Author's Corner

Shout-out to 5_Stirling_Heartstrings and Fahda_bs over on AO3! Thank you for your reviews on the previous chapter. I hope you all enjoy this one :)

EIGHTH BLOOD

Chapter 60: Erem's Vessel

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A month passed with minimal progress.

Sesshoumaru had combed almost every inch of the country in search of the elusive Iwa Faction. The closest he'd gotten to a lead was a village called Iwa that had once worshipped a deity known as the Radiant One. According to the official records, they'd recently converted to Shintoism, after the old priests had been slaughtered during a raid on the village. A group of ronin had ransacked the temples and killed anyone who stood in their way, except for a young boy who had allegedly sent them packing. One recount of that day spoke of him summoning a tsunami and using it to force the ronin into retreating. Once the village was safe, he supposedly passed through an invisible door and was never seen again.

Isolated in his study, Sesshoumaru checked the maps again. He hadn't been near his father's study since he'd found Izayoi's letter. Perhaps he ought to send an envoy to the spot where her family's mansion had been in case there were any clues there.

"Sesshoumaru-sama? Are you awake?"

He lifted his head from the pile of papers on the table and saw Rin standing in the doorway. She stepped over the threshold and stopped in front of the table.

"Anything?" she asked.

He shook his head.

Her mood deflated. "It doesn't make any sense," she grumbled. "We should've found something by now. I wonder if Jaken-sama's luck has been any better. Have you heard from him?"

"Not yet. The Eastern Wolf Tribe is quite far away."

"I got a reply from Kohaku, by the way. He hadn't heard of any of the stuff I mentioned, but he said he'll look into it. He and Kirara ran into Shippo-chan a while ago, so they've been travelling together. Shippo-chan's final task before he graduates from the Academy is to find a nine-tailed fox and receive its blessing. They're supposed to be very wise. If they do manage to meet one, maybe it'll know something about the Iwa Faction."

Sesshoumaru didn't envy the young fox. Kyuubi no kitsune were notoriously unpredictable, and they were known for having a cruel sense of humour. He was positive that his mother had been one in a previous life. She was too cunning and cold-hearted to have been anything else.

"Should we send word to Kagome-sama?" asked Rin.

"Why would we do that?"

She shrugged. "Octavia-san is her blood. She might know something we don't."

"Hn. Very well. Write to the miko and tell her what has happened."

Smiling, Rin glanced around the room and noticed the untouched bowl on his desk. "When did you last eat?" she asked. "You once told me that it was impossible to concentrate on an empty stomach. Go catch yourself a deer or something."

He arched an eyebrow. "Is that an order?"

"Yes."

He fought the urge to smirk. She was becoming more headstrong every day. Having Inuyasha as a role model in her youth hadn't helped. Whenever Sesshoumaru looked at her as of late, he saw remnants of his brother. It was too late to squash them. Rin was almost a woman, meaning she wouldn't be his responsibility for much longer. Should she decide to marry, her duty would be to her husband, not to him. It was selfish of him to want to freeze her at the age she was now, but he was reluctant to see her all grown up and eager to start her life without him.

Change was inevitable. Time was one of the few things he couldn't control. The knowledge was poison. Sesshoumaru dug his claws into his palms. How long did she have left? And what if she got sick? She'd been revived twice now. If she died a third time, it would be for good. And what about Octavia? Would the Tenseiga work on her? His mother had told Kohaku that the jewel shard in his neck meant he couldn't be revived, so what did that mean for someone with spirit magic? Was she also beyond the Tenseiga's reach?

Do you love her?

Wanting wasn't the same as loving . . . Was it?

"All right," Sesshoumaru sighed, rising from his cushion. "I can hardly refuse a direct order from my ward."

Rin's smile returned. "Good. I'll tell Cyril-kun that he can stop worrying about you now."

"He told you that?"

"Not in so many words. He hasn't been himself these past few weeks. I try to visit him as often as I can. He's always asking after you."

"Does he seem unwell?"

"He doesn't have a fever, but he looks paler than usual. He hasn't been sleeping, either."

