knock her back again. Lohse gasped loudly, her palms covering her mouth with an apologetic look in her eyes, thankfully, Sebille was right behind her to catch the falling elf.
"I can see the allusion-" she mumbled, spitting and blowing water out of her nose.
"We're even," the other breathed, content audible in the statement.
"You came here to bother Elane or do you actually want to join Lohse's water magic school?" The enchantress jested in earnest.
"I came here to let you know the boys returned with news."