Chapter 5: Demons Within
(Thursday, April 30th, 2015 E.A., 1 week, 3 days Post-Incident)
Alia stood at the end of the street, staring down the blocks into the murky fog that hid her sister's mansion from sight. Alia had walked here from the portal door that connected the Spellblade estate to the rest of Marleybone, and yet… this was the first time she'd seen fog this thick. Sure, Marleybone was always a bit cloudier, dingier, and foggier than say, Grizzleheim, but this street was different. The grey gloom only afforded a few feet of visibility, if that, and carried a stale smell with it.
For the whole walk, Alia had considered not going. And now that she was just a few minutes stroll from Rowan's, that small bit of her too terrified to continue was urging her to just leave. But she'd already followed the note's instructions, sending Zeus off with the confirmation that she was coming, so Rowan could 'make preparations'. Alia had no idea what that meant, but she didn't like the ideas her fear concocted so stopped dwelling on it. Wish I'd kept Zeus with me, Alia thought as she collected herself and walked briskly into the fog as if it were nothing, I'd actually appreciate his company in this place.
The fog had a psychotropic effect on her senses that made her uneasy. It kept her from seeing more than two buildings at a time, and completely obscured any objects across the street, leaving her feeling isolated in a solitary bubble of order and sanity, surrounded by grey uncertainty and chaos. As she came up to a streetlight the bubble of safety would expand, but when she left the light behind the fog always seemed to close in on her, like a panther inching closer to prey. Her eyes frequently darted through the fog, paranoid that some monstrous corruption of her sister would lunge out to take her head.
Her stress manifested as sparks over her clenched fists, her subconscious mind preparing itself to utilize magical defense. Fighting would be the only option; where could she flee in this all-encompassing gloom? Finally her stomach could take the stress no more, and she ducked into an alley between two buildings to heave its contents. No longer moving, a chill seemed to creep into her skin, and she shuddered as more of her lunch with Tasha decided to bail out. I must be getting closer if it's getting colder, she reasoned, and looked around her. There was an abandoned cardboard box with a blanket within, so she took the dingy cloth and wrapped it around herself, shivering again.
This is definitely bad, Alia thought as she searched the sidewalk outside the alley for unwanted company, even the homeless Cats ran off.
It felt like an hour before the cemetery gate came into view, iron rods materializing from the fog one by one. She honestly wasn't sure anymore if she had walked slowly, the street had lengthened, or even what time it was. Standing now outside the graveyard, night seemed to arrive early, even though her mental clock was certain it was early afternoon. As she had back at the street's end, she stood before the gate, contemplating turning back. It was an intimidating sight to be certain, as the fog was thicker here than anywhere else, concealing everything. It was just Alia and the gate, locked in a battle of will in a sea of grey. Nothing else existed behind her, or behind those iron bars. Her body shivered violently, the cold having pierced through her acquired cloak sometime earlier.
It wouldn't make sense to go back now. You've come too far, seen too much of this to not get some answers! She barked at herself, trying to internally pep-talk herself into opening that gate. Hesitantly she reached out her hand, gingerly touching her fingertips to the frosted iron and squeezing her eyes shut, waiting for hell to rise.
Some time passed before she realized that nothing was happening. No monster from the gloom. No mirage of some corrupted memory. She removed her hand from the gate then touched it again, looking around as the cold metal bit her skin.
"Huh… Guess Miguel was right," Alia declared in a hoarse voice that nearly cracked. A modicum of relief came to her, but receded when an orange glow began to diffuse through the gloom beyond the gate. "Uhhh…" Alia withdrew her hand and took a step back, "spoke too soon?"
After what qualified for the most suspenseful moment of her life, a Nightmare came into view, fiery mane barely increasing her field of view. She recognized it as Morgan, a horse Talon had gifted to Rowan some time ago. It was a small pony, like Talon's unicorn herd, barely passing her waist in height, but in this environment Morgan looked unusually imposing. The Nightmare snorted fire, tossing its head back and turning around.
