Otherworldly - A Shadowed Awakening

Peak of Autumn, Week 5, Day 3

I had the curtains closed once again, but I left the magelight on, shining down and causing sharp shadows to form. I swallowed the anger I felt at being forced to visit the church. A part of me, something small and quiet, wondered which Gods would be shown. Would it be Agar and Zanth –or Xanth? Horus or Mace? Would Scylla even have a foothold in Juvel? Would the twins? I didn’t know, and I ignored Eunora’s voice when she spoke –telling me of Frill and Morloch and Xanth, of Greta and Ital and Yllium. I didn’t want to know things I never learned, I had thought I was done with such things after the first time. But here it was all again. I. Didn’t. Want. It.

Instead of focusing on such things, I punted the small voice –the voice that was both me and not me but also not the future Eunora, back behind a wall of my own creation. A box sealed so tight it could hold my anxiety and fear and even some of my anger.

Then, I let myself feel the power rushing in my veins.

In elsewhere, mana was small –fragile and weak. It was a hobby, a parlor trick, minor self-defense. Because we had other ways to protect ourselves from the horrors that roamed my world, with our indestructible Domes and our Glass Cannons. But magic – magic was beautiful. In elsewhere you could see it, call to it, you could form anything you wanted with a thought. I focused on darkness because, in all the ways that mattered, I was seen as light. Always pushing for perfection, always glowing with the glory of competition, holding myself high. And darkness was my release. Magic in elsewhere was art brought to life. Here, magic is so confined – restricted to Skills and Classes and Stats. I knew, in a way I had not learned, that my affinity carrying over changed things for me. It meant I could circumvent the rules.

Because in Gargantua, mana manipulation is a Skill one must learn and meditate on and progress. In Gargantua, elements are forged with contracts and blood and deals with spirits. Affinities are not granted freely, not like mine. But my Skills were a piece of home. [Shadow Manipulation] and [Shadow Conjuration] were my heart and soul brought here. Before, I had called them a trap. A way to make me find a reason to love this world that the Gods had forced me to. Because magic here had power.

That didn’t matter, not anymore. Not when I had a dead girl’s instincts and a strange woman’s voice haunting me. Weeks ago, I would have screamed and raged and let myself be overcome. But there is only so much I can withhold from myself before being forced to admit that it is a pain of my own creation. I do not have to be so miserable. No.

And I won’t be. This choice –it will give me power.

[Shadow Manipulation]

I felt the ice in my veins as the shadows began dancing in place, remaining flat and attached to their masters. I lifted my hands and felt the ease with which my Divinity allowed me to finesse the darkness. Some pieces became butterflies, some became flowers, and others were created by the shadow of my own hands, making bunnies and dogs and dinosaurs.

[Shadow Conjuration]

And then the shadows unpeeled themselves from the wooden walls.

As butterflies fluttered, they shifted from navy blue to deep purple and then back again. They circled lindwyrm green flowers that were forming themselves into a bouquet. Hickory brown bunnies became fleshed out and meaty and chased lightly by slate grey dogs that had formed bodies. All of these creations were smaller than my hand, but they filled the compartment with life. I directed them like a symphony.

Inside, I knew I was pushing my limits –using every bit of focus I possessed. And I knew it wasn’t true life. I was already running out of mana –barely an hour, and I could feel the backlash shocking my veins.

Before, when I had crafted those knives, I had made them works of art. Intense beauty –maintained in perpetuity. With my focus, their existence had never wavered. They were something I molded by hand, creating them with my full attention. Now, the bunnies were barely more than rough outlines rounded out, dog heads just a mimicry of my hands with roughly shaped bodies. Even the butterflies were pinched things.

That meant I had to get better, practice more, and increase my finesse until I had the blueprints for beauty memorized and ready to conjure at a moment's notice.

And now, all I had was time. Time to watch the beauty swirling around me.

[Quick Calculation] told me I had enough to maintain the scene for another ten minutes, but I cut it off at five minutes. So that I could –

[Weave of Darkness]

–summon a massive ball of chunky black yarn. It was the kind I didn’t need a needle to weave, so I used my fingers to craft a blanket that would swallow me whole. It was perfect –by the time the skein ran out of yarn, I had enough mana to create another.

The ride slipped away as I hand-wove the blanket, a bastardized version of crocheting with my fingers. [Weaving] guided me gently, telling me when my loops needed to be evened out or undone. It helped me to correct issues of inexperience and grow, it pushed me in a way it hadn’t always. I hadn’t truly been paying attention when crafting Shade —too busy falling out of myself and into the act of crocheting. But now, as I focused on my hands and the yarn, I was consumed by the Skill. My Dexterity was allowing me to control my hands like never before, not in elsewhere anyway —I had never been good with my hands. I had often opted for physical hobbies rather than crafting. So when patterns filled my mind, of Eunora’s memories and [Weaving], I paid closer attention.

