The Tears of Kas̆dael

As she said that, she stepped to the side, revealing an ancient stone altar behind her. He stumbled back, shaking his head, not daring to utter a reply. She’s going to kill me.

Aphora frowned. “I’m not going to hurt you, but I need you to help me. We can make everything better; you just have to trust me.”

Jasper shook his head, screaming into the wind. “Didn’t your god say your mission was folly? What do you even need me for?”

Aphora's eyes sparked with anger, and she seemed to grow in size. “His words were a test of faith, nothing more. You know not of what you speak.” With a flick of her wrist, she summoned a thin silver whip. It hung loosely at her side as she took a slow step forward.

“I need you to help me - this is the mission. I just need a bit of your blood."

Jasper stepped back again, almost falling as his foot twisted on a snow drift. "I'm, uh, going to have to take a raincheck on that." His mind whirred as he tried to think of a way out, and then, giving in to base instincts, he turned to run.

"You are going to help whether you want to or not. I will save them.” Aphora growled in frustration, and a moment later he felt her whip curl around his body. The enchanted weapon wrapped around him instantly, binding his hands tightly against his body before he could even try to get off a spell. Not that I'd even be able to injure her. His head snapped back painfully as, with a sudden jolt of movement, he was dragged back to the altar

“Why are you doing this?” Jasper was not proud of the quaver that crept into his voice as he futilely struggled against the bonds.

She did not respond at first, as she busied herself with preparations. The altar was a simple stone slab, set on top of three stone boulders. The almost primeval structure would've looked more at home in the middle of Stonehenge than in the almost baroque Corsythian architecture. The only ornamentation it possessed were three large basins that were carved into its top. Thin channels connected the basins to each other, pouring into the deeper central basin.

Aphora pulled a seemingly endless cavalcade of potions and ingredients out of her bag. Most of them were poured into the central bowl, but a few were used to etch the rims of the basins with line upon line of runes. He continued to try to break free, desperately reaching for the transformation that had saved him from the cultists. At one point, he felt it in his grasp, and hope surged within him. But Aphora, noticing the rising essence, simply flicked him in the forehead with her finger, and his control crumbled. Finally deprived of all hope, he watched in mute horror as she finished her preparations.

He was surprised when she broke the silence.

“I grew up here, in Als̆arratu, back when the city was a flourishing center of trade and culture."

She turned to face him, her eyes burning with a passion bordering on insanity. "I used to play in the palace gardens by myself, waiting for my mother to come home from one of her many trips. 'A queen's work is never done,' she'd say. When the Fey armies turned up at our door, my mother could have fled and saved herself. But she chose to stay, to fulfill her duty to her people. Desperate for answers, she turned to the Tower for salvation, and salvation was granted."

"Or so we thought.”

“The ritual went off without a hitch, and Als̆arratu was drawn into a void, a small dimensional space much like the Sanctum, albeit without the sunshine and flowers. True, it was a land of endless darkness, but we were safe, hidden away from the Fey. The people laughed and danced in the streets, and the temple rang with the sound of our revelry for many days."

"But something went wrong with the ritual. After all this time, years upon years that I have spent studying the ritual, I still don’t understand what caused the failure. She must have made some tiny error with one of the ingredients. One minute we were safely in our void, and the next we reappeared in the world, right before the astonished eyes of the Fey that still lingered in the valley.”

“I was asleep when it happened, too young to be allowed to participate in the feasted. I woke up in the morning to find everyone in the palace, everyone I ever knew or cared about, transformed into a monster. I wandered the streets looking for my mother until a few survivors found me. They carried me off to the safety of Gis̆-Izum, where we established the enclave.”

“So the elves in Gis̆-Izum aren’t from Onkodos Laos?” Despite himself, Jasper couldn’t help his curiosity.

She snorted. “If Onkodos Laos even knows we exist, they certainly don’t care. Why would their hallowed halls concern themselves with a few heretics in the mortal lands? We are the remnants of Als̆arratu, sworn to save it, to bring our people, my mother, back.”

“But why me? The guild said you’d turned down lots of other people; what do you even need me for?”

The elf sighed as she continued tracing runes into the final basin. “Did the guild tell you that the posting has been renewed for hundreds of years? I’ve been waiting centuries to find you. You see, the stories about Als̆arratu aren’t quite accurate. It was a city founded by elves, but it was not a city for elves. My mother was much more progressive than her ancestors. Als̆arratu, like Corsythia, was home to many peoples - Corsyths, dwarves, and even fey were amongst the citizens of our city. But aside from elves, the most important group was your own, the Djinn.”

Aphora finished her preparations and reclaimed her dagger. Walking over to him, she pulled his arm out from his side, the silver whip readjusting to keep him bound.

“I’m sorry; this is going to hurt.” She slid the dagger across his wrist, and the blood boiled out into the basin, spilling over the powder and herbs. She left him standing there, rooted to the ground by the whip, and walked over to the third basin. Holding her hand over it, she slashed her own wrist, letting the blood pour out.

“When my mother did the ritual, she was not alone. There were two there that night - her, and my father. A Djinn.”

Aphora smiled bitterly as Jasper’s eyes widened in surprise. “Yes, that’s right. I’m not actually a pureblood elf myself, but it’s a well-kept secret. I do ask that you not go spreading that rumor around - the only half-breeds most elves welcome with open arms are the Celestians.”