"By all means, please, lead on," Alia called after Morgan, pushing open the gate and jogging after the beast. With Morgan's guidance the trip through the graveyard was quick and uneventful, leading Alia to part of this trek she really wanted to avoid; the porch.
Rowan's house was… different. As Miguel had noted, rumors of it being haunted abounded long before Rowan's arrival, and those rumors drew Rowan to the property. Rowan had told her once about how she acquired it through a fair under-table purchase at a reduced price from the previous owner -who wanted to be rid of the property as soon as possible- while they had been hunting Malistaire in Marleybone. So far as the government was concerned the deed was still in that (now) dead Dog's name. According to Rowan the rumors were pretty tame as far as hauntings went; furniture movement, creaks, apparitions. It was superstition that drove the owner away.
But the wizards all knew that changed when Rowan moved in. Voluntarily, or as a result of inhabitance, Rowan had imbued life and soul into the home. She never really bothered to explain the phenomenon in detail, but her friends suspected it was a subordinate spirit or a piece of Rowan's because the house always reflected her moods and discriminations towards guests.
And right now, as she moved towards the porch with hesitant steps, it began to quiver, aged wood shuddering to life. The columns that held the roof aloft splintered free of the railing to become fangs for a maw, and though Alia could not see them through the gloom, she knew there were two circular stain glass windows above the porch, acting as eyes for the monster abode. Since she couldn't see the eyes, she couldn't truly gauge the porch's emotion towards her arrival; it wasn't growling and groaning at her, however, so that was a start.
Morgan led her up to the porch, and then stopped at the elegant wooden door to step aside. Alia tentatively moved forward and rapped a knuckle on the door, knocking loose ice crystals that had formed on the edges of the reliefs carved in the door. Her hand withdrew swiftly to avoid any further frosting.
She hadn't even gotten a finger into a pocket to start the thawing process before the door was opened by Henry, a gentleman Rat who served as Rowan's butler. Alia followed him in, noticing his thick fur overcoat before her eyes surveyed the entry hall.
"What the…" Her eyes wandered all around, taking in the scene surrounding her. Every surface of the hall that held moisture was now covered by a slick sheen of ice, glimmering in the candlelight of the partially frozen skeleton chandelier. It was terrifying yet beautiful; dazzling yet desolate.
Henry motioned for her to follow, and Alia tentatively took a few steps before realizing the checkered tile floor wasn't slick in the slightest. Since tile didn't retain moisture well, the floor was one of the few surfaces not polished with ice.
The rat led her into a large rectangular room left of the entry hall which served as Rowan's kitchen and dining hall. While the room had two entrances, Henry brought her through the one furthest from the front door, which also put her right in front of the large Grizzleheim styled stone fireplace Rowan used for cooking.
"Thank Bartleby for fire!" Alia hoarsely cried as she knelt before the flames, heat seeping into her.
"I had a feeling you'd appreciate a little warmth during your visit," a cold, stony voice remarked behind her, causing Alia to jump in fright, static crackling over the decaying cloth encapsulating her. Her eyes were wild with fright for a moment before her brain registered the scene and she slumped against the warm mantle.
"What the heck Rowan? Couldn't you at least have said hi as I walked in or something?" Alia chided, wrapping her cloak tighter around her. "Henry, get me Rowan's comforter from her bed or something. Even with the fire I'm still freezing," she ordered as ice glazed her nose and she filled the air with her condensed breath. Similar puffs didn't form in front of Rowan though; she apparently wasn't even bothering to fake breathing to appear normal today.
"I'm sorry about the temperature," Rowan apologized.
