Everyone returns to the inn to the pleasant surprise that Cyrus had regained consciousness. Of course, he is still being checked over extensively by their resident doctor, who leaves no stone unchecked.
"Well, your muscles are definitely a bit knotted up. The skin that's gone is gonna need a bit to mend... Any aches or pains? You've been lying down a bit... and uh, I dunno how they treated ya down in..." Alfyn trails off a little, his smile dampening.
"... Ah, right..." Cyrus shifts a bit and winces, still lying down. Ophilia and Alfyn had given him some water to moisten his throat. His body still has those obvious raw patches that are painfully red, revealed under the dermis. Alfyn had covered those with anti-inflammatory herbs and bandaging. The scholar looks apprehensively at the crystal still obviously protruding from his chest. It still pulsates with a soft, reddish light. He can feel it is in sync with his own heartbeat. It's a bit unnerving, honestly.
"And, uh, yeah, that..." Alfyn rubs his head sheepishly as they all sort of stare at Cyrus.
"Ahh, well... haha..." Cyrus manages a tired chuckle, "This … isn't so bad... compared to being stuck in … whatever that body was... It's not so painful."
He clearly is lying a bit, as he twitches here and there at the intermittent stabs of pain. His body is in a strange state of sensitivity and numbness at the same time. He can feel even touch turn into grating pain on parts where he'd lost skin, but he can barely feel his own fingers.
"Is it, like, fused to you permanently or something?" Tressa reaches to touch the stone, only to have Primrose stop her.
"Do be careful, Tressa," Primrose looks impassively at the crystal, "We still aren't entirely sure what this is... and what happened. You wouldn't want to end up fused, would you?"
"But Al's been touching it all morning!" Tressa whines.
"The adults are talking, pipsqueak," Therion smirks, much to the merchant's ire.
"I think we need to regroup a bit," Olberic sighs, "It has been a harrowing day and a half, and we don't have many answers."
"Professor, how do you feel..." Therese looks to him worriedly, "You still need rest..."
"I have slept a good deal as it is..." Cyrus sighs, "I am lucid enough to speak, so it is probably for the best we clear up any queries right now..."
"Alright, let us start from the beginning then," Primrose takes charge of the conversation, "We heard you were running around town with some woman. What was that about? She was the one who led you to the manor, correct?"
"Yes... That was... admittedly a rather near-fatal slip of judgment on my part..." Cyrus frowns, "Her name is Lucia... she is, was, a colleague of mine from the Academy... She had approached me with the proposal that we collaborate in taking down Yvon."
"Yvon is the academy headmaster," Therese elaborates, "Lucia is his secretary... I had overheard them plotting to kill the professor..."
"Ah, right..." Ophilia nods.
"I was perhaps too eager and so fell for her tricks. She sprung her trap on me and I was taken prisoner..." Cyrus looks with some weary relief to Therese, "To my horror, they had also taken Therese as well... And I had a choice to bargain for her life. The exchange was to implant this... crystal... A blood crystal, into me."
"Right, these things from Gideon's lab..." Alfyn frowns, "I still don't get what they are though...! They took so many lives and... they turned you into that weird monster!"
"There are many magics that can be said to be so unknown and esoteric that they defy explanation," Simeon rubs his chin.
"Alfyn hath right... whatten be these stones...?" H'aanit gives an apprehensive look at that pulsating rock, "Tis putten Linde and Hägen at unease afore."
"... While I was unconscious... I believe I may have glimpsed what this thing is..." Cyrus gazes at the protrusion from his chest, "But it won't make sense unless I start from the very beginning... with the book that has been the sole pursuit of my journey thus far."
"...? A book?" Therese raises an eyebrow, "Professor, are you not on a sabbatical for academy field work?"
"Ah, consider this my field work then, haha..."
Linde rolls her eyes.
"The book I seek, From the Far Reaches of Hell, was written by a sage from ancient times. The approximate date is unclear, but it was supposedly rather close in proximity to the Troubled Times."
"Troubled Times..." Alfyn scratches his head, "Ya mean that sorta divine war thing? Usually just old wives talk about it."
"Aye, that would be the one. Also known as Time of Troubles..." Olberic rubs his chin, "It was when there were still thirteen gods... But it was supposedly a time rife with societal issues as war ravaged much of the land and people were extremely corrupt."
"Yes, and it preceded the exact fall of the infamous thirteenth, Galdera..." Cyrus clears his throat a bit before continuing, "The context in this... The Troubled Times are heavily entangled in academia... We have many records of fantastic, horrible things happening. Things that... even with today's magic would be impossible."
"O-oh, I remember this lecture!" Therese pipes up, "You told us that there may be types of magic that were lost; even spells that were sealed away because of their power!"
"Indeed," Cyrus gives a look of pride to his student, "These spells and additional magical powers are believed to have been lost because of their intense ties to the thirteenth god himself. Remember, how we discussed the mixing of magical affinities? Galdera's element was a highly volatile one. Sealed with him was almost all of his domains, and along with it, the powers of much of his following."
"I think you mentioned he was a ruler of the flesh aspect of dark magic, sharing it with Sealticge?" Ophilia puts a pensive finger to her lip.
"Correct. I am very proud of my students here," Cyrus chuckles.
