The Tears of Kas̆dael

Jasper turned back reluctantly as a feeling of dread set heavy in his stomach.

“Yes, Lady Aphora?”

The noble leaned back in her chair, an indolent expression on her face, but the fire in her eyes revealed the truth. As she silently scrutinized him, he stood frozen in place, petrified like a rabbit before a viper. His heartbeat throbbed heavily in his ears, and his vision swam.

“You are quite the mystery, aren’t you?" Her words broke the silence of the chamber, and Jasper gasped as the relentless pressure finally lifted off of him.

She stood up again, and slowly circled around him. "Your blood is of the Djinn and I see the Seraph tribe has claimed you, but their mark does not truly resonate in your soul. You are one of them, and yet, you're not."

She paused, before continuing her slow walk. "Your goddess is the one we call Is̆s̆ati S̆ahor, yes? The Dark Lady? But yet I also see the hand of another upon you as well. Why should two gods take an interest in you?”

She circled him again, like a shark stalking an injured seal. “Even more curious is the scent of the Myrawni that lingers upon you. As far I know, they're long dead, aside from a few forgotten remnants that sealed themselves away into other realms long ago.”

She stopped in front of him, transfixing him with her gaze. “Yes, you’re an intriguing puzzle. None of these groups are known for working together, and there's really nothing that remarkable about you. Clearly, they must see something I don't. Some small part of me wishes to believe that you’re an ascended master, pretending to be weak as part of some grand plot, the purpose of which eludes me."

She broke down in merry peals of laughter that filled the hall. At last, composing herself, she gently lifted his chin up with one hand, forcing him to meet her eyes. Her gaze was surprisingly warm, and the tension eased out of his body, as she continued. "But despite my wild fancies, we both know that's not the case."

She released his face, and slowly returned to her throne. "No, you are nothing but a mewling cub, a child caught up in affairs far beyond your ken."

As Aphora settled back in her chair, a smug smile crept over her face. "Still, I have long since learned the value of fostering potential. Even the weakest whelp someday grows to be a lion.”

A bell suddenly appeared in her hand. She rang it once, its clarion call echoing through the room. The left wall slid open and a lady dressed in a long black cloak entered the room, prostrating herself before the lady. “Yes, your holiness?”

Aphora pointed at Jasper. “The child here has been taken into our service. Though he is a mage, he has no diadem. It would hardly be proper for one of our servants to be so unfittingly dressed. Please outfit him with one of ours."

The woman's eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to object. "My lady-"

Aphora shushed her with a single word. "Arras̆ūs̆u.”

The woman bowed her head. “As you will, my lady.” She turned to Jasper. “Come.”

Jasper walked through the hole in the wall. The instant his foot crossed the threshold, the wall slid shut behind him without even a whisper of sound. He found himself on an open-air walkway, suspended far above the ground. Peering over the edge, Jasper could see a vast lake sprawling beneath the edifice. A heavy curtain of fog rested on its glassy surface, obscuring most of it from view. He shook his head in disbelief. Where the hell are we? There was definitely no lake in the city.

The elf gave him no time to marvel, striding down the walkway at a pace just shy of running. He scrambled after her, following the gentle curve of the walkway until it eventually dead-ended in a pale tower. Again the walls opened before them, revealing a room that appeared to be an armory. Weapons lined the walls: row upon row of gleaming sickle swords and shining bows and suits of armor hung on mannequins spread out before him in a dazzling display.

The woman ignored the armaments and led Jasper over to a large silver case in which, beneath a sheet of crystal, dozens of diadems were arrayed. She opened the display case up, and turned to him, inclining her head slightly to the left in the elven gesture of respect. “Do you know how to select a diadem?”

Jasper shook his head. Truth be told, he wasn't too excited about Lady Aphora's gift. Back when he had played the game, he had always thought diadems looked a little girly, generally preferring the dressed-in-black stealth archer look. But, he had a feeling this was a gift he couldn't really refuse.

