Otherworldly - A Shadowed Awakening

Peak of Autumn, Week 5, Day 2

I didn’t bother closing the curtains, instead opting to simply fall into the mass of cushions that made up the bench in the compartment. I stared at the ceiling blankly. In the back of my mind, I felt a headache brewing. Despite that, though, I thought out loud.

“And this is the safe part of the forest.” My voice was hoarse as I spoke.

I took a deep breath, my body bonelessly sinking into the cushions, a defeated sound escaping my throat, “The safe part.”

>There are no safe parts of the forest.< The voice had a bitter tinge, and I cursed its very existence. I kept my eyes locked on the ceiling as my face crumpled.

This Goddess’ cursed Skill, the dead monster, the overflowing city, the silent forest, the dull ache of the shadow knife pulling on me. I was overwhelmed. And I felt the moment [Mental Fortitude]’s passive activated. The moment I went numb.

I wanted to scream and thrash –until I didn’t. Until I stopped caring and simply wanted to go to sleep.

I was exhausted, and though my body felt near-fine, my mind was fatigued.

It was too much. Too much. Too. Much.

“Take it back. Take it back,” I whispered, before forcibly rolling myself off the cushions, a desperate thought pushing me to move. That’s it.

I scrambled to the floor of the compartment, kneeling on the ground with my hands propped up on the seat. I folded my fingers together. The idea of prayer was nothing foreign. Not to me. Not anymore. I closed my eyes and pressed my face into the edge of my steepled fingers, and I had no concern for who could hear what. Not anymore.

“Scylla. Hear me, hear my plea –” I paused, and as I spoke, my voice broke, “Take it back.”

She had said she would listen, that I would get an answer. Maybe.

>Not here you won’t.< Tsked the voice, >You need hallowed ground for a God to reach out.<

“Shut up.” I grit my teeth, standing up after a long, silent minute.

No one responded. I was under no illusion that it was my own will that silenced the voice, no. Eunora just had nothing to say. Or perhaps she’d met her daily limit. And unfortunately, I had confidence in Eunora’s knowledge. I knew it, too –that there was no hope of having a Skill removed. Not by the same Divine who granted it.

There were legends about it. Stories of men and women going through trials and tribulations for other Gods –Gods that outranked the one who granted the original boon. And each one was so impossible that the hero of the story usually died. Or their lover died. Or their firstborn. Sometimes, the trial was sacrificing those people outright. It was a pipedream that Scylla would respond –it had only been hours since my Affirmation.

But sense was not driving me. Desire and desperation and a bone-deep numbness I wished to cast away were fueling me. I had no desire to use [Mental Fortitude] in such a way, and that the Skill worked without my consent was fueling a new anger. An anger I had attempted to silence the night before.

As I regained my composure, I laid down across the wooden floor.

I pulled my bag off my hip, reaching into the darkness to find the source of the dull chill that was pervading my mind. The knife. I pulled it out and held it above my head. I’ve maintained its existence for nearly two hours, its shape not degrading even a bit, and though the connection was aching like a sore muscle, I didn’t feel the sense weakening.

I wondered how long I could maintain and what I could do with a knife I didn’t know how to wield.

I let my eyes rest on the end of the blade, willing the blade to remain where it was, hovering above my chest. And then I released the hilt, letting the blade fall. Or, rather, buoy down as my Will caught the blade and empowered it. I could feel the cold threads of mana leaving me and joining the knife in the air. I pulsed my Will, envisioning movement, and I was able to consciously direct the knife around the compartment –below the window, of course. Unless one of the Knights were right outside the window, they shouldn’t be able to see it at all, the darkness it was made out of blending in with the shadow of the inside compartment.

I directed it to turn, slowly, and the blade –which had been headed for the door, faced me pointed end first.

I sat up, and the tip was at the level of my throat. To an outsider, it would likely have looked perilous. But confidence filled me. I knew I controlled the blade. What I wanted, it would do. And if I couldn’t direct it –it would cease to exist. The numbness pervading my very existence was growing weaker, weaker, weaker. Until it was replaced with warmth. I stared at the knife hovering before me, watching the light hit the edge and disappear. The shadow it cast across my legs was a darkness so deep it looked like a cutout from a screen. It was not a metal blade –there was no reflection. This was my power, soaking up the midday light.

Laying back down, I released the knife.

Two verdant green screens vied for my attention.

[Congratulations! Shadow Manipulation has reached Level 4. Class experience applied.]

[Congratulations! Shadow Conjuration has reached Level 4. Class experience applied.]

If they were going to level up together, why were they separated? Why not the same Skill? Or a merged version? I couldn’t stop wondering what the purpose of them being separate was as I dismissed the notices. It wasn’t a question I was likely to get an answer to –not without a full library.

And that was still months away.