"Flesh and blood... So, you mean this book of yours, or whatever it is you seek..." Primrose looks to the scholar with apprehension, "It's tied to the thirteenth god, like some sort of religious artifact? Is that what you're getting at?"
"That is a possibility... The book is one from antiquity after all. And many such tomes are known to house powerful magics..."
"Blood... Oh! Like what Gideon was...!" Alfyn smacks his fist into his palm.
"That's a terrible book if it teaches people that...!" Ophilia exclaims.
"Huh, that sounds like a black-market item for sure," Tressa rubs her chin in thought, "Why are you looking for this book again, professor?"
"It belongs to the Academy... It was stolen from the archives by none other than headmaster Yvon... who I believe is now deceased..." Cyrus sighs.
Therese looks a little bewildered by all the revelations pouring forth.
"... That meathead, huh..." Therion notes quietly.
"I haven doubt in this tome within human hands," H'aanit raises an eyebrow at the scholar, "Be it any safer in thine Academy walls? Twas stolen once... and we knowen not what they doen with it."
"I understand your concern... But let me assure you that the book is best kept at the Academy. It went missing fifteen years ago. Prior to that, it was quite secure," Cyrus asserts, "I believe that Lucia was sincere in that case... Yvon had planned all along to get his hands on that book... Even murdering the previous headmaster to do so..."
"Headmaster Franklin?" Therese blinks.
"Yes... He was before your time at the Academy... but he was headmaster when I was still a student," Cyrus lets out a nostalgic chuckle, "He was a good man."
"What the heck is going on in that school..." Tressa pinches the space between her eyes, "You got assassinations, crazy headmaster, and a haunted or cursed book with blood rituals?"
"Ahem, anyways... Yvon sought to use this tome for nefarious purposes... However, its language in Hornburg tongue is not easily deciphered... He found a translator here, in Stonegard. He took advantage of that poor man's living situation and made a copy of the tome... which is what we recovered from Gideon's study."
"What if... he's made more copies?" Therion asks in a low voice, partially to himself. There isn't any way to verify that, after all.
"... I would hope not, in that case..." Cyrus provides no assurance.
"That is most unsettling... what sort of nefarious purpose did this man have in mind that he needed such dark magics?" Olberic frowns, "It sounds almost like some possible conspiracy to bring about great misfortune."
"That is what I fear... I unfortunately am not sure what his end goal was... and now we may never know. What I do know is that he had used Gideon's research to create many blood crystals... using these crystals, he controlled several of his own students..."
Cyrus suddenly seems to be struck with the realization of something and he lurches to sit up. He then immediately pales from the effort and flops back down, wheezing. The crystal on his chest flickers as he groans in pain.
"Cy! You gotta keep still..." Alfyn says worriedly as he dabs at the sweat on the scholar from that minute exertion, "Ya can't be jumpin' up like that!"
"M-maybe we should continue this later... Cyrus looks like he needs more rest after all..." Ophilia sighs, also worried."
"No, I-" Cyrus breaks into a fit of coughing.
"We uncovered a good deal of information as it is," Primrose places her hands on her hips, "We'll talk some more later, professor."
It is in agreement that they would let Cyrus rest, despite the scholar's disappointment at his lecture being cut short. But he cannot argue against his current medical caretakers.
…
While Cyrus rests, Alfyn finally ends up conking out after nearly two and a half days of no sleep. The apothecary passes out sloppily on the floor, drooling and mumbling about Zeph's stew burning in the fireplace. Therion scoffs and tosses a blanket over him. The thief then stands by the window of the bedroom, looking out at people moving about the cobbled roads in the latter part of the day. He leans on the sill with his elbows, just watching the world pass.
He glances to the side to see the dancer standing there, leaning against the outer wall of the inn. She had been pretty much glued to Simeon this whole time, but the playwright is nowhere to be seen.
"... Where's your prince charming with the long tongue?" Therion asks with jest.
"He found some books and other bookworms to talk about them with," Primrose chuckles softly, showing some relief after a long amount of weariness, "This is a good town for him and Cyrus. A pity about the professor's condition though. I wonder how long it will be before he is able to travel again."
"You in a hurry still," The thief stated that more than asked.
"... I don't mind," Primrose gives a small smile on the side, "I'm quite … enjoying myself, strangely."
"Because you met that guy again?"
"Mayhap."
"..." Therion still had his reservations about that playwright, "I thought you'd be with him."
"... A bit of time apart is good. I prefer it, really. After all," The dancer leans with her hands folded behind her back as she enjoys the cool air, "I'm not really someone he should be seen with constantly as it is."
She is one of the dark. Simeon is still just a regular person. There is no need to dirty his image with a prostitute by his side.
"...I see."
"What about you, dear thief?" Primrose glances to him, "Did you ever have anyone by your side?"
Therion is a good deal hiding his emotions and tells than Olberic. His face doesn't change as he just looks straight ahead at some lady bringing in her laundry. However, Primrose takes note of an odd look in his eye. It is brief and angled away, but the dancer is very insightful.
"... Once upon a time, eh?" Her smile softens.
"Keep your nose out of my business," Therion scoffs as he runs a hand through his white hair. She is very good at what she does. He would need to work on that to combat this meddlesome dancer.