“You need to touch them - just a finger or two will do - until you find one that responds to you. Sometimes more than one will respond to you, in which case you must choose.” She pulled out a small folder, filled with loose pages. “Once you select one, we can look up their history here.”

Jasper arched an eyebrow, his curiosity picked. “You keep a written history of the diadems? I didn’t know they were that old.”

She responded with a touch of indignation in her voice. “Of course, we keep records of their lives to honor them during the mourning of Selene, along with the rest of the honored dead.”

Jasper blinked in confusion. Their lives? “I’m sorry, are these diadems alive?”

Consternation creased her brow, and almost imperceptible anger flickered in her eyes, vanishing so quickly that Jasper doubted he saw it. “Do you not even understand the great honor my lady is bestowing on you? Each of these diadems is one of our honored ancestors. Each of them chose to forego the afterlife, crystallizing their power into these artifacts to aid the generations that were to follow. Fragments of sentience still remain in them, and the diadems will only accept those they find worthy of their guidance. They are sacred relics of my people, not meant for those not of our heritage.”

The words hung between them in an awkward silence, the harsh tone of her speech revealing her true feelings on the matter quite clearly. Realizing she had overstepped the bounds of propriety, the woman bowed her head, muttering beneath her breath, “May my lady forgive me.”

Eager to defuse the tension, Jasper drew on his memories of elven etiquette, covering his eyes with his right hand in a gesture of apology. “I meant no disrespect; I was unaware of the true nature of the diadems.”

Her expression mollified a bit at his gesture, and she waved her hands back to the diadems. “Never mind. As I was saying, please touch the diadems until one responds to you.”

Jasper reached into the case, letting his fingers brush against the silver and gold diadems. He moved slowly, unsure exactly what to expect - and a bit afraid to ask, lest he offend the elven woman again. Diadem after diadem passed, and soon he was drawing near to the end of the case without even the faintest hint of a reaction.

He was starting to feel embarrassed when his hand brushed one of the last ones in the row. In an instant, his mind reeled as a cavalcade of images flooded through him, until they finally merged into a single image. A forest of towering trees rose around him, the majestic trees unlike any he had seen on earth. A stream wound its way beneath the boughs of the mighty trees, its waters rushing and slamming against a giant rock that stood against the raging current, as the rising waters threatened to overflow the bank. It's like my mantra, he realized.

No sooner had the realization hit him, than the image flickered. The forest was suddenly wreathed in flames. The trees transformed into smoldering pillars of ash, while clouds of steam rose from the roiling surface of the river. Even the boulder began to glow from the oppressive heat. The hellish landscape only lasted for a few seconds before it faded away, as the pleasant pastoral scene from his mantra remerged.

Suppressing a shudder, Jasper picked the diadem up, rolling it between his fingers. The band was larger than the rest but far more simple.No gems were set in it, and no intricate carvings or runes adorned it. But the diadem, while simple, was exquisitely made, crafted from hundreds of silver strands woven into a plaited rope.

He forced himself to smile as he held it out to the elf. “Looks like one chose me after all.”

The woman took the diadem from him and cross-referenced it in her records. She frowned as she read its entry. “Hmm. We actually don’t have much information about this particular piece. It was left to us by a wandering elf who sought asylum within Onkodos Laos several centuries ago. According to our notes, he was a pyromancer. There are no known elven tribes that inherit fire magic, so either he belonged to a lost lineage or he was of impure blood. On his death, he bequeathed us the diadem, saying only that it was his master’s before him.” She closed the file, looking up at Jasper. “The diadem has chosen several other elves, but none have ever chosen it, as we cannot use fire magic."

She put the file away, muttering beneath her breath. "Perhaps our lady foresaw this possibility.”

Jasper weighed the diadem in his hands, the heft of the object far lighter than he would have guessed, before placing it on his head. As it settled on his head, an electric ripple raced down his spine, but nothing else happened. He reached out for his magic and could feel the change immediately. There was simply more there, and the essence felt heavier and fuller than before, the magic of a much older and more experienced mage. He inclined his head to the woman. “Lady Aphora has my thanks.”

