Chapter Text
Io moved fast- faster than she’d ever ran before. She knew the way to the boys’ ramshackle old ‘home’ by heart, tucked away in the farthest corner in the market- however, it was undeniably rush hour, and every bit of crowd that got between her and her son set her rapid anxiety up another ten notches. At this rate, Io feared she may begin hyperventilating before she even reached Logen- and the one thing keeping her from spiralling in the moment was Tharaêl's steady presence as he kept Aerev tucked safely between them, and kept the worst of the crowds out of the way with snapped commands.
“Tharaêl...” Io hissed out on a nervous breath. “Can you do something for me?”
“Of course.” He assured her, hand immediately drifting to his sword hilt. Io felt Aerev shakily grasp her sleeve. She recognised her son’s hesitance and shook her head, glancing over her shoulder to fix Aerev with a reassuring smile.
“No, no. I just need you to get both of my boys out of there. Please, get them to the Nobles Quarter. I have a home by the end of the river. It’s directly across from the bathhouse, by that statue in the river- you can recognise it from the clothesline on the side and ivy growing up to the second floor window.” She explained, eyes seeking Tharaêl’s. His face was hard, but Io saw the concern swirling underneath his usual steely mask.
“Alright… I’ll try to be back for you as quickly as I can.” He promised, nodding at her.
“Just make sure they are safe first.” Io corrected him, before glancing back down to Aerev. “Do you have your key?”
“No..” Aerev whined nervously, eyes darting ahead as the trio turned the corner and caught sight of Willard’s shack. “Logen has it, he put it in the box of things we were going to carry out.”
“It is alright sweetheart, Tharaêl will help you get your things. You can trust him, he is a close friend of mine.” She murmured, nodding slightly as Tharaêl’s eyes darted to meet her own. His brows softened in response.
Io took in a steadying breath and then another as she clenched her fists tightly. She pushed down the innate urge for her lightning to skitter up her arms, leaving her feeling slightly nauseated, and forcefully shoved the front door open.
Inside was the usual clutter of empty bottles and broken crates, Io noting two small beds pushed against the far wall and the hall beside them that led to Willard’s room. Io’s heart dropped to her stomach when she didn’t immediately see Logen. Then she heard a quiet groan to her left, and her heart stopped all together when she saw the normally energetic boy sprawled out on the floor under the grimy window and pressed against the wall, his head buried under his arms and knees curled up to his stomach.
“Logen..!” She choked out, dropping to the floor and leaning over him, her hands hovering frantically over his body. “Oh, Logen- I am here, everything is going to be okay.” She called, fighting to keep her tears back and voice steady. She gingerly reached for his arm, wanting to check his injury, and had to swallow past the lump in her throat when her son flinched at the contact. Slowly he unfurled, and his fear-glazed eyes settled on Io. Fresh tears welled in the corner of Logen’s eyes when he recognised her, and he let out a sniffle as he hesitantly crawled over to Io’s lap. Io mutely heard Tharaêl murmur something behind her, and she felt Aerev’s warmth press against her side a moment later.
“Mum… my head f*cking hurts.” Logen whined quietly, one hand cradling the right side of his head.
“I know sweetheart- let me take a look.” She asked gently, pulling him up and brushing stray hairs out of his face. When he finally drew his hand away, she stiffened at the amount of blood coating his palm and slowly dripping down the length of his arm. His red hair was noticeably stained a shade darker and his right eye was firmly shut, congealed blood leaving a trail down his face and fusing his eyelashes together. Her hand trembled as she prepared a health spell, hovering it over her son’s temple, and Io grit her teeth with fury and self-regret when it stopped the bleeding, but her limited skill in Light magic was left unable to fix the heavy blow.
She pulled Logen close to her with one hand while she shimmied out of her pack, twisting around to shove her other hand in and search her stock of potions. When her fingers brushed against the two largest bottles with skinny necks, she quickly yanked them both out- a quality health potion and elixir of regeneration she’d been saving for emergencies. Aerev took one from her shaking hand, pulling at the cork till it released with a loud ‘pop.’
“Okay Logen, I need you to drink these. They will help. Can you do that for me?” She murmured, sitting him up as Aerev pushed the bottle closer to Logen.
“Mm..” He hummed, his good eye drooping with exhaustion. Even still, he drank the potion as Aerev placed the lip of the bottle at his mouth and tipped the contents down his brother’s throat. Aerev was breathing hard, his eyes wide and misty with worry, but his hands were steady as he coaxed his brother to finish the whole potion.
Io took over once the first had been finished, uncorking the elixir and also helping Logen drink it- a ragged sigh of relief escaping from her when she saw the sluggish glow of magic as it worked to stitch his wound closed. Logen began to perk up quickly, colour returning to his face as he rubbed at the dried blood fusing his right eye shut. Even still, Io held him close as she pushed his hair aside to ensure the wound had closed completely.
“Well. That sucked. What a ‘smashing’ way to end the day, huh?” Logen half-laughed, half-coughed out, cringing as Io tenderly inspected the cut. It had fully sealed, leaving behind a long, faint white scar that started from the side of his head and ended just above his temple.