…
H'aanit rests in the other bedroom with Ophilia running between to keep tabs on her, Cyrus, and Therese. The student seems largely fine now and is walking around a bit with Olberic's help to stimulate her legs for exercise. Tressa is helping where she is able with whatever the cleric needs.
"Hmm... Maybe I should buy some more bandages..." Tressa goes over her extensive inventory, "You and Alf may be healers, but I can probably snag the best prices for supplies!"
"Uh, I-I guess?" Ophilia chuckles a little as she redresses H'aanit's wounds from the fight. To her relief, the huntress is healing very nicely, "Ah, thank the Flame these are closing well..."
"... Tis thanken to thine attentiveness... and Alfyn's," H'aanit sighs with a soft smile at the cleric.
Linde nods affirmatively, resting contentedly against the huntress' side.
"Alright, I guess I'll check out the general store then," Tressa stands and sighs, patting herself down from sitting on the floor, "I gotta restock on some other stuff too while we're in town."
"Would you like some company?" Olberic looks to Tressa, Therese still holding to his arm for support, "It would be best we avoid traveling alone at these times of day."
It isn't terribly late but definitely nearing dusk. Ophilia could guess that the warrior was still remembering his kidnapping in Quarrycrest. It was an understandable fear at this point, given what happened not only to him, but also to Cyrus here. It was a much scarier world than she would have imagined.
"Sure, you can help me carry some stuff!" Tressa grins with an opportunistic glint in her eye, "Do you wanna come with, Therese? See the town and stretch your legs a bit?"
Therese glances back into Cyrus' room before sighing a little and nodding. Some fresh air might help after all.
The warrior, the merchant, and the student walk through the cobbled streets of lay day. The rays of sun can be seen peeking out just over some houses and the distant peaks as the sun dips below the mountain shadows. There are still plenty of people milling about, mostly laborers within the working district. As they walk down the steps to the general store, Therese sighs. She is careful with her steps and Olberic remains by her as support.
"I really am grateful for you all traveling with the professor..."
"Huh?" Tressa blinks at her, "Oh, yeah, Cyrus is a bit nutty but he's a good guy."
"The nutty one is the one teaching you magic," Olberic chortles.
"Hey, nutty doesn't have to be super bad," Tressa wipes her nose, "He just needs some sense in him now and then. Like not going with some suspicious lady and getting kidnapped and all!"
Olberic scoffs softly, "The professor is a well-meaning man. I think he is just a little too eager... Though the same could easily be said for you, Tressa."
The merchant gasps, as if offended. Therese gives an anemic smile as they approach the shop area. There aren't many people here, but some later laborers do loiter about after a hard day at work. Tressa stomps into the general store.
"... I suppose I offended her," Olberic sighs with an amused scoff. He helps Therese sit down on a nearby bench, "How do you feel?"
"Fine, thank you..." Therese exhales, "Anything is better than … what happened. I still can't believe it... everything strange that happened in the Academy was all the head mast- I mean, Yvon's scheme? It just seems so pointless... Why did he do this?"
"I don't know why men do horrific deeds," Olberic folds his arms and seems to think. He remembers his vague conscious state flickering in and out like the candles in Gideon's laboratory. He hadn't been totally lucid, but he could vaguely remember Gideon talking about his ridiculous formulas and grotesque rituals. He might have even heard a victim's cry or moan from the other room. However, he was altogether helpless to act at the time.
His hand clenches unconsciously on his elbow. How he hated this feeling. The same as when he watched Erhardt cut down King Alfred and his fellow men... And the whole time he had been none the wiser. Even when the deed was done, he still couldn't stop that bastard from walking away. Instead, all he got was another trophy...
He absentmindedly feels by the old scar on his temple, given to him by Erhardt. The man was an expert in long swords that were lighter than the great swords Olberic preferred. As such, his blade danced circles on the warrior. But he should have known the man's tricks. They had fought like brothers, had they not? And yet, he was entirely unprepared... caught in shock after witnessing the death of his king. He failed at everything that day.
"... I suppose I also just … inconvenienced the professor in the end," Therese says shyly, holding her own shoulders, "Coming out here and... ha, I don't even know if I'll have the right to attend his classes again after this..."
"Why would you not?" Olberic raises an eyebrow, "You came to warn him, did you not? Even if the outcome is not as you wished, your intentions were good. It is clear you care a good deal for your mentor."
"I mean... I..." Therese bites her lower lip, "... This is all my fault."
Olberic stares at her as she nears the verge of tears. He silently sits down next to her.
"I... was jealous..." Therese sighs shakily as she wipes her eyes, "It was stupid and foolish... but I was jealous of some other student that had the professor's attention... I just wanted him to get reprimanded or something to keep them apart... instead I... ended up getting him sent on sabbatical..."
"... So that is why he has this time to travel outside the classroom..." Olberic nods with understanding.
Therese nods and sniffles, "And then that's why Yvon wanted to find and kill him, I just know it...! If only I had just... sucked it up and studied harder!"
The girl's outburst is brief, but loud enough that some people do turn and glance. She hurriedly clams up and wipes at her face.
"... And the professor knows what I did..." She mutters bitterly, "There's no way... I would be welcome again in his class... I don't deserve that privilege..."