The elf led him out of the armory, walking through the wall into another corridor, which was, once again, down at the lake level. She stopped midway, and with a wave of her arm, the window transformed into an opening out onto the lake. She stepped out onto the waters, and with each step she took, a thin platform of ice formed beneath her foot.

Jasper tapped the thin ice with his foot and, seeing that it held, tentatively stepped out onto it. The woman swiftly strode across the lake, paying no attention to him, and he found himself slipping and sliding after her as quickly as he could, a few times barely avoiding plunging into the water. After perhaps a hundred feet, she reached another crossway, opening it with a swift wave. As soon as she stepped off the lake, the icy trail behind her quickly begin to melt back into the waves, and Jasper hurtled across the sinking path, reaching the hallway shortly before the last platform sunk beneath the surface.

He ground his teeth at the smug look on her face, but held his tongue. He was beginning to see why the elves of Onkodos Laos were not well-loved in Gis̆-Izum. She swept down the hall into another room, where he saw Ihra sitting at a table, filling out paperwork. A sunny smile creased her face as he entered the room. “Hey, Jasper. I’ve filled out everything for our group except your skills and stats. You’ll need to fill these out.”

Despite his annoyance with the elf, Jasper flashed an easy grin at her, and sat down, quickly scribbling out the information. The man who had let them into the complex perused the paperwork with a disinterested air, before tossing them on his desk.

“Very well. Everything seems to be in order.”

The elf searched through his drawers for a moment before pulling out a file, which he handed to them. “Here's the mission brief for the quest. Please read it carefully. We’ll be departing in a week.”

He waved his hand at the wall, and it opened, revealing the city beyond. “May the Lady watch over you.”

The pair rode back to the guild in companionable silence for some time. Truthfully, Jasper was already doubting their decision to take the quest. While Lady Aphora had seemed nice enough - if absolutely terrifying - the rest of her employees had kind of come across like dicks. Despite that, offending someone as powerful as the elf noble seemed like a very poor decision. Jasper had no desire to find himself cast out of another city.

“So what’s with the diadem on your head?”

“Hmm?” Jasper was startled out of his reveries.

“What’s with the diadem on your head?” Ihra repeated.

“Oh, Lady Aphora insisted on equipping me with one. I don’t know exactly what it does, but it feels like it expanded my essence and made it, I don’t know, more powerful, maybe? It supposedly belonged to some elf who could do fire magic.”

Her eyes widened with surprise. “You mean it’s a real elven diadem? Not one of the lesser ones, like Qara had? I didn’t think non-elves were ever allowed to wear them.”

Jasper huffed. “Yeah, I got that impression too. The lady who helped me pick this one out was clearly very unhappy to do so. But Lady Aphora, whoever she really is, invoked the sacred tongue, so I got it.”

Ihra’s gaze sharpened. “The sacred tongue? I’m surprised you’re familiar with that. The elves of Onkodos Laos mostly keep to themselves. I was shocked to see an enclave of them here.”

He shrugged. “Well, like I told you, my world had - how should I put this - stories about your world. Vivid stories, kind of like illusion magic. Through these stories, I'm familiar with a lot of the north, especially the area around Celestia, but I also learned a little about Onkodos Laos.”

His thoughts ran back to his memories of the city in the game. Truthfully, Jasper had found the holy city to be a bleak and forbidding place. The elven realm was carved into a mountain of obsidian, hidden deep in the frozen tundra of the north. The northern wastes were dangerous and hostile, the land steeped in an ancient magic that predated even the elves. He frowned as he remembered the city, which had bustled with life even during the Desolyton. Magic was clearly on the decline in Corsythia, and he wondered how the city looked now. Was the power of the elves also in decline, or were they faring better than the empire?

He shifted his weight on the horse, gently patting Dapplegrim’s neck, while he gathered his thoughts. “I was surprised to see elves from Onkodos Laos. I know they helped the empire a little during the Desolyton, but other than that, I was under the impression they rarely left the north.”

He turned to Ihra. “You've never really talked about yourself much. Is your heritage from Yammaqom?”