"Yeah, you better be," Alia snapped, "lousy hosting job when you freeze your guests. I mean, what the hell have you been up to around here?! I sent you off to calm down, chill out, and then return to society as a non-murderous human being. And instead I find your house looking like Felix Navidad moved in and set up shop for the holidays, and it's the middle of summer in Marleybone! And let's not forget the horrendous hike I took to get here!" Alia grimaced and gave Rowan a narrowed gaze. "Early afternoon Rowan. Are you aware that's what time it is? Because it looks like damned midnight outside! Everything in a block's radius from your mansion is shrouded in fog so thick you can't tell the sun's up! Miguel tried to pay you a visit and get some answers but he couldn't make it past the front gate without pissing himself and running off, and the whole damn street is deserted now! And what in the name of Grandmother Raven have you done to your floor?!" One of Alia's arms finally poked out of the ragged cloak towards the offense.
It was a chalk drawing of three concentric circles surrounding Rowan's lounge chair, small runic symbols hugging the edges of the lines. Triangles radiated from the innermost circle like a child's depiction of the sun, and within the circle were three Death symbols, the swirl-lined skulls overlapping beneath Rowan while the jaws radiated out like spokes of a wheel.
"It's a page I took from Talon's book," Rowan replied with a hint of annoyance. I had hoped she'd wait a bit to start shouting at me, but at least she's stopping to let me speak. And let herself breathe. "An old magic that predates wand casting, it's a ward circle meant to trap undead and demons." Rowan paused to let that sink in for a moment in Alia's mind. "It's protecting you from me, if I lose control."
"Thank you Henry," Alia took the large comforter from the rat butler and moved to the lounge chair positioned on the other side of the fire from her sister, draping it over the chair before sitting down and forming her cloth cocoon. "Well it's not doing a very good job of protecting Marleybone from you, so I don't know what good it will do me," Alia commented, glaring at her sister. "Seriously, what the hell is making you scare off a whole population?"
"That's a side effect of the Angel of Death's presence," Rowan explained.
"Angel of Death?" Alia raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Seriously? You're romanticizing your murderous alter-ego now?"
"The wings are angelic and it is obviously a creation of Death," Rowan replied matter-of-factly, "so it seems fitting."
"So this 'Angel of Death' is why you haven't bothered to even check up on me or Talon in over a week?" Alia's question carried obvious disapproval. "What is it anyways?"
"Yes, it is why I've been so out of touch," Rowan snapped, her irritation with her sister's manner beginning to break through. Small wisps of shadow danced across her feet as she continued her answer, fingers gripping the armrests of her chair. "Mostly because I was afraid I might lose control near Talon again and I figured nobody would want me around them if I could become murderous at any moment. As to what it is, I've had no luck in Necromantic literature but I did visit Death recently for answers and he says the Angel is my true form, a manifestation of my undead self, hidden by the residual life energy from my stillbirth."
"You believe him?" Alia asked, a bit awestruck by the possibility that her sister was actually more Reaper than human.
"Of course not," Rowan sneered, "he is Death after all. Trickery is his modus operandi. After a few days of Moodhist mediation I'm beginning to think he may have actually attached a malignant spirit to my soul, and the Angel of Death manifests when that spirit exerts more control over my body. If it is a spirit though, he's not playing easy to find."
So my sister might be possessed instead, Alia thought for a moment, then sneered mentally. Isn't that just a fitting fate for her? "Well," Alia sighed dramatically as she shifted in her cocoon, slouching for added effect, "sounds like you've got too much on your plate to worry about us poor little mortals right now." Her brown eyes shot daggers at her elder sister.
"Seriously, Alia?" Rowan shot back. "You've got to start that now? I'm tired of this isolation, even if it's for safety's sake. I don't think it's helping me bring the Angel under control at all. I invited you here because I wanted to know how you 'poor little mortals' were doing. I want updates!" She gripped the chair arms firmer.
"If all you wanted was information I could have wrote you a letter and saved myself the stroll through hell outside," Alia snarled. "You've got some nerve thinking I've got all the time in the world to come over and visit your frozen ass. I've been so busy fixing the mess you made of your ex-boyfriend I've barely had time for school, let alone deal with you," Alia didn't even bother trying to sugar-coat her displeasure with her sister by now, static electricity building across her body and causing her hair to dance. "By the way, he's doing just fine, no thanks to you. I appreciate you breaking his bones instead of pulverizing them completely; it's made it soooo much easier to heal him!"