"I may not know exactly why you did as you had done, nor understand your position, Ms. Therese," Olberic speaks candidly, "But I think you ought to discuss your feelings with the professor in any case. If you have wronged him and feel guilty, ask for forgiveness. His answer will give you closure, even if it may not be the outcome you wished for."
"I-I'm sorry... I must seem like such a coward, but..." Therese wipes her eyes again and grasps her skirts, "The professor may never be the same again because of me. How can I possibly face him about this? Even now he's still so weak..."
"Cyrus may be weaker in body, but he is strong in mind and a very considerate man when it comes to his students," Olberic nods, "I think it best you speak with him while you can. Surely you must soon return to Atlasdam, no?"
"Oh, I suppose... I … Oh my, I don't even know how many days it's been since I got here! I do hope I haven't missed too much past my allotted vacation... Not that it matters," Therese sighs, "I haven't any energy in class these knowing what trouble I've caused the professor... And I don't know what will happen to the Academy now that the headmaster is gone... And even Lucia, wherever she's run off to..."
She gives a dry laugh and glances to the warrior with reddish eyes and a slight running nose, "Sorry about... telling you all this... I'm sure it must seem so silly..."
"Nay," Olberic shakes his head, "I am glad to aid, if only to lend ear."
Tressa walks back over and bids Olberic to come with her to the shop. The two of them emerge from the general store with much more product in their arms. Well, Olberic's arms. Tressa has her bag and is obviously delegating the majority of the grunt work to the warrior.
"Alrighty, that should last us until the next month," Tressa giggles, "Let's go back! It's getting late and I'm starved!"
...
Cyrus napped intermittently, waking up only after sleeping an hour or so in intervals. Ophilia looks to him worriedly as he goes back to sleep for about the third time. His sleep isn't quite soundly, as he mumbles and looks to almost be in pain. She sighs. Therion left the room by now, and Alfyn is sleeping on the floor in a corner.
"Trouble with the professor?" Primrose walks in, trinkets clinking, "I would have thought your cleric magic would fix it right up."
"Erm, I'm not sure. My usual soothing magic is quite weak," Ophilia gives an anemic smile, "But this stone is what bothers me... Simeon mentioned it being an element opposite radiant, which is my magic... so would it incur a malady on the professor, now that it seems to be... fused to him? I'm worried..."
"Well, that's a good point," Primrose admits, "I'll keep watch then and you can go tend to H'aanit. She seems to want to see you anyways."
"A-are you sure?" The cleric tries not to appear too skeptical of the dancer.
"Quite. I'm sure the worst has passed. It's a breeze even for me to watch over someone in recuperation, you know."
"Oh... well, then, thank you, Primrose! Please do call if anything develops!" Ophilia bows gratefully and goes back to the other room.
The dancer sighs, eyeing Alfyn sleeping on the floor and Therion curled up in a corner of the room. She sets her eyes on the stone once more. Its pulsating has definitely died down to match a heartbeat. But why? They mentioned it was something made of blood... so is it fused with the professor's blood? If so, then that might explain the fake heartbeat glow...
Primrose can feel a slight energy from the scholar. It is a feeling she is well familiar with, as it synchronizes a little with her own magical affinity. But it felt a bit different. Unlike her whimsical alluring magic, this stone radiated something starker and more threatening.
"Ngh..." Cyrus mumbles in his sleep as sweat beads his forehead. His face shows something like exertion. Primrose takes a nearby washcloth from the bucket prepared in advance by Alfyn and dabs the scholar down.
"..."
She can hear something like a dark whisper from that stone. It speaks in an otherworldly tongue, yet it sounds familiar somehow. It sounds like … the strings of the soul...
Her eyes flicker with some red light at the blood crystal. The whispers don't coalesce much into coherence, but she catches a few words here and there.
Praise... thirteenth... skies of blood... revival... the blood lord... flesh master...
The macabre phrases are repeated over and over again. She tunes them out as she finishes wiping Cyrus down. Just as she does, the crystal pulsates once and Cyrus arcs on the bed as if in a seizure.
"Argh-" His body is rigid, thrusting his chest in the air with his arms pressed to the bed stiffly. His face is contorted in pain.
"Cyrus...?!" Primrose reaches out without thinking and touches the crystal.
All at once, the world around her changes. She's no longer at the inn. Instead, she's now in some strange, reddish dark space. To her shock, she can see Cyrus seemingly being tied down by what look like bloody flesh tendrils and absorbed into the background. The scholar is struggling against whatever force is trying to suck him in.
"Cyrus!" The dancer runs forward and grabs his arm.
"P-Primrose?" The scholar doesn't have much time to be surprised at her arrival in this place, "What are you doing here?!"
"I was hoping you could tell me...!" Primrose growls as the tendrils show no sign of letting go. She concentrates a swirl of dark energy in her palm and swings it in the shape of a whip to lash them back, "Waltz!"
The darkness slashes through some of the tendrils and they recoil, allowing Cyrus to just slip away a bit to Primrose's side. The dancer stares as the origin of the tendrils becomes more apparent in the space: It's some kind of fleshy, grotesque monstrosity resembling a tall mount of flesh. Its base is a mess of flesh that forms human shapes of agony. The top is narrower and opens to show a large, pearly white eye that gazes at them with a red iris. The tendrils that were cut slowly regrow.
"What in the hells..." Primrose feels revulsion and fear rise in her.