Eunora of [Eternal Communion] stayed silent, and Eunora of before felt soothed. It was quiet in my head. The tension I’d been holding in my shoulders relaxed as I fell into the rhythm of pulling and pushing one loop after another.

The blanket was going to take up so much space. I swore. How was I going to hide it?

Why do I have to hide it? — It is made of shadow, Nora. Of course, you should hide it. — But the Count couldn’t tell. He simply thought I had [Young Lady of Weaving] or something.

While I debated with myself, I ultimately decided it didn’t matter. Not this. Not if I was going to try and be… more. No. If I wanted to be more, I shouldn’t be doing this with my hands at all.

Finesse. Will. Yarn made of shadows.

“[Quick Calculation]”

I had plenty enough mana to use [Shadow Manipulation] to weave for me.

[Shadow Manipulation]

It took some minor focus, but the process of pulling and straightening the stitches worked. At first, the action was clumsy —likely due to my poor visualization. But as my mental image grew stronger, the speed at which I could stitch the blanket grew faster. But [Weaving] was only giving me whispers now. Rather than guiding me physically, it was telling me to control the force of Will I infused and making sure I wasn’t pulling it too tight with my mind.

I got lost in the motions, watching my creation become more. It wasn’t until Arlen, with his easy smile and not-so-formal words, called me for lunch that I paused. I hadn’t even changed for the day. So, I pulled a new outfit out of a new bag and dressed for a new day. After a quick bite, where I gave the knights a reprieve from my presence, I huddled back in the carriage and continued. The actions soothed me, allowing me to forget the world. That, soon, I would be back in a church. And who knew what was waiting for me there? Another priest of Abelia, waiting to tear me apart for my lies? Scylla, making me perform like a puppet? Or a new God, ready to make a mockery of me –of my attempts at living this life?

Without regard for the monstrous size of the blanket, I continued. I could have made several smaller blankets. I could have. But that would have taken more wherewithal – more conscious thought and less automatic movement. So I just kept looping the same black yarn over and over. When I ran out of one skein, I summoned another and kept going. I was drowning in blanket when I finished the final row and decided enough was enough.

We would likely be getting to Juvel soon, and I was certain my hair was a mess. Removing my braids gingerly, I began taming my curls. I should have searched for a mirror, but that seemed like a bit much, so instead, I gently ran my fingers through my hair in an attempt to pull myself together. As I waited, I pulled out Maeve, A Field Guide, and continued skimming until I found something to hold my interest.

The Nemoan Travesties.

Roughly every 100 years, something catastrophic occurs that shakes the core of Maeve –but they never actually happen to the Duke of Nemo. Sometimes, they occur across the country and ruin swaths of villages in the South. Sometimes, they hit the Moors of Hernel and flood their farmland. Once, a Nemoan Travesty was redirected from the Duchy of Nemo, hit the Tower of Privy, and bounced all the way to outside Adeline –wherein the Dawn Estate was struck and caught aflame, destroying a hundred years of records. Later, some records were found relating to the Dawn's progression from Count to Duke, but not enough for anything other than: after a valiant performance in the war effort, the Duke of Poplar and the Duke of Umbra support the advancement of Count Dawn; the Duke of Nemo opposes the advancement; the advancement proceeds. It was quite a mystery –the specifics of the Duke of Nemo’s [Class]. It wasn’t mentioned by name, and now I wished to know. The Gods hate him, obviously, yet he lives and rebels with the support of the crown.

Perhaps, one day, I could do the same.

A knock came from the window. I snapped the book closed and leaned to open the curtains.

“Are we approaching Juvel?”

Arlen huffed from his slow-moving horse but gave a small smile, “Yes, my Lady. We’re approaching the walls.”

“Same as before, then?”

“No, actually,” He shook his head. “We have a pass from Adeline, so we’re good to go straight through the gates.”

I let out a relieved breath, and Arlen guided his horse away from the window. I waved lightly, then began opening up the rest of the curtains. The bright light filled the compartment, and I worked on folding the obnoxiously sized blanket and stuffing it into one of the under-bench cabinets. I squished and pushed and pressed and finally, finally closed the cabinet door.

As I laid back on the bench, I watched the world slowly pass by. We were already out of the woods and in the clearing surrounding Juvel’s walls. The grass off the road was tall, but I could still see the scouts from the Dusk circling the carriage. Granted, all I could see was the upper body of their horses and above. Usually, they were hidden in the forest, so it was still an odd experience to be able to see Dame Siobhan’s fiery hair and her bow.

I was lost in thought as we crossed the threshold of Juvel, but I tuned back in as the guards saluted the Dusk Knights –their eyes hard and their fists clenched.