"I'll arrange for a healer to bring him something."

"I already sorted it."

The corners of his mouth twitched. "You're going to put me out of a job soon."

Her smile widened. "Don't worry. I'm not cut out to be a warlord. My hair isn't close to being shiny enough." She paused before adding, "Rin-sama does have a nice ring to it, though."

Sesshoumaru chuckled. Rin's eyes widened in surprise, but she didn't comment on it. He left her to draft a letter to the miko and flew away from the stronghold.

A pair of eyes watched him leave, then shifted their attention to the wall around the castle.

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Octavia gazed into a water fountain. Her hand trembled as she concentrated on creating a small sphere and lifting it out of the stone basin. Her magic had turned the water in the sphere purple – like diminished grape juice – but it was still clear and sparkling. The curved surface rippled as it moved, yet she managed not to spill a single drop. Augustus would have been proud.

A servant appeared in the courtyard and dipped forwards in a bow. Octavia released the sphere and watched as it fell back into the fountain with a splash.

"Forgive me for interrupting, Your Radiance," the servant said. "But your esteemed brother requests your presence."

"Did he say why?"

The servant shook his head.

She abandoned her seat on the edge of the fountain and turned to face him. He was a boy around Rin's age, whose name was either Pablo or Peter. She followed him out of the courtyard and down a long corridor. She was used to receiving random summons from Augustus. During the first week, he'd insisted on seeking her out himself, but the novelty had quickly worn off. Now, he was content to have her delivered to him like a parcel. The inhabitants of the kasbah did their best to avoid her, only engaging in conversation when they were asked to escort her somewhere. Despite their polite deference, it was clear which twin they favoured.

Augustus met them at the bottom of a staircase. The servant bowed and scurried away, whilst Augustus smiled at her. As always, she faked a pleasant expression and accepted the arm he offered her. They climbed the stairs in silence.

"One of these days, that smile will be genuine," he said, startling her. "You'll see."

"It is genuine," she insisted.

"You don't have to pretend with me, Vee. I'm not that sensitive."

That's what scares me. He seemed to want to be her punching bag. Did he see it as a means of making amends? There were far too many sins to atone for. It didn't matter how hard he tried to convince her that he meant no harm. She didn't believe him. Not when the image of Taro's corpse was as clear as a midsummer's day in her head.

"Where are we going?" she asked. "I've never been in this part of the kasbah before."

"There's someone I'd like you to meet. Technically, you've already met, but I doubt you'll remember him. He's been dying to speak to you."

"Why'd you make him wait so long, then?"

"He's in fragile health. I couldn't risk you frightening him."

"Who is he?"

Augustus opened a door at the top of the staircase and waited for her to enter first. The hairs on her arms turned erect as she walked into the room. It was darker than the rest of the kasbah due to its limited number of windows. A man in a wheelchair sat by a small embrasure. He was either asleep or engrossed in a daydream. Octavia's pulse quickened when she noticed the familiar crest on his robes. It was the same as the ones she'd seen scattered throughout the kasbah, and on the cover of the Book of Four Souls.

"Is that you, Gus?" the man asked.

"Yes, Uncle," he answered.

"I heard two sets of footsteps. You've not brought that miserable captain of yours up here again, have you?"

"No." Augustus nudged her.

"My name's Octavia," she said. "I'm his sister."

The man wheezed and beckoned her closer. She glanced sideways at Augustus – who nodded – before tiptoeing towards the man in the wheelchair. Stopping just in front of him, she knelt and looked into his eyes. His pupils were grey and clouded.

"This is our uncle, Galen," explained Augustus. "We were the only ones who survived the fire. There were members of the congregation living a few minutes away from our house, and when they saw the smoke, they rushed to our aid. You and I were both long gone at that point, but our uncle was still inside the building. He was trapped under a fallen beam. The acolytes managed to get him out, but his face was burned and he was paralysed from the waist down. Our healers were able to reconstruct his face, but the rest was beyond repair."

"Is it really you, child?" Galen croaked, groping for her hands. "Are you my Octavia?"