"I think you... have entered the crystal with me...!" Cyrus pants, "Unfortunately, I don't seem to be able to use my magic here...!"
"Tsk!" The dancer growls as she begins the first movements of her ode, "Well, wake up then!"
The thing shoots its tendrils at them, mainly aimed at Cyrus. Primrose blasts them all back with a powerful burst of her magic.
"What do you even mean 'entered the crystal'?" Primrose backs away, as does Cyrus, "I don't remember this part of your lecture, unfortunately."
"It's a working hypothesis..." Cyrus says in a hushed voice as the thing advances towards them, "Essentially, the crystal has a space in itself that is akin to a mental, perhaps even spiritual, plane that can entrap people in it... And it is a conduit to the sleeping thirteenth god himself..."
"... So, because you literally have it stuck on you, you've been seeing these things?" Primrose sends a powerful blast of waltz at the thing, hitting its base, but not toppling it or anything, "What even is it?"
"It's not familiar to me... and yes, it seems this crystal is intent on assimilating me into it, into the thirteenth..." Cyrus grips his fist, "It seems waking alone was not sufficient to break its thrall on me..."
"Well, let's try this then...! Strutting waltz of the peacock...!" Primrose growls and coats both her hands with dark magic. They take the form of long peacock tails, which she swings like flails at the thing, slamming it back. Her magic somehow feels stronger here. It might have to do with the dark affinity thing of the crystal.
"Watch out!" Cyrus calls out as the flesh thing swings its large eye back and then shoots a fiery beam at them.
"Ode to the mole...!" Primrose draws her foot in a semicircle as her hips shake and her hands tingle, creating a defensive barrier of dark magic that parries the beam.
"... My daughter..."
A strange voice calls out to her from the space around them. It isn't familiar... and yet it sounds to be so. It's enough to break her concentration. The beam ends up blasting her and Cyrus back with explosive force.
"Agh!" She coughs as she crashes into the ground. It feels strangely warm and fleshy against her skin. To her horror, bloody tendrils reach up to restrain her.
"Oof!" The scholar's clothes get a bit singed as they roll to a stop, "That... was not good..."
As the bloody feelers around them sprout from the ground to tie them down, the flesh monster sends another beam at them. This time, Primrose would not be able to prepare her defenses fast enough. Cyrus instinctively tries to move in front of her to block it with his own body.
"Cyrus, no-!"
"Protect!"
A luminescent aura glows around Cyrus' front, just before the beam can reach him. The beam strikes at the aura and sparks before reflecting right back and blasting its own source on its big eye. An otherworldly, inhuman screech rings out as the monster's eye and folds of flesh leak copious amounts of dark fluid. The aura also seems to drive away the bloody tendrils. As they slink back from the dancer and scholar, the aura fades.
"Huh?" Cyrus looks about for the source of their savior.
"Ophilia...?!" Primrose sees the cleric here in this strange place. She looks a bit confused, maybe surprised, but is holding her staff with determination.
"Cyrus! Primrose! What's going on?" The cleric runs over to them, "I-I heard a scream, and the professor was... and you, Primrose, were touching the stone, so I also..."
"That was a dangerous decision of yours, Ophilia... But you saved us there, nonetheless..." Cyrus lets out a sigh of relief, "Thank you."
"Don't thank her just yet..." Primrose steps forward, wiping some slicked blood off her cheek, "It's still raring for another round."
The cleric and scholar look to see that the dancer is indeed correct. While it seems extremely wounded, the flesh monster is still teetering, swaying like a pillar and still screeching as it sprays whatever that dark slop is. Its eye doesn't seem to be able to focus as well and it shoots indiscriminately, missing the party and striking parts of the space. They can hear something creaking loudly around them, as if the world were groaning.
"Well, at least it seems to be weakened," Primrose swirls a hand of dark energy at her fingers, "What say you we finish this dance on a high note?"
"Dance?" Ophilia blinks.
"Just shoot it on my signal and let's get out of here," Primrose rolls her eyes with a smirk.
"Alright...!" The cleric readies her staff and its head glows with radiant energy, "Stand back, professor!"
The flesh monster swings its head now at the three of them, intent on smashing them into pulp with its larger mass like a spring-loaded hammer.
"Now."
Ophilia's staff lets loose a holy light shot. Primrose sends forth oscillating waves of her own dark magic. The two energies blast the monster head on, making its scream raise an octave before it fades out and the space around them is heard cracking. Fractures of white form on the dark red space and the entire inner realm shatters.
…
"Ah!"
Primrose and Ophilia find themselves sitting on their asses on the floor of the inn room. Shards of the blood crystal, now turning black, are scattered about around them, having broken to pieces.
On the bed is Cyrus, breathing heavily, eyes wide open. The crystal that was embedded on his chest is now gone.
"Ugh... huff..." Cyrus pants breathily as his aching body stings. Slight veins had risen all over his skin on his face and chest. Where the crystal was embedded is now just a large, blotchy scar that reaches from his collar down to his solar plexus. Sweat glazes his pale skin.
"P-professor?" Ophilia scrambles to stand and check him over, "The crystal is...!"
"Broken..." Primrose mouths quietly as she glances over the shards on the floor. She sees Alfyn still sleeping nearby and goes to shake his shoulder, "Alfyn, something's happened. You need to wake up."