“Oh, for f*cks sake, Logen!” Aerev snapped, glaring at his brother. “I thought you were gonna die- can you please save the jokes till later?”
“No, no I cannot.” He grinned back, groaning in protest as Io squeezed him in a tight hug.
“Lightborn help me, you are such a menace. I am so, so happy you are okay.” Io murmured, petting his back in soothing circles. Logen’s smile wobbled, his face scrunching up in an effort to keep his tears in as he buried his head in the crook of Io’s shoulder. Aerev shuffled closer, and Io pulled him into the hug with a tearful laugh, holding both her boys close and simply breathing in the fact that they were both here. Both alive and safe, if a bit worse for wear.
Io jumped, startled, when she felt a warm hand on her shoulder, but glancing behind her she relaxed, throwing Tharaêl a watery, grateful smile. He nodded in response, his eyes reflecting a hesitant warmth, and held up an intact box stuffed full of clothes and books. A familiar key was held in his other hand. Io inhaled shakily before grabbing Logen’s shoulders and pushing him upright again.
“Okay boys. I need to have a… long talk with Willard. I want you two to go with him.” She explained, motioning to her partner crouched beside them as he leaned over Io. “He will get you both home safely.”
“And who are you?” Logen scowled dubiously, eyeing the short swords at Tharaêl’s hips.
“A… friend of your mother’s. Tharaêl Narys.” Tharaêl offered, pushing back his hood and bowing his head in greeting.
“He’s good.” Aerev mumbled to Logen under his breath, glancing over at Io. She smiled in response and released Logen. Her nerves twitched to reach back out- she didn’t want her son out of her sight after that scare- but as Tharaêl helped her stand, she knew her boys would be in safe hands.
As the boys were gathering themselves, Tharaêl leaned down, his bandana brushing the shell of her ear as he whispered to her.
“He’s in the back, pissed drunk. Angry. Be careful.” He murmured, one hand smoothing across her back, before he drew away, passing the boy’s belongings to Aerev. Io’s eyes narrowed in sharp hatred, sparks dancing between her clenched fingers before she could stop herself. Tharaêl threw her a stern look over his shoulder as he corralled Logen and Aerev out the door.
Io pivoted, inhaling and releasing repeatedly to try and steele herself- she’d need a lot of patience to get through this discussion, and after finding Logen beaten bloody she’s fresh out.
“Willard!” She snapped, turning a corner and finding the bastard wading through a mountain of empty bottles around his dirty mattress, seemingly checking each one for any remaining liquor. “Willard, I know you hear me.”
“Pissh off!” He slurred back, glancing over his shoulder to glare at the Arazalean mage. “All you’s do is nag nag nag- I don’ wanna hear it! f*ckin sh..unchild immigrant. ” He added under his breath, teetering forward before catching himself on the wooden wall.
“f*cking nag ? You think I’m here to ‘nag’ you after you hit Logen on the head?? With what, another damned bottle?” Io hissed, shoving her hood back and kicking one of the skinny decanters towards him.
“Sersh- serves him damned right! YOU come along, fillin’ my boysh’s heads with non.. Nonsense little ideash like talkin’ back! Who the hells do you think you are?” He snapped, taking one of the bottles in hand. Io eyed it warily before refocusing her hateful glare on him.
“ You were the one who dumped the care of the boys on me when you learned I had taken them under my wing. I was a better parent to Logen and Aerev in the year and a half I’ve known them than you have been their entire lives! ” Io shot back, lightning dancing up her arms in frustration. “I cannot believe you would dare call them your sons- you have never been a father to them, and you never will be. I am taking the boys, Willard, and we are not coming back here. You can rot alone in the Undercity, with your booze and your drugs, for the rest of your miserable, pathetic life.”
Willard yelled, rearing his arm back, and Io gasped, freezing, as the glass bottle was launched at her. It shattered somewhere on her left, but Io’s heart was set racing, fear and anxiety swirling up her throat at the memory that surged forth- and suddenly, she was just a little girl again.
“They are my gods damned property!” Her Daddy- wait, no- Willard , raged, yelling to no one. “If they think they -” no, was it you ? “can get away with this, I’ll just have to kill them- you- myself!”
Then, the hulking monster who haunted her nightmares began ambling away, stumbling forward drunkenly, single-mindedly, towards a table on the far side of the room. Io’s blood froze when she caught the flash of a knife on the table, before suddenly rushing hot through her with a ringing in her ears. An all-consuming, unfamiliar, and burning rage bubbled up through her skin, numbing her frantic mind.
She heard glass shatter again somewhere to her left, and her wide, wild eyes slid over sluggishly to find the neck of a broken bottle gripped in her own hand, glass shards raining down the side of the moulding walls. Daddy… no, Willard didn't even turn around- too busy still stumbling and struggling to reach the knife on the table.
Io felt.. strange. Her whole body tingled like she was sitting on pins and needles, and she almost felt as if she were some third party, two steps behind her own body, watching as it stalked closer to Willard.