She stilled his shaking hands with her own and gave them a comforting squeeze. "I am."

His quaking lips curved into a smile. "I missed you, little one."

Just as she was about to respond, Asuka appeared in the doorway. Her expression was solemn, and her posture was rigid and stiff. Stiffer than usual. When she spoke, her voice sounded tense and strained. "Pardon the intrusion, but can I borrow you for a moment, sir?"

Augustus frowned. "Can't it wait?"

"I'm afraid not. It's about Ryukotsusei's—"

He cut her off before she could finish. "Fine. But talk fast."

Octavia's brow crinkled as the pair slipped out of the room. She could hear them speaking in hushed tones outside the door, but she couldn't make out what they were saying.

Galen tightened his grip on her hands. "Is he gone?"

Octavia blinked. "Who, Augustus?"

"Yes. Can he hear us? And keep your voice down."

"Sorry. I don't think so. Why?"

His hands trembled around hers. "Leave this place. It's not safe for you here, little one. Not anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"He hasn't told you, has he? If he had, he wouldn't be able to control you."

"What are you talking about?" she hissed. "Told me what?"

His grip was painful now. "After its battle with the Shadow, the Radiant One's body started to deteriorate. It would've died if not for our ancestors. They offered their bloodline as hosts, which led to the Radiant One claiming a human body as its own. A vessel, so to speak."

Octavia released a shuddering breath.

"That's what Erem's Vessel is," he continued, trapping her with his milky pupils. "It's what you are. The two of you, together. There's never been more than one host at the same time. It should be impossible. Yet here you are. In a way, it's what's kept you alive this long. The previous hosts all perished before they reached adulthood. It makes sense given the context. Half the power, half the burden."

"Stop it," she murmured. "You're just making stuff up—"

"It's the truth, I swear it. Please just listen. The Church has given up on the idea that the Radiant One will return, but Gus hasn't. The role of Erem's Vessel is to act as a stand-in for the deity, but he doesn't plan on spending his days living in the Radiant One's shadow . . . He intends to become the Radiant One. For that to happen, he needs you."

"Why?"

"Two halves are required to make a whole."

Octavia wrenched her hands out of Galen's and staggered backwards. "You're crazy."

"If you want proof, find your father's spellbooks. One of them talks about a ritual called the Binding. Be warned, it's quite horrific."

"I don't—"

Augustus re-entered the room, silencing her mid-sentence. Galen's mien turned warm, and he smiled at his nephew. The colour drained from Octavia's face as Augustus came to stand beside her. He seemed irritated, but managed to return his uncle's smile.

"Octavia?" he called, noticing her shell-shocked expression. "What's wrong?"

Her heart stuttered. "I feel dizzy. I think I need to lie down."

"Can you walk?"

He reached for her shoulders to steady her, but she recoiled away before his hands could make contact with her skin. "I think I can manage," she said, trying not to snap at him.

"Such a pity," Galen muttered. "Get plenty of rest, little one. I'll be looking forward to your next visit."

Augustus accompanied her back to her room, fretting about her health for the entirety of the walk there. Apparently, their mother had had a heart problem. She told him that she was probably just tired, so he insisted on having the servants bring her something to help her sleep. Unbeknownst to him, she had no such plans.

That night, she paced around her room like a caged tiger, processing the information Galen had risked everything to give her. Unless it was part of an elaborate ruse orchestrated by her brother. Was he testing her loyalty? She'd been cold to him, yes, but she hadn't done anything that would arouse suspicion.

If you want proof, find your father's spellbooks.

Where could they be? The obvious answer was Augustus's private quarters, but no one was permitted to enter them, not even her. She couldn't just barge in and trash the place as she had Touga's study. If what Galen had said about Augustus was true, he wouldn't take kindly to someone rummaging through his things.

He hasn't told you, has he? If he had, he wouldn't be able to control you.

Her stomach was in knots. The circlet was still on her bedside table. Its beauty was an effective distraction, but she saw it for what it was – a gilded constraint. Before she could talk herself out of it, she picked up the tiara and launched it through the window.

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