"Ungh?" Alfyn blinks one eye blearily as the dancer wakes him, "P-Prim...?"
"Sorry to wake you, but the crystal on Cyrus broke," she says calmly.
"Huh?" That gets him up as he rolls over and jumps to his feet to help Ophilia look over the scholar.
"Oh my, what a splitting headache..." Cyrus groans as Alfyn examines the large scar and feels for any remaining damage from where the crystal was supposed to be embedded, "So? What is the diagnosis...?"
"It's real tender, so I'm gonna pad it a bit and give ya some hydration. You've sweated up a real storm, Cy..." Alfyn digs through his pack, "Aw, shucks, almost outta bandages..."
"We're back!" Tressa pokes her head in cheerily, "Got more bandages for you healers!"
"Perfect timing, Tress!" Alfyn grins.
Primrose sighs and leans back against the wall as she sits down to relax a bit after the excitement. She had just been sucked into some strange space … in her and Cyrus' head... or whatever was in the crystal. They broke it... she still didn't quite understand what that place was in there. However, her magic served her well... in fact, she didn't feel much of any recoil from using it there. It felt almost a little... homey there, for some reason, in that dark, bloody place...
"Professor!" Therese follows in shortly after Tressa and is overjoyed to the point of tears seeing Cyrus sitting up for Alfyn to bandage him, "You... You're alright? What about the..."
"The crystal broke its hold on him, thank the Flame...!" Ophilia gathers up a blackened shard of the shattered blood crystal, "I'm not exactly sure how but..."
"It's quite alright, Therese..." Cyrus gives a tired smile, "I'm feeling much better as it is... Why, even a little hungry..."
"I'll see what grub we got left hanging around!" Tressa steps out.
"Gee whiz, what happened while I was out?" Alfyn looks to Ophilia, "How'd the crystal break?"
"Well, um, I and Primrose seemed to have … I guess, destroyed some monster that was attacking and, uh..." Ophilia struggles to explain the experience, "Oh, but it wasn't a real monster here, it was in some other place after we touched the crystal...? I-It all happened rather quickly so I wasn't totally sure..."
"It was a space within the crystal... a connection between minds and souls..." Cyrus sighs as he takes a sip of water, "It is not entirely clear, but I mentioned this to Primrose... that the crystal is a conduit space. The crystal was trying to subdue me, but Primrose and Ophilia entered that world and saved me."
"Oh! So that's what you meant by … that plane that traps people..." Ophilia scratches her head, "I'll admit, it was still such a fast and dire situation that I don't fully comprehend... but it was quite a place of dreadful feeling..."
"Wait, sooo you guys broke the crystal from inside? By like... going inside somehow... and..." It's Alfyn's turn to scratch his head, "Ahh, I don't really get it, but you guys did something great, and Cy is fine so... good job!"
"Oh, I can hardly take any credit... Lady Primrose was very calm and controlled through the whole battle," Ophilia looks to the dancer.
"Thank you all for everything," Therese bows deeply to them, "I don't know what else to say … You all saved me and the professor..."
"Cy's a good friend. Wouldn't let anything happen to 'im, or you!" Alfyn grins and gives a hearty thumbs up, "Don't sweat it!"
"Now that I am more lucid, I would like to discuss more on the aftermath of what transpired, exactly," Cyrus sighs, "Has anyone returned to the manse at the top of the manor district?"
"The one with the hidden staircase?" Primrose stands and pats down her dress, "No but... I know a certain thief with a purple poncho would not be against looking."
"Yvon had used the crystal's power to control the minds of students. They were part of his graduate classes..." Cyrus shakes his head ruefully, "Did you see any of them perchance? Are they alive? We need to ascertain so we can properly alert their families..."
"Uhh... I don't remember seeing 'em..." Alfyn frowns and taps his head, "We knocked 'em down to get past and then... they didn't come after us. And then you came in that big ol' giant form with Prim and..."
"I don't recall..." Cyrus frowns as well.
His eyes slowly glance towards the dancer standing silently by the door to the room. Her eyes and expression betray nothing.
"... Primrose, did you see what happened to the students? I can't simply let their well-being slide..."
The dancer lets out a small sigh, "... I didn't want to say. It wasn't pretty."
"...What happened?" Cyrus asks bravely.
"... It looked as if the stones in their bodies burst or something. They were bleeding out, motionless, by the time I was able to coax you out of that room in your enraged form," The dancer says airily with some detachment, "I barely recognized them."
"Oh..." Ophilia sucks in a breath, "How awful..."
Cyrus seems visibly upset as his hand curls on the sheets over his legs. A steely look comes over his eyes as he looks down. Therese looks at him. She can guess he's probably blaming himself. She reaches over and clasps one of his clenched fists in her hands.
She probably doesn't have the right to say anything. After all, a lot of this might have been her fault. But still... she wants him to know she is there.
"... It's alright, professor... There was nothing else you could have done..." She murmurs softly.
The scholar looks to her with some troubled eyes and then sighs. He unclenches his other hand and pats her hands clasping at his fist, "...Thank you, Therese..."
...
As expected, the scholar is not one to rest easy following his awakening. He is eager to return to Yvon's birthplace manse to search for any clues as to what transpired. Alfyn is more insistent that he of course rest.