"I didn't break any of his bones, Alia," Rowan retorted with narrowed eyes when Alia finally stopped to breathe, "everyone else did." It was a cold, matter-of-fact statement Rowan barely managed, inflections of rage dashed upon random syllables. She was trying hard to keep herself on the edge of calm, to not plummet into an anger that could risk Alia's life. Tragically, it was that very same tone that pushed Alia further over the edge.
"I've been sleeping on the floor for over week for scant hours at a time," Alia returned sharply, "fixing your damned lunatic ex-boyfriend! I'm too tired to properly lay the blame." Alia's hands emerged from her cocoon to rub her face and brush off ice. She sighed in helpless aggravation. "I not even sure why I'm caring so much about his health… oh wait, could be because he is a close friend! A close friend you and Kane carelessly hurt, not even thinking he might go infernally crazy!"
"How were we supposed to know he'd react like that?" Rowan responded, shadows swirling like a miniature typhoon over her feet. Henry had been standing near the door, close to the fire, but decided some other room would be safer and scampered off.
"Nobody knew he would, but that doesn't change the fact that you went behind his back, went behind your sister's back!" Alia shouted, bolting onto her feet and leaving the blanket behind. Static built up around her with such swiftness she was sparking. She was on the edge of cracking, a cloud of electrical anger poised to release its furious energy upon the world.
"I said I was sorry!" Rowan cried back.
"YOU THINK SORRY IS GOOD ENOUGH?" Her sister's voice rang in Rowan's ears like the howling winds of Grizzleheimian storm. There was an instant of incomprehension as the world went white around them.
There was likely nothing Kane would experience in his lifetime that would compare to going through a Stormgate. He may have been a novice sailor, but even he felt the ship enter the magical portal. The entire Enterprise groaned like a Titan waking from centuries of slumber as it shuddered with teeth chattering force. For a moment Kane was certain the entire ship would be torn apart board by board from the inside out, his eyes worriedly glancing at the fasteners in the wood.
In short order the ship quieted, but to the extreme. Not only had the shuddering and moaning stopped, but all sound ceased to register in his ears. Even his breathing was silent.
And then there was the weightlessness. Kane was lifted off the bed he had been sitting cross-legged upon, floating aimlessly. He reached out to grad the mattress beneath him, but that just followed him into the air, his attempts to grab it causing the mattress to turn towards him and corner him against the wall. The ropes he'd used to tie down his weapons must have come free due to the shaking and lack of gravity, sending his weapons into the air around him. He kicked out to get some distance from them, and each action sent weapon and owner their separate ways.
Then the world seemed to go bipolar, roughly throwing Kane and his belongings against the floor with such strength he saw stars and his sword stuck in the floor. Kane groaned, and tried to push himself up but the world fought back. His whole body felt compressed, and Kane grit his teeth to avoid crying out in pain.
And then it was lifted from him, and the great groaning returned, the ship shaking violently enough to toss Kane under the frame of his bunk. Kane curled up and covered his head with his hands, preparing for what may happen next.
A sharp jolt knocked him against the wall before the whole ship came to a standstill once more. Kane took each breath with care, listening for the rush of air through his lungs. The sound was there. Thuds followed as the boots of sailors hit wood, the pirates doing whatever they did post-Stormgate. With reservation Kane uncurled, then picked himself up using the bunk frame. The mattress was against the wall, his sword was stuck in the floor at a forty five degree angle, and his spear was rolling along the floor. Kane's whole body protested with minor aches, which he ignored as he got to his feet. There will probably be some nice bruises from that, he figured as he tossed the mattress back on the frame and retrieved his weapons. The whole experience had lasted maybe a few minutes at best, but as Kane recalled the experience it felt like he had experienced an eternity of time.