She felt like a stranger watching a cage of flesh that didn't belong to her.
A cold flesh that radiated pure rage, pure animalistic hatred. A body about to murder the hazy, red shape before it. All Io could see was red- the beginnings of tears that slipped quietly down her face and dripped from her chin blurred her vision. Her ragged breath sounded out, reverberating in her own head over and over again to string together a cacophony of strangled panic and fear and rage and-- and then she heard it once more, somewhere on the edge of her consciousness- the eerie, familiar tune of a music box.
Io didn’t want this- she did not want this! Lightborn, ancients, anyone - she begged each and every one, because she was so, so tired of death. So tired of being an unwitting accomplice in killing after killing, of having dirty blood on her hands- yes, she hates her father, and yes, she hates her boys’ father, but she doesn’t want this . Yet she watched, struggling uselessly, as the cold, rage-filled body stalked towards an ignorant Willard. A feeling of strangeness mixed with her tears, churning the bile stuck in her throat.
She watched her body lunge, the broken bottle raised over its head, and Io closed her eyes with a silent sob.
Until cool fingers brushed over her eyelids, and a strong, solid arm snaked around her waist and yanked her back. Io jolted, feeling as if her soul had been suddenly pulled back into the unfamiliar flesh. Her eyes snapped open, but she saw nothing- a calloused hand covered her eyes, blanketing her in a calm darkness, the arm a bar that held her in place and steady. The consuming rage that gripped her throat fell away completely, and a sob rose up in its place before she forcefully choked it down.
"Calm down." Tharaêl's familiar coarse voice hissed against her ear. "Breathe, Io. You need to breathe."
Io finally let out the stuttering breath she didn't realise she was still holding, and out came that quiet sob she tried so hard to suppress with it. Fresh warm tears wet Tharaêl's hand, and Io dropped the bottle she still clutched, the glass shattering somewhere at their feet. Tharaêl's arm tightened around her, and she could feel a deep, angry snarl vibrate in his chest.
"Shwut the-” she heard Willard slur, a clatter immediately following. Tharaêl's hand slid from her eyes and he released her waist, steadying her when she swayed from the lack of support. Io's eyes fluttered open, and she saw Willard sprawled out in his own clutter as if he had fallen, his knife in hand- pointed the wrong damn way. He stared up openly at Tharaêl with fear, the half-Aeterna towering over Io. Tharaêl's presence was wrapped around her securely, and Io didn't need to turn around to know that Willard saw his own death written across the Rhalâim's face.
“... Willard, was it?” Tharaêl asked coldly, venom dripping in every word. “You know, there’s a lot of scum here in the Undercity… and no one would care much if one more went missing tonight.”
“Wh- shtop talking big. I get protecshun from the Rhalâta- I pays them ev… every month!” Willard hiccuped, folding in on himself and holding the backwards knife out like a shield between him and Io’s visibly livid partner.
“No, you don’t. Those boys paid the Rhalâta monthly, and they no longer live here now. Even still, it wouldn’t matter. A Voice like me can kill scum like you if he deems it necessary- and guess what, sh*t-stain? I’ve decided that it’s very necessary.”
“V-Voish?” Willard whimpered, his blade clattering as he shook. “But- but your armour-!”
“You and I both know what I am, so stop lying to yourself. You recognised it the minute you caught sight of me- surprising, considering just how f*cking sloshed you are. Pathetic bastard.” Tharaêl snarled, hand moving to grip the hilt of his shortsword.
Io sighed deeply, shivering as the adrenaline and her anxiety finally left her and the chill of the Undercity crept back in. She kept her eyes on Willard but reached back, placing her hand on Tharaêl’s arm to still him.
“He is not worth the effort- not anymore. Let us just… go home, please. I am tired.” She murmured to Tharaêl, shaking her head. And as much as Io just desperately wanted to leave this shack and that strange experience, she did honestly feel tired- Io was left feeling drained and painfully raw after her sudden outburst of anger. She felt Tharaêl’s eyes on the back of her head, and the half-Aeterna hesitated a beat before dropping his hand and stepping up to stand next to the mage.
“You heard her- the only reason you still live is because Io allowed it. If you ever come near her or the children again, it’ll be the last thing you do. I’ll personally make sure of that.” Tharaêl spat, fixing Willard with one last withering glare before turning and placing a hand on Io’s shoulder. “Come on.” He mumbled to her, ducking to block her from Willard’s view and urge her forward.
Io let Tharaêl guide her, her mind going numb to try and process everything that just went down. Io had felt her mind disconnect from her body before, especially during moments of high stress in her childhood, but that sudden onset of rage that felt like someone else’s? Feeling like her body suddenly was a stranger, like it was cold, dead flesh? Not to mention that strange feeling that rose up her throat… she felt an icy shiver shoot down her spine when it clicked how similar she must have appeared to Tharaêl during his episode. ‘ This is… not a good sign. ’ Io thought dryly, mindlessly shoving her arms through the straps of her pack as Tharaêl held it up for her.