"Here, eat some more!" Alfyn stubbornly tries to get Cyrus to eat another mouthful of stew, "We also got some bread!"
"Oh, this is all quite excessive- mmph!" Cyrus is interrupted by the spoon of stew shoved between his lips. It luckily isn't too hot to be scalding.
"You and H'aanit both..." Ophilia sighs with exasperation, "Much too eager to go and get hurt again while already injured!"
Therese softly giggles as Ophilia leaves the room to go check on the huntress in the other room. The student looks to Cyrus, "They're right, professor. You may not feel as bad as before, but you still seem much too sickly..."
Color had returned somewhat to Cyrus' pale countenance, but he does still look clammy. And with how his wounds appeared, even covered, it is obvious his strength remains far from optimal. Bandages swaddle his tender chest wound and other parts where his skin had begun to heal.
"It looks like that thing was doing a dinger on your body overall," Alfyn holds his chin as his eyes trail towards the tray they used to gather all the broken blood crystal shards, "... Scary stuff."
"It doesn't seem functional anymore, at least," The dancer shrugs as she picks out a blackened shard from the tray, "Is it because we killed whatever that thing was in there..."
"It was a connection to the thirteenth god, I believe... Galdera himself..." Cyrus clears his throat, "I saw a vision of it... perhaps it was a dream... but it was incredibly real... I believe the blood crystal tries to absorb those who use it into that place... where they will be used by the god as nourishment."
"What?" Therese blinks in confusion.
"What about that other person? Yvon?" Primrose raises an eyebrow, "Did you see him?"
"Yes..." Cyrus nods solemnly, "He... was within flows of others... I can only imagine how many people have died to make these stones... all becoming seeming fodder for the god to devour whilst in his divine prison... At least, that is how it seemed. I tell you; it was like a clairvoyant or divinely sent vision...!"
The dancer sighs and scratches her head after putting back the shard, "I'm fane to believe you for now after seeing what was in there... That thing was... unlike any beast in our realm..."
"But Galdera is sealed away... Uh... Hrnn..." Alfyn and Therese both seem to be at a loss.
"I believe the tome is highly connected with Galdera's divine domains," Cyrus says assertively, "People who used it must be exhorted to commit vile deeds to supply the shackled god with souls and blood... That would certainly explain the grisly nature of the blood stone recipes... as well as the vision I had whilst asleep. It's a grimoire to empower Galdera...!"
The conclusive words strike a chord of dread through everyone in the room.
"... but why?" Primrose narrows her eyes, "Everyone knows the Thirteenth almost destroyed the continent back in the day."
"I do not claim to know why anyone would want to aid the Thirteenth. But, seeing Yvon as possessed as he was with his desire for knowledge and power... I'm thinking that perhaps people are simply unaware of the book's true nature..." Cyrus rubs his chin, "That is why I must return to his manor. I need to find out everything he knew or wanted from the tome... all his plans from even before he was headmaster... As it could very well lead me to Lucia."
"Y-you're looking for Lucia?" Therese gasps, "Whyever for?"
"None of you discovered the book in the aftermath, correct?" Cyrus looks about the room and sees only shaking heads, "... Lucia likely has it. She was an accomplice and co-conspirator to Yvon's plans all along... I don't have the foggiest of her whereabouts at the moment, but I cannot risk her using it for anything nefarious...!"
"But you... She and Yvon both want to hurt you..." Therese mumbles worriedly.
"I can't stand by and do nothing with this knowledge, Therese," Cyrus pats her head with a soft smile, "A scholar needs to know when his words will translate to action."
"Yet another way to get yourself killed... I suppose you have a point, though," Primrose sighs, "I didn't see the woman myself."
"Uh, I think we got a small glance at 'er? Before the whacked up Yvon guy started blasting at us, there was someone else that left... towards the woods, I think?" Alfyn scratches his head, "Didn't see 'em after though."
"She likely is no longer even in Stonegard... Perhaps she fled deeper into the mountains...? Anyway, I cannot simply host conjecture. I need to find clues," Cyrus says firmly.
"Well, alright... When the good doctor says you can go," Primrose pats Alfyn's back, "Then we'll come with you, so you don't end up kidnapped. Again."
Therion walks in rather nonchalantly right about now. They can briefly hear some commotion rising outside.
"Hey Therion!" Alfyn waves, "What's goin' on outside?"
"The big manor at the mansion district apparently is on fire," Therion says with the blandest face ever.
Cyrus's head flops forward on the sheets covering his lap in defeat.
…
The manor that was Yvon's birthplace is lit brightly with orange and yellowish flames that dance about in the night, illuminating much of the manor district as a whole. The stubborn scholar pulled himself out of bed with his friends to see the spectacle. A sizable crowd has gathered to watch. Some people shout to get water and put it out. The local fire brigade is forming a human chain to carry water from the nearest well.
However, it is obvious that many people do not seem to care too much if the house burns down. As Lucia had told Cyrus, the house isn't exactly a popular or sacred place among the locals. It also isn't directly abutting any other house, and the fire likely will have a hard time spreading beyond its gated walls. So, most people seem content to point and just murmur about it.
"Excuse me..." Cyrus limps a bit with Alfyn's help and approaches a fellow onlooker, "What happened?"