But now that it was over and done, it was time for Kane to get to work. He had a few days before they arrived in the ports of Mooshu, and he intended to get some answers before then.
Rowan had no idea what happened, but when the world returned to shades of grey she found her sister poised over her, one hand wrapped firmly around the elder sister's neck and the other an energized fist, swiftly bringing shocking pain to her face. As Alia struck her again and again with storm-infused speed, Rowan's mind raced even faster.
She's in the circle! She's on top of me and striking me! That impulsive little- Her mind quickly switched from indignant rage to horror. She's in the circle! If I turn I could kill her! She could feel the Angel rising to the surface like vomit up one's throat, and in a panic she shoved Alia back, wincing as her sister's nails raked across her neck.
The move was unanticipated by the Diviner, and Rowan had put all her unnatural strength into the push, ripping her free from Alia's grasp and sending the teen crashing into the fireplace, narrowly missing the flames. The force knocked the wind out of Alia and nearly knocked her unconscious as well, but a gust of freezing wind brought her to in a snap.
Rowan was a swirling mass of obsidian smoke and bone, her whole flesh peeled away by the magic coursing through her. Her black nightgown had become a robe of shadow, her hair floating around her skull with feathery weightlessness. Her bony fists clenched as she looked at her sister, eye sockets empty except for small orbs of emerald light. Her jaw opened to release an unholy scream as she lunged at Alia, who threw her hands up futilely.
"Diiiiiiiieeeee!"
A sharp ringing filled the room as Rowan collided with the edge of the protection circle, soft green light rippling through the air to reveal the cylinder of energy that imprisoned the demonic girl. She recoiled and screeched in pain, collapsing to the floor in a heap of blackness. For a moment, neither sister moved.
Alia's mind fought to understand what just transpired. She understood she lost her temper, and attacked Rowan, but what followed that was a haze of pain and fear. She threw me into a wall? Alia wondered, her back aching in response. But if she hadn't… I'd be stuck in that circle with that thing, wouldn't I? She'd have killed me, wouldn't she? Alia looked at the immobile mass of her sister on the floor, her previous horrific visage running through Alia's mind. In that form… was it even Rowan? Did she even have control of herself? Would she have unintentionally killed me, like she had Dakota? Alia's heart raced frantically and she felt tears well up in her eyes. She just protected me from herself. She saved me. Alia began to softly sob, ignoring the ache in her chest that each created.
An eerie, soft wail began to come out of Rowan as well, warped and twisted by her demonic form. For a few minutes both of them cried, until Alia finally shook her head and sighed. "Look at us, fighting over boys like our lives depended on it…"
Rowan's skull rose from her arms, emerald orbs expressionless.
"Okay, mostly my life…" Alia corrected, straightening herself so she sat upright against the fireplace; the stone was ice cold, the fire extinguished by the gale of frost Rowan created when she'd transformed. Alia wrapped her arms around herself, shuddering. "I suppose… I should go about this a little more tactfully…" Alia's brown eyes glanced sheepishly at the floor, then back at Rowan. "All things considered."
"That… would be nice," Rowan replied hesitantly, the intonation of her voice wavering between silken and sharp. Her words seemed to echo in whispers around her momentarily.
Alia tried to get up, but found the process too painful at the moment and reluctantly remained put. She doubted she'd broken any bones, but she had a suspicion that there was a killer headache coming her way. "HENRY!" At this point, the rat butler was her only chance for warmth now, the cold already frosting her skin. As if he had been in the room all along, the dapper rat entered the room with matchstick in hand, relighting the fire and bringing the blanket to her when requested. With the fireplace relit, the room was cast in soft orange light, revealing the damage caused by Alia's rage. Just about every piece of furniture in the room was randomly charred in spots, and burn marks ran like snakes along the floors and walls.