I reached up and dragged one of the pillows off the bench and placed it up my head.

It had been a horrible day, it was time to let time pass by in the quickest way I knew how –to sleep it away.

I awoke slowly to the rhythmic sound of the horses' hooves clopping out of sync. The thump-thump of the wheels hitting stone was lulling me back to sleep. Above, I could hear the sound of a bird chirping atop the carriage roof. It was the in-between state, half-asleep, where the problems of the morning felt so far away.

The ache in my ears was near-gone, and my muscles were tight from sleep. I took a deep breath, letting the cool air fill me. I turned over –but I misjudged how far from the wooden compartments I had been laying, so I found myself knocking my head against the wood. With a sharp inhale, I reared back.

I was awake.

I pressed my hand to the ache on my forehead and grumpily reached up for my bag. Pulling it to me, I reached in and filled my mind with purpose.

[Weave of Darkness]

A ball of thick yarn filled the bag, its deep green near-black blending in seamlessly to the shadows.

In as low a whisper as I could, I spoke, “[Shadow Conjuration+Shadow Manipulation].”

I pulsed my Will, an easy design filling my mind.

A single stick, no thicker than my pinky, with a tiny hook at the end.

A crochet hook.

I pushed all thought away. There were no monsters here. No Gods. No sisters or brothers or fathers. No mothers. Here, there were no need for knights with swords that could slice through stone –just a single hook and a ball of yarn.

And so I went to work, casting on a new stitch, [Weaving] and experience guiding my hands.

I let an idea fill my mind. The deep green fueled a single thought –so I began at the end and started with a tail. I hooked and looped and slipped, and anytime a disconcerting thought began to fill my head, I kicked it straight out and doubled down. With 56 Dexterity, my fingers were nimble –and with 105 Perception, I could spot exactly where my needle needed to go next. As time passed, I had a body and a head but no legs or eyes. The suns were setting on the horizon as I fastened off the green thread. I used another ball of yarn to stuff the creation. Then I pulsed my Will as I pulled on the final stitch for the body –re-shaping the hook just slightly to sharpen an edge. I slid the new edge across the yarn and cut off the excess before using the same green to create four small legs. They took less time to stitch together and to join them it only took a single stitch for each leg. I used the iridescent and green together to create eyes and eyelids and joined them as well.

As I leaned back into the wooden siding, I stared at my latest stuffy. I beheld the lizard in its mediocre glory, satisfaction filling me. I was only Level 4 in [Weaving], not even to the level of competence wherein options appeared. This was a minor miracle.

And then there was a knock on the window. I peered up, but I couldn’t see with my back to the door, so I repositioned myself and climbed up onto the bench. Leaving Shade, the now-named lizard, discreetly tucked into a corner on the floor.

I met the eyes of a shocked squire –Arlen did not seem to have expected me to have come up from the floor, my hair and clothes in disarray. I slid open the window.

“Yes?” My voice was hoarse, not from crying but from not being used after a deep sleep.

“We’re breaking for the night, my Lady.”

I nodded, rubbing my eyes. The focus required to create the little lizard had left me tired once again. As I looked out, I realized we’d already stopped. I hadn’t even noticed –the sounds of the forest had become ambient noise to fuel my focus. The world had become plunged into darkness –save for the magelights surrounding several wooden posts. A quick glance across the compartment showed that the posts were set up in a circle around the carriage.

Several piles of cloth were lying between the posts, and [Quick Calculation] told me there were twelve piles and four empty spaces. I watched as Dame Arella took one of the piles of cloth and lifted up two corners. In a fluid motion, she snapped the fabric up, and it froze mid-air –straightening itself out before a sharp crease formed. As Dame Arella lowered the fabric, it became clear that it was a tent. A self-pitching tent.

Nothing a micron couldn’t do, though, I thought to myself before looking back to Arlen.

“Are we having dinner?”

“Yep, Dame Shior is prepping it now.” Arlen glanced back before leaning in and conspiratorily whispering, “She’s a way better cook than Undein, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

I blinked, then I glanced back to where a woman with orange hair was building a fire next to several pots and pans before looking back to Arlen and nodding sharply and whispering, “When’s Undein’s next shift?”

Arlen broke out in a grin. His expressions were so loud, so easy to read – it was bringing me comfort.

“Not for another couple of days –once we leave Juvel.”

As I felt a small smile bloom on my own face, I caught sight of a frowning Sir Limrick hovering a dozen feet away –his eyes focused on me and Arlen. As if a switch was flipped, my stomach dropped, and a ball of anxiety filled me. I wasn’t supposed to be chatting with Arlen, then. Maybe not any of them.

But it was so easy –for once. I sighed mentally.

“Arlen –Klein –come help set up!” Sir Limrick barked, and the boy was gone.