“We need to talk.” Io murmured to her partner as his hand came to rest on her lower back again, nudging her forward and out of Willard’s shack.
“Let’s get you home first, and then we’ll talk about that. Those boys seemed worried for you.” Tharaêl responded gently, and Io gave him a dull nod, eyes unfocused. She simply put one foot in front of the other, ensuring she didn’t trip over herself as Tharaêl guided her through the trickling crowds of the Undercity.
She was vaguely aware that he led her through the old waterworks, a sewer system that ran underneath the Nobles Quarter, even as her thoughts bounced around like angry wasps in her skull. When he ushered her up a rickety old ladder and out through a sewage drain pipe, she finally slid back into focus.
“I did not even know this was here.” Io mumbled, half-curious. She pulled herself over the lip of the drain with a groan, shuffling out of the way as Tharaêl came up the ladder beside her. They were in the Nobles Quarter- in the alley between the Theater and the crossroad of the main and rear path. It was impossibly dark out, the moon barely even a sliver in the sky- the only light came from across the river to her left, a single lantern hung above Prince Mirth’s tavern door. Judging from the dark windows in the dwellings around them, it seemed it was late enough that her neighbours were all fast asleep.
“It's not used very often. The only people who tend to stick to the waterworks nowadays are the violent sort, and even they know not to stick their noses out here.” He explained, tugging on his hood to ensure his face was covered. Io hadn't even known he'd fixed it before they left the turd’s shack, but in hindsight it was certainly smart- it likely wouldn't do either of them any good for his fellow Voices to see them together casually before the expedition.
“I see.” She hummed mildly, eyes drifting down the back alley they’d found themselves on. “We are almost there. This alley ends between Gabor’s and my own house.”
“Come on then, let's get you inside.” Tharaêl murmured, his hand sliding back into place on her lower back. The pressure had startled the mage at first, but Io had to admit that it was quickly becoming a familiar, warm comfort.
They walked together in silence, Tharaêl glancing over at her every so often with gentle concern. Io felt herself melt with relief the minute the worn bricks and lovely ivy that made up Riverside came into view. The clothes line still had a few loose blankets clipped up and they fluttered in the calm night breeze, brushing across Tharaêl's arm as he walked beside Io. She turned the corner, careful not to trample the few flowers dotting the brick walkway, and slid up to the front door with familiar ease. Her palm wrapped around the front door’s handle, twisted, and the wooden door opened soundlessly.
The main room was dark save for the dying fire in the kitchen, the embers casting a warm glow over the floor. Two heads popped out from the side hall however, and Io’s numb expression softened as the boys made their way over, the handheld candlestick they carried lighting up their tired but awed faces. Io met them halfway, and she heard Tharaêl follow, shutting the door behind them.
“Why is our house so big??” Logen baulked, craning his head back to look at the chandelier hanging two stories up as he joined her.
“It’s the Nobles Quarter- everything is supposed to be fancy here I think.” Aerev offered, shaking his head.
“That, yes- and I wanted to ensure we had a good home. The large kitchen was my favourite bonus.” Io joked, crinkling her nose at her sons. “I still need to talk to a carpenter about furniture for you both and which rooms you would like to use, so for now you can use the bedroom on the second floor.” She said gently, pulling them both in for a hug. “I know you are both exhausted, and it has been a long day for all of us. I should still have some things for sandwiches if you are hungry however- I will leave it up to you.”
“I am f*cking starving.” Logen whined, melting against Io’s side. “Food please- and then I’ll go pass out.” Io chuckled, mussing his hair. Aerev looked up at Io, timidly raising his hand in agreement.
“Go sit at the table- I will fix them up for you.” She urged, shooing the pair away. They slid onto the long benches gratefully, Logen folding his arms and resting his forehead on them. He’d been through so much in so little time- Io didn’t want to keep them waiting for long. When she heard shuffling behind her, Io glanced back to find Tharaêl awkwardly waiting by the front door.
“What are you doing over there?” She murmured, drawing closer to him and tugging on the sleeve of his leathers. “Come sit. I hope you did not think I would forget your little comment about not eating for two days.” She smiled, tilting her head up to look at him. Tharaêl hesitated, eyes darting between her and the boys.
“I should go… I don’t want to interrupt, and I’m-” he began, his opposite hand brushing against Io’s where she held him. “I’m not meant for this type of thing.”
“Leoran-sh*t. No one is or is not made for good food and company. Moreover, I want you to stay. Please, Tharaêl?” She asked softly. She could see him waver, Tharaêl’s body easing towards Io unconsciously as he gazed down at her.
“Just… just for a bit.” He finally relented. Io’s smile widened into a grin, and she used his lowered guard to yank him by the arm, dragging him into the kitchen.
“Perfect, I could use an extra pair of hands.” She laughed softly, careful not to disturb the boys.
“You-!” He bit back at her, before letting out a long-suffering sigh. She could feel his arm shake as he eventually chuckled somewhere behind her. She released him, opening the sealed cabinet where she stored her perishable goods- a few handy little ice runes kept everything cool for the days or weeks she’s gone. “What do you need?” He asked as she returned with sliced ham, a block of gouda, and a few jars.