Even the blanket had been harmed, sizzling in a few spots that Alia hastily patted out. Satisfied it wouldn't spontaneously combust, Alia wrapped herself snuggly, settling against the fireplace before looking at her sister again. "So… shall we try this again?"
"I never meant to hurt you, or Talon," Rowan answered without further urging, "Or betray your trust in me, but I also… I never meant to fall in love with Kane," Rowan admitted slowly, sorrow overwhelming her voice. "It's just that… Kane's the only person to truly accept me for me."
"I accept you for who you are," Alia responded, trying to keep the indignation out of her voice. "And so does Talon." Rowan shook her head, her raven hair following the motion like the tentacles of a jellyfish.
"Not the same way. You are envious of my condition, but at times unnerved by it. I can tell," Rowan punctuated when Alia shook her head in disagreement, "and Talon was always trying to change me: Make me happier, more easy-going, and livelier. He cared for me, and loved me, but only for who I was, not what I was." Rowan rose slowly to an upright position on the floor, her shadows softening and allowing portions of flesh to reappear over her bones. "Kane didn't care that I was undead. He didn't mind my solemn moods. He appreciated my morbid humor and dark outlook. For once in my unlife, I felt completely loved by someone, in every way possible…"
"And because it's Kane we're talking about," Alia interrupted, "you were afraid you'd lose all that if you told anyone."
"Precisely," Rowan agreed, her eyes released from the shadows to briefly reveal their watery state. "If I told someone, he might think it was getting serious and avoid me… And I wasn't sure how to tell you, without hurting you or Talon. But I did want to tell you."
For a moment the sisters just stared at each other, a cocktail of emotions coursing through the air now, rather than magic. And then Rowan cracked, collapsing into a weeping heap. Her Death magic surged with renewed strength, causing the shielding light to flicker.
"You must think I'm a monster!" Rowan sobbed into the floor, her voice regaining that ethereal creepiness.
"Don't say that, you're my sister!" Alia reprimanded, "I don't think you're a monster at all, you just have… a really serious problem right now. But that doesn't make you any less my sister." Rowan didn't respond and just continued to sob, thinking about the horrible things she'd done to Alia and Talon. "Look, it might be awhile before I forgive you for this… or trust you again… but that doesn't mean I don't love you anymore."
Rowan's shadows began to recede again, her flesh reappearing slowly. Alia smiled weakly as Rowan looked up at her, tears in her eyes, and both girls sniffled and wiped their faces. Then Alia had an idea, and smiled a little more.
"And Talon forgives you too," Alia mentioned, wiggling her hand free enough to begin a minor healing spell. "He doesn't think you're a monster either. In fact, he'd love to see you."
"I don't think that's a good idea Alia," Rowan mumbled, moving back to her chair and using it as leverage to get herself up.
"Nonsense Sis," Alia drew a small Life Symbol with green light within her palm, the minor blessing of healing magic all she was willing to spare for herself to get back on her feet. "You're all he's talked about since I got his jaw working again. He just keeps asking if you are alright. I think it would do you both some good to see each other."
"But I'm not safe Alia… You just saw that for yourself," Rowan could hardly believe the idea even crossed her sister's mind. Sometimes she can be so naïve.
"And you said isolation wasn't helping you," Alia shot back, her body softly glowing before she released herself from the blanket to get off the floor. For a brief moment she steadied herself on the stone fireplace, but after a few blinks and controlled breaths she pulled through. "So, let's get you out of this dingy old house and into some sunshine and salt water and happiness. You look so pale you might actually have died again in here."
Rowan chuckled at that, her shadows almost completely retreating from the change in mood. "You've made up your mind, haven't you?"
"It's fricking cold in this place, Rowan. I'm fricking cold. We could both benefit from an adventure in the tropics," Alia walked over to her sister, ignoring the protection ring and standing right in front of her with hand outstretched. I calmed down Talon, I brought him back… Rowan sighed in defeat and took Alia's hand, the two of them fading away in a flurry of frosted air, sparks, and smoke. I can bring you back too…