She shook her head. “No. As far as I know, my family doesn’t trace back to any of the great elven realms. The blood runs true in my family, but as far as we know, we might not have had any direct elven ancestors since the War of the Dragons."

She laughed, shrugging her shoulders lazily. "Or perhaps we do. Many records were lost in the aftermath of the Desolyton and Fey wars, so who really knows. But, there’s not too many elves wandering around the central lands, especially not these days, so it's unlikely we have a recent ancestor.”

“Maybe there are more than you know,” Jasper pointed out. “After all, who would’ve guessed there was an enclave of one of the most reclusive tribes here of all places?”

Their conversation was cut short as they arrived back at the guild, and rode into the sanctum. The pair checked in with the guild attendant, notifying the organization that they had been accepted for the job posted by Lady Aphora. Once the paperwork had been filled out, they headed to the market for supper. Loading up on treats, they took them back to the children at the orphanage.

The next few days passed in a blur. They purchased a few supplies for the expedition, but according to the briefing they’d received, all the essentials would be provided for them, so they had ample time on their hands.

He soon fell into a comfortable routine. During the day, Jasper trained in the guild hall, working hard to make up for his lacking combat training, and at night he took long rides through the peaceful countryside, before heading back to share supper with Ihra or the children. When the night before the expedition finally arrived, Jasper was almost sad to have to leave the cozy domesticity he’d been enjoying.

Nervous about the coming expedition, he perused the contents of the folder for the hundredth time. The details were somewhat sparser than he would have preferred, but were revealing nonetheless. They were going to travel with the guild expedition to Als̆arratu and would split off to chase their own objective, the Tower of Ysagila, once they arrived.

The tower had apparently belonged to some ancient elven mage, and their purpose, supposedly, was to retrieve important “cultural artifacts,” whatever that meant. After the fiasco at Yar-Khennor, Jasper nursed a healthy skepticism of the mission brief, suspecting that the document was less than forthcoming about the real purpose of their quest. However, he knew that the elves of Onkodos Laos were deeply devoted to preserving the secrecy of their rites and people, so he couldn't entirely dismiss the possibility that they really were just looking to retrieve cultural artifacts. His hand subconsciously rubbed the diadem on his head, feeling a faint wave of warmth spreading through his hand. Maybe they’re trying to retrieve an artifact like a diadem. They’d probably think that's worth risking life and limb.

The main danger of the expedition was that the city was haunted by creatures that couldn't be permanently killed, only temporarily banished. He was surprised to learn that the ruined city was intimately connected with the faction from Onkodos Laos, which explained the presence of their faction in Gis̆-Izum. While Yammaqom had been the primary elf faction to support Shamshadīn in the Desolyton, Onkodos Laos had contributed a substantial amount of money and small amounts of troops to the conflict. Apparently, one of those battalions had been sent here after the Harei Miqlat had been convinced to leave their mountains and aid Shamshadīn.

After the Desolyton had ended, the elven commander refused to return home to Onkodos Laos. Instead, she retreated deep into the frozen mountains and established a city there: Als̆arratu, the city of the queen. Allegedly, she and her elves began to deviate from the rituals of Onkodos Laos, practicing some sort of “heresy.” The mission brief hinted that the Queen was practicing dark magic, but it was listed as "unconfirmed - rumor only." Sometime later, the city of Onkodos Laos sent another contingent of elves to persuade their errant faction to return home. No details were provided on their mission, but since the second group ended up establishing their residence in Gis̆-Izum, it was clearly unsuccessful.

The elven community in Als̆arratu thrived for many years until the city was destroyed by the Fey forces during the second Fey war. After its destruction, the extent of the sect’s heretical practices became clear, as their dead lingered, unable to find rest in Selene’s embrace. Instead, hordes of wraiths and wights haunted the abandoned streets of Als̆arratu each night, trapped in an eternal vigil.

Jasper put the folder down with an exasperated sigh. After his encounter with the Whispers, he had really been hoping to steer clear of dead things. So much for that. As he drifted off to sleep, a final thought haunted him.

These damned ghosts better not have tentacles.