“Could you stoke the fireplace, and bring me a few logs from beside it? I want to light the oven.”
Tharaêl nodded before padding away silently, and Io began setting up. Some of the leftover sourdough from the day before was cut, along with a good few slices of cheese, and she had put together all four sandwiches by the time Tharaêl had thrown the logs in the recess under the oven and rejoined her. A simple flame spell lit the fire quickly, and she gingerly placed their food on a bread pan and opened the creaky iron door, setting them inside to warm up and melt the cheese. While she waited she began opening the various jars, setting them aside.
“What are these?” Tharaêl asked, picking one of them up and examining it.
“That one? Mustard. Aerev likes it, so I make sure to keep a jar in the pantry for him even though I think it tastes like ass. I prefer my poppyseed honey mustard with a little bit of mayonnaise, as does Logen.” She answered with a smile, glancing over at her partner. She paused when she caught his puzzled look. “Have… have you ever had any of those before?”
“...No. Back at the Refugee, we mostly ate whatever was available- soup, grains, things like that. The Rhalâta are even worse about food- encourage us not to eat unless it’s absolutely necessary” He answered with a shrug, face dark. Io’s smile fell, but she set her shoulders determinedly.
“Well, we are going to change that tonight.” She promised him, and Tharaêl’s gaze slid back over to her. His face was neutral, but she swore she saw something soft swimming in his violet eyes again. “Grab a knife- let me get our food out.”
Io had made Tharaêl try everything she had, and the half-Aeterna had settled on a combination of mustard, mayonnaise, and black pepper. Her boys had both wolfed down their sandwiches, and she’d had to remind them several times to slow down between bouts of laughter. Tharaêl had sat quietly at her side, food untouched, as he watched them interact. Figuring he was uncomfortable removing his mask around others, she quickly corralled the boys upstairs and helped them get settled in her room for the night.
She took some time to clean up in the bathroom before coming back downstairs, giving her partner enough time to eat comfortably, but was surprised to see him still waiting when she came back down.
“You said you wanted to talk?” Tharaêl prompted when she paused at the bottom step. He reached up, tugging his hood down, and Io’s eyes widened when he reached behind his head to undo the knot of his bandana. His head bowed and he slipped the tie free and tucked the mask away in a pocket, before raising his head and meeting her gaze.
He had an angular, narrow face and sharp jawline, soft thin lips quirked into a hesitant smile, and a sharp, narrow nose. What surprised her the most was the amount of scars covering his lower face- one long scar stretched across the left side of his lips, two separate lines of little scars trailed up his left cheek, and a large, triangular scar marred his right cheek before reaching over the bridge of his nose. Rather than detracting from it however, Io couldn’t help but think that his scars added to his almost dark beauty.
She shook her head, refocusing, when Tharaêl raised a brow at her. Io slid into the bench across from him, folding her hands against the tabletop.
“About what happened back there… I am sorry. I was not careful, although I am not sure what came over me. I have gotten angry before, but never… Well, never like that.” She apologised, wincing. She picked at her fingernails, another one of her compulsive habits she’d never been able to shake.
“Nonsense.” Tharaêl shrugged, scooping up his sandwich and lifting it to his mouth, “He had it coming anyways. I was fully ready to finish him off myself, honestly.” He added, before biting a huge chunk out of his dinner. Tharaêl’s eyes went wide, before his whole body went slack with a heady groan. “Holy sh*t.” He mumbled around his mouthful.
“Wh- pfft!” Io blew out an amused breath, shaking her head at her partner’s dramatics before propping her chin up on a hand. “Swallow your food before talking, please. I swear.” Tharaêl glared at her as he chewed, before gulping it down and lowering his sandwich.
“Oh, shut it. I don’t need you to mother me, thank you very much.” He retorted. “Anyways, don’t blame yourself for getting pissed- this was on him, not you. Are you okay though? You seemed pretty upset during the whole…” He paused, waving his hand with a grimace. “Ordeal. I’m sorry if I got in the way, but you didn’t seem to be all there and I didn’t think you’d want to wake up to find the sorry bastard’s blood on your hands.”
“No, you were right to stop me. Thank you, Tharaêl. It means a lot to me that you did- more than you know.” Io said earnestly, her face softening into a fond and grateful smile. Io was truly grateful to find such a wonderful friend in the half-Aeterna. His ears twitched in response, and Tharaêl averted his gaze.
“Mm.” He mumbled quietly before returning his attention to his dinner.
Io felt like she was floating. Her body was weightless, adrift in the comforting darkness. Nothing mattered here- her mind was silent, troubles far away, and the whispers of her past fell on deaf ears. A strong, thrumming power pulsed lazily through her body, spreading out from her core down to the tips of her fingers and toes. As her eyes fluttered open, she found herself floating in That Place again- she didn’t have a proper name for it, but it was a sort of crumbled pavilion or shrine, all alone in a field of open water. The stars, bright and innumerous and glittering prettily above her head seemed close enough to touch. The only other things in this place were five stone obelisks, each equidistant from each other and shimmering with distinct, vibrant auras.