She pulled her hand back from the basin, winding a bandage tightly around her wrist, as she continued. “These days, the Djinn rarely leave their mountains, but my father was one of them, so I was able to establish contact. I pled with them to help me fix the ritual. For years, I did my best to help them, to serve their interests both within and without their sacred mountains. I trained their youth, fought their battles, served as their ambassador. And for all my years of loyal service, they refused to give me even a single vial of blood." Anger burned in her eyes as she slammed her fist into the altar.

"After all I'd done..." She exhaled a large, forceful sigh, visibly struggling for control before she spoke again. "And then you showed up, an unattached seraph.”

Jasper's vision swam as the blood loss set in, and he shook his head, trying to clear it, as two Aphoras danced before him. "If you just needed my blood, why not ask?"

Her face darkened. "I've spent centuries asking, always being refused. I'm done asking. How long should my people suffer, a once proud people forced to live as mindless animals, because of their selfishness?"

Aphora walked over to him, cupping his face in her hands. “I’m sorry for deceiving you, but I have to save my people.” Bending down, she forced her lips onto his in a long kiss. He spluttered, unable to move away. After a long moment, she released him and stood up.

“What the hell? Why did you do that?” He shook his head, trying to get the sickly sweet taste of her off his lips.

She smiled sadly, the light not reaching her eyes, as she bandaged his wrist up, cutting off the flow of blood into the basin. His eyes swam as he struggled not to faint from the insufficient amount of blood pumping through his veins. “My parents were a bonded pair. Love changes the blood, fills it with more essence for the ritual.”

She finished bandaging him up and patted his hand. “I know you don't love me - hell, you probably hate me now. But you do lust after me. Hopefully, lust will be sufficient for the ritual.”

Aphora returned to the altar. She placed a hand near each of the basins and pushed a wave of essence into them. Jasper fought to remain conscious as the blood in the two basins slowly rose, and poured down through the conduits into the middle basin. They mixed together, bright swirls of glowing essence floating in the mixture. She pushed again, sending an even greater burst of essence into the altar, and the blood began to boil, before bursting into a golden flame, tinged with the faintest hints of blue.

The fire ascended into the heavens, turning into a towering inferno, and Jasper watched in disbelief as it spread across the face of the far too large moon that loomed above them. The parapet shook violently, large chunks of stone breaking free, falling into the void below, as the moon turned a deep scarlet, an ocean of blood hung in the sky.

Aphora held the dagger high above her head, and with a scream, she plunged it deep within the heart of the flames.

S̆ULLUMŪ DAMA ANA DAMIYA.

The heavens were ripped asunder as the moon exploded in a shower of blood and flames. A burning chunk of moon flew at him and the world went black.

When Jasper regained consciousness, he found himself sprawled on the floor of the tower. Ihra lay beside him, not moving, but she awoke when he shook her.

"Where am I? What - what happened?" Ihra glanced around wildly, confusion and terror on her face.

Jasper didn't bother to respond. Grabbing her hand, he dragged her along behind him. No words were needed between them as they fled back down the snowy mountain peaks towards the tower lift. The earth shook with every step as stars from heaven slammed into surrounding mountains.

Jasper half-ran, half-stumbled down the path, struggling to breach through the deep snow drifts, as the lost blood and chilling cold started to take its toll. But he finally reached the first tower and collapsed on the mural, too tired to move. With a clumsy hand, he fed a thin stream of essence into the moonstone, starting their descent.

The tower continued to shake as they drifted down the long empty shaft. He drank a potion as they descended, and sat up as a measure of vigor returned to his limbs.

“So? What the hell happened? I don't remember anything after stepping out of the tower.”

Jasper just shook his head. “I don’t really know. Aphora..." He struggled to find the words to tell Ihra what Aphora had done, but they died unspoken on his lips. "She did a ritual to restore the city.”

When the platform ground to a halt, they hurried across the floor towards their horses. He dragged himself up on Dapplegrim and sliced the rope free. Some part of his mind was screaming that everything was wrong. Didn't we cross the mountains before ascending the tower? Why are our horses here? The entire world seemed out of order.

But panic allowed no time to dwell on such thoughts. His head throbbing, Jasper prodded his horse into a gallop as they headed out the tower entrance, leaving Aphora’s stag behind.

When they exited the tower, Jasper reined his horse in, as he stared in shock. The mountain range had disappeared, replaced by an unending inky void that wrapped around the city. The air was calm, and the oppressive heat that had lingered in the third ring of the city had dissipated. Despite the darkness of the void, the streets of the ruined city were illuminated brightly, lit by an invisible source.

The two stared at the void in horror. The longer he stared at the endless darkness, the more he felt his mind start to break, and he was forced to avert his eyes. It reminded him of Kas̆dael's domain, just warmer and a whole lot creepier.

Ihra broke the silence first. “Are we trapped here? What do we even do?”

He studiously ignored her first question. “The guild expedition should still be here, right? It hasn’t been a week yet.”

“Do you think they survived?”

A howl echoed through their void, its guttural cry met from all parts of the city.

He shrugged. “We did, so why not them?" He paused. "Then again, maybe Aphora’s ritual worked. It at least worked well enough to draw the city back into the void, so maybe the city’s inhabitants have been restored. They could probably help us.”

His words were cut off as a howl keened through the void. Te-ke-li-li. The guttural cry hung in the air, and he held his breath. Then, from all parts of the city, the cry was repeated. Te-ke-li-li.

“Or maybe not,” he muttered.