"You barmy in your bits? It's a fire!" The pudgy man with curly hair exclaims the obvious.
"I mean how this happened! And when?" Cyrus exclaims.
"Uh, I just passed by meself and saw the whole thing lit like a fir! Haven't thought about how it started though. Twas an old house..."
"It just suddenly caught fire!" A neighboring person helpfully interrupts, "I done seen it with me own two eyes! Passing by, I was, and there was something like a spark in there before I saw the slightest of smokes. Before I knew, the whole thing was lit!"
Cyrus nods, digesting the information. He looks to Alfyn at his side, "I need more information... This is all too strange. I have a feeling that Lucia is trying to cover her tracks..."
"We'll help you ask around!" Alfyn nods and then looks to the student, dancer and thief who came along with them. Therion is unenthused. Primrose smiles politely. Therese nods.
"Of course, professor!"
"Come along, then," She chuckles and pulls the thief along by the hem of his poncho, "Let's ask around."
"Primrose?" The dancer hears the playwright call for her from within the crowd. Simeon makes his way over to her, "What are you doing here?"
"Simeon? Ah, you came to watch as well?" Primrose lets go of Therion's clothes, "We heard the commotion and came looking. Did you see what happened by chance?"
"Erm... It seemed like a spontaneous fire... Perhaps there were squatters in there that left a fireplace burning?" Simeon scratches his head, "It is much easier to envision how a full house catches flame than an abandoned one from the inside..."
"Right... if it is abandoned, the cause more than likely was outside..." Primrose glances to the fire that isn't being beaten back at all, "Perhaps it really was covering it all up."
"Covering... Ah," Simeon realizes what she means, "But the underground should surely remain intact. Once it has all burned away, the cellar should be exposed!"
"There were things besides the cellar that we unfortunately did not see... I would imagine it had a trove of books perhaps..." Primrose thinks for a moment, "...Evidence."
"Evidence of … what was going on below, you mean?" Simeon tilts his head.
"Oh, never mind," Primrose chuckles, "I was just musing a bit. It really seems like no one saw how the fire started, hm?"
Therion has his eyes on Simeon but slowly edged away from the two of them, stepping into the crowd to blend in. The hairs at the back of his neck are still pricking around this guy... He might have wanted to second guess his gut before, but after seeing what Matthias did, he figured his own instinct was the best guide after all.
Meanwhile, Alfyn, Therese, and Cyrus are conducting their own little interviews with little more success. No one knows exactly how or when the fire started, merely that it was smoking one moment and then a fire was licking its way across the wood the next.
Alfyn takes note of Cyrus' face of intense concentration and frustration over the lack of crumbs. He chuckles good-naturedly.
"Say, let's head back for some grub, eh?"
…
Therese doesn't really mind the peasant quality food as she sips the simple meat and salt stew with Alfyn's touch of herbs. Her belongings were taken from her after she was kidnapped, leaving her without any leaves. But, to be sitting in this cramped inn with these people and eating some simple soup with the professor... It somehow made her feel warm. Perhaps it's knowing that the princess herself would never have this time with him.
"So... what now?" Tressa looks to Therese and Cyrus after swallowing her food, "We all got our plans charted a bit. Just you two left."
"Ah? Is that so..." Cyrus slowly chews on some gristle, "And where are you all headed?"
"North," H'aanit says tersely, "To Stillsnow."
"Goldshore's along the way, and I still gotta check out that plague issue Pequod mentioned!" Alfyn grins.
"Essentially, we are all going more or less northward of here," Olberic nods.
"I am just content going with Primrose," Simeon laughs.
"So, what about you?" Therion grunts at Cyrus.
"Hmm..." The scholar looks to Therese on the side, "I want to bring Therese back to Atlasdam, for sure. That should be my priority."
Therese hides her pout and protest a bit. She knew the professor was being very kind and considerate as it is, considering how much trouble she caused for them all. But it would have been nice if he considered taking her with him...
"And then there's the issue of Lucia still..." Cyrus sighs, "I'm afraid I never knew her very well... so I cannot hazard any good guesses where she may be..."
"... Isn't it obvious," Therion slurps his soup.
"Hm?" Ophilia looks to the thief, "You know where she went?"
"No, but don't you think she'd try to get away by boat?" The thief says as-a-matter-of-factly, "After burning down a house, seems like the next logical step to go into hiding or whatever."
"That is... true..." Cyrus rubs his chin, "If she were to escape off the continent with From the Far Reaches of Hell..."
"The nearest ports for that are in the Coastlands!" Tressa points out, "So I guess you can hit up Goldshore too!"
"Yes, and on the way to Atlasdam. Convenient," Primrose chuckles.
"Or just pay a boat to get her back to Atlasdam. That works, too," Therion speaks up, "No need to walk around with her."
"I-I would much rather... going with you all!" Therese stutters suddenly, "To Goldshore! And then back to Atlasdam. I... I would hardly mind going further away, even... But I know professor is worried, and as are my parents likely..."
Olberic nods, "We will keep you safe on the road, rest assured."
Cyrus looks to Therese at his side and gives an awkward smile, "It is failure on my part it seems, to get you home posthaste."
"... That is no fault, professor..." Therese smiles awkwardly as well.
"... Well, guess we're headed to Goldshore with another plus one!" Alfyn announces jovially.