Io pulled her sluggish mind out of the darkness, slowly drifting down until her now transparent feet touched upon the cracked and worn stones in the shrine’s centre. She studied her hands with a childlike curiosity, the deja vu of the action nagging at the back of her mind. Her body was spectral, glittering like the star-filled sky above her, and she vaguely noticed the ripples of electricity dancing inside her ethereal body like lightning through the night sky. Her form, while wavering and hard to focus on, seemed to be a vibrant shade- that pretty colour of her mother’s old shawl, made with Arazalean dyes. What had she called it, magenta? Mother had told her it was a special colour, one not found in nature but man-made.
She had a distinct feeling she does this same routine each time she comes here, but Io couldn’t recall the last time she’d been in the shrine very well. That was one of the funny things about this space- her memories were always a little fuzzy here, like she was stuck in a waking dream.
Her musings and self-inspection over, Io turned towards the south-western obelisk. She could feel it now that her mind was back in focus- Io had grown stronger once more, and this place had called her back to it so she could choose her next gift. She approached the Mage’s obelisk, as she called it, the rough-hewn stone glowing a rich blue colour. Her eyes trailed up the glowing runes in the Elementalist tree- over her time in Enderal, she’d managed to unlock almost all of the odd symbols, each one enhancing her connection to her lightning and gifting her new powers. The few remaining runes she’d decided to skip were for frost and fire magic specifically, and she hadn’t seen the need to add them when she’d rather save her power for other things.
Io glanced over at the deep red pillar towards the north, and the few little runes she’d spared towards making her mace-arm more deadly. She debated heading there instead, but Io thought better of it- she relied on her magic first and foremost, so she instead reached out for the second rune. ‘Arcane Might,’ her mind supplied for her in whispers as she hovered over it, and she knew that while she had unlocked this boon, she only had the first of two tiers available. Io nodded, before pressing the rune in confirmation and feeling the lingering power settle within her with a rushing sound ringing in her ears as she unlocked the final tier. Her spells would hurt a good bit more now.
Pleased, Io turned away from the Mage’s obelisk and padded back to the centre of the crumbled pavilion. She was ready to leave this place. However, Io paused as she caught something unusual out of the corner of her eye. There, beyond the ruin’s stone pillars and shimmering obelisks, stood a door.
“You are… new.” Io commented aloud, eyeing the strange addition warily. It stood a little ways out into the field of water, nothing but a… simple wooden door. The wood appeared slightly warped with age, laid into a worn stone frame and with a tarnished bronze handle. Nothing seemed to be necessarily wrong about it, but something about the sight sent goosebumps down her ethereal arms.
Io approached it slowly, creeping forward through the shrine and past its crumbling pillars to pause just at the point where cracked stones give way to dark star-stained ocean. Hesitantly, she prodded the surface of the sea with the tip of her foot to test the depth, and was pleasantly surprised to find that she couldn’t- the water rippled underfoot, but Io could walk on the surface as well as she could stone. Io let out a delighted giggle, padding further out and watching the reflections of stars ripple as she walked. She felt the urge to dance and spin in this gorgeous scene, but as she caught sight of that eerie door again, Io quelled her excitement.
The closer she drew to the odd door, the more she realised she could hear something faint at the back of her mind- a nagging feeling that she’d seen this door before. As Io reached out for the doorknob she flinched away, startled by how searing hot it felt even before she made contact with it. Io’s curiosity was getting the best of her however, and she steeled herself before squeezing her eyes shut and darting her hand forward to grab the handle anyways.
“...Huh?” She muttered, eyes shooting open and brows raised as she released the door handle. She tested it again to be sure, feeling that near painful heat radiating off the innocuous bronze knob as before, but- the metal itself felt cool to the touch. Io swallowed nervously, that faint, eerie feeling of familiarity now a desperate shout bouncing around her mind, and opened the door.
“Welcome back, poppet.” An all-too-familiar and slimy voice crooned. Io’s breath caught in her lungs and her mind went blank with a visceral, old fear.
“...No..” She whimpered involuntarily, cringing back from the dark hallway of her childhood home. Her father, the weasley and wire-thin man with sunken cheeks, hollow brown eyes, and stubby dark brown hair sneered at her from his place beside the kitchen table, leaned against the tabletop with his arms crossed. Io tried to backstep, to leave this nightmare as quickly as she had entered it, but her body froze while her mind struggled uselessly for purchase.
”Oh no you don’t, you little brat.” He spat venomously, face darkening with his easy hatred. “It’s been far too long since I’ve last seen you, so you’re going to walk your happy little self over here. I have a lot to say to you.”
“Please, Daddy.” Io begged, her voice now the high, whining tone of a child. “I did not do anything wrong. Please do not hurt me.” He did nothing but laugh cruelly in response. She felt her body being yanked forward forcefully despite nothing being around to do so. She was dragged forward until she stood directly in front of her father, at knee height like she remembered, and craned her neck back to look up at him with tears blurring the edges of her vision.
“You really do nothing but lie, don’t you poppet?” He cooed with a sickly-sweet voice, a rough palm cradling her cheek. It took everything in Io’s power not to flinch away at the contact, since that would only anger him more. “Here I’ve been waiting patiently for months to see my little girl, and she’s gone and forgotten all about me. It took seeing some other dimwit try to do what I do best for me to get you back here.You’re oh so like your pitiful mother, child.”
Io kept her mouth shut, bottom lip quivering. Her father sneered again, dropping his hand and glancing around the room.
“I was going to let you pick out how you get punished today, but since you tried to run from me again, I’ll be the one to choose. Don’t you think that’s only fair, poppet? Oh, don’t give me that look. You know you’ll never be rid of me, so I don’t know why you conveniently forget what happens when you lie and hide from me.”
“Th-this is not real. You are not real.” Io reminded herself, squeezing her eyes shut. “I watched you die. You are dead.”
“Oh poppet.” Her father chuckled, dragging his fingers through her hair. “I am just about as real as you are. And you don’t even know the best part yet.”
“Wh… What?” She murmured, confused.
“I can’t tell you!” He said in a taunting sing-song tone, gathering the hair at her scalp and yanking her head up to force her to look at him. “Now, you and I are going to have a little fu-” He began, before he let out a horrid, strangled noise., eyes bulging. Io stumbled, and felt the whole world tilt around her, her vision wavering. “What the- NO!” Her father snarled, clawing at Io’s face as she dropped into nothingness. His angry yelling reverberated in her head before slowly fading altogether.
The next time Io blinked, she found herself somewhere new entirely. Her mind was still reeling, whole body trembling in dread and unsteady on her once again adult legs. Her heart and her breathing were both rapid, setting her anxiety running wild, and Io desperately tried to calm herself, squatting and folding in on herself while trying to get her breathing under control.
“In and out, Io, in and out.” She whined, rocking back on her heels “Please calm down, please please.” Her panicked breaths were the only thing to break the silence around her, and she took the moment of calm for all it was worth, one minute after the next passing until Io finally dropped her head in relief. The worst of her panic was gone now, and Io was finally composed enough to get an idea of her surroundings.
She tentatively stood, shaking the pins and needles feeling out from her numb legs. She didn’t recognise this place- Io was in another hallway, but this one was made of rough cut limestone rather than the dark wood of her old house. She was flanked on either side by torches that cast dancing shadows across the walls, and behind her was nothing but thick darkness. In front of her however was a flight of stairs leading down.
With no other path in sight, Io inhaled deeply before beginning her trek down, one hand on the closest wall to keep her steady. Down and down she went, before finally she found herself standing at the mouth of a wide archway. Inside was a strange room- it was dimly lit by another torch at the far end of the room, had a large faded rug stretched across the uneven stone floor, and each wall was covered in bookshelves bursting at the seams with various tomes and loose paper and scrolls.
Io cautiously snuck inside, head on a swivel, and she spotted another archway on the rightmost wall. Peeking around its corner, Io froze at the scene spread before her.
Directly in front of her was a small round table flanked by matching chairs. The table was absolutely cluttered with things, ranging between scrolls and diagrams, to books and ink pots, and even a large spinning globe. From what she could see to her right, there was a workstation of sorts lit by an assortment of candles in every shape and size. The left side of the room was shrouded in darkness and half-covered by another limestone wall, but what stopped her in her tracks was the far end of the room. A person was standing there, their back to Io and a book and quill in hand, quietly observing the horrific… thing mounted on the back wall. It was some strange sort of circular apparatus, with a body tied and splayed in the centre in some unholy imitation of a Vitruvian Man diagram.
Her tense shoulders loosened slightly when she looked closer- the body looked to be a fake, thank the Lightborn, although it was no less disconcerting. The face was… blurry, and its features hard to determine. It was also missing any gender-identifying organs, and what appeared to be scraps of paper were pinned directly onto its unnaturally coloured skin. What’s more, two stout, wide braziers lit the scene on either side with clearly magical fire, bathing the apparatus in an eerie purple light. She didn’t know of any flame spells that could look like that.
Io, strangely entranced by the off-putting display, crept forward, standing a few paces behind the robed figure in the centre of the room. Their head tilted toward her in acknowledgement before returning to their observation. Io never caught sight of their face past the indigo coloured hood they wore.
“Dawn is coming.” They announced, voice ringing clear- if strangely androgynous. “Seek the First Seer.”
The world shook around Io once more and she dropped down into nothingness, her vision going black.
Io flailed, knocking her elbow into something hard, and she grit her teeth at the following awkward sensation. ‘Who decided to name that the funny bone anyhow? Liar.’ She groaned inwardly, and blinked her eyes to clear her vision. Where was she now?
Io sat up- she was seated, then. Looking around blearily, her kitchen counter came into view, and there to her right was the oven and fireplace. Suddenly, the understanding of what just happened dawned on her.
‘I was asleep! Then, what was..?’ Io thought, brows furrowing in concern. ‘I need to see Tharaêl. That was no normal dream.’
She stood abruptly, and her head spun at the sudden motion. She’d dreamt of… Io honestly had no idea? All she could remember from the first fuzzy part of her dream was looking at reflections of stars in water, and then suddenly she was yanked into…
Io shivered, suddenly realising she was soaked in a cold sweat. Her arms trembled as the memory of her nightmare returned in full force. She had night terrors near every day, but these nightmares- the ones where her father is just a little too lucid to seem like just a dream? She hadn't had one of those in months, and Io felt angry tears pooling in the corners of her eyes when she realised they weren't gone like she'd hoped. She shook her head desperately, pushing it to the back of her mind and focusing on the clearest part of tonight's dream instead- that strange room and its occupant.
“Dawn is coming.” Io murmured as she padded over to the front entrance, quickly nabbing a loose cloak from a hook by the door and haphazardly grabbing the handle of her pack.
Io slipped out into the chill air, quietly locking the door behind her and tucking her key under the collar of her shirt before drawing the thick cloak around her shoulders. Looking up, the sky was beginning to lighten, deep indigo having traded for red-stained royal blue. Dawn truly was coming, and it was an eerie enough coincidence that it sent another shiver down Io’s spine.
The Quarters would likely still be clear this early in the morning, but not wanting to deal with the nasty gate guards Io opted to use the sewer entrance Tharaêl had revealed last night.
It took barely any time at all to shimmy down the ladder, creep through the Waterworks, and trek through the nearly empty streets of the Undercity- it’s occupants had finally begun winding down from their usual chaotic night-life, leaving Io able to slip quietly past the few remaining passerby’s as they shambled back to their homes. She was at Tharaêl’s shed a mere few minutes after leaving her own front door. Handy.
Despite her cloak, Io was still shivering- although, by now she realised she must still be shaken up by her nightmare, rather than cold. Ignoring it as best she could, Io swung the shed door open, slipping inside and dumping her pack by the door before quickly shutting it behind her with a strangled sigh.
Tharaêl looked up with a start, surprised expression immediately softening to a gentle, if awed, look. The half-Aeterna wore his Rhalâim leathers once more, the mask she’d borrowed tied around his face.
“Io. I was just thinking about you.” He chuckled incredulously, straightening from where he’d been leaned against an abandoned wheelbarrow. Io shook her arms out before wrapping them around her torso in an attempt to hide the loose static electricity skittering up and down her arms.
“Really?” She hummed back, padding over to his side. “How so?” Tharaêl eyed her, brows folding in concern as he took note of the uneasy look on her face.
“Ah, nevermind.” He said dismissively, waving his hand. “What’s wrong?”
“I think the Father called me.”
“Called you? What do you mean?” He asked, brows raised in surprise. “Did he send a messenger?”
“No. I was having a…. nightmare, but it was interrupted half-way through by some sort of vision.” She explained warily, scrubbing her palm down her face as she danced around the memory of her first nightmare in months. “In that dream, I saw a person in full robes… They said that I should seek out the First Seer and tell him that ‘Dawn is coming.’”
“...Psionics. Figures.” Tharaêl grumbled, gritting his teeth as his hands cupped Io’s elbows and she leaned into his weight in kind.
“Oh hell.” Io groaned, her head rolling forward in exasperation. “Please tell me the Father did not actually enter my dream. I did not think that was possible, even with high-tiered Psionic magic.”
“No, it wasn’t your dream- it was an illusion. He must have planted it in your head while we were at the temple and simply triggered it last night. A mental puppet play, if you want to call it that.”
“Why ‘Dawn is coming?’” She asked curiously as his thumbs rubbed comforting circles across her arms.
“No idea.” Tharaêl shrugged. “Probably some kind of passphrase.” Io nodded thoughtfully, the leftover tension from her bad dream finally bleeding out at his warm touch.
“What should we do?” She hummed, letting out a relaxed sigh. Tharaêl paused, his fingers and ears twitching in unison as his head tilted to the side.
“Hmm… Go see him.” He hesitantly answered, and Io nodded in response. “We’ll see what this is about then… But I’m pretty sure he’s already considering you for the mission, and this is his last test. In other words,” he added, triumphant grin peeking out from beneath his mask, “our plan has worked.”
“Then I just need to play along?” Io smirked back, scrunching her nose at the half-Aeterna. He crinkled his nose back playfully.
“Correct. And…” Tharaêl paused, face smoothing out to another one of those soft expressions. “Thank you for filling me in on this.”
“Of course I did.” She smiled, tilting her head at him. One of his hands brushed up her arm gently, his violet eyes searching her face.
“Do you feel okay now? After your nightmare?”
“Ah… You noticed that?” She chuckled humorlessly. “I suppose I was a little shaken up… I used to get them a lot more often, and they did not bother me as much back then. It has been some time since the last one though, so it shook me more than I would care to admit. But yes- I feel much better now. Thank you, Tharaêl.” Io said sweetly. She held in her laugh as his ears wiggled slightly at her praise, the half-Aeterna ducking his head to hide the gentle smile lingering underneath his mask.
