Upon the next day, Calia was up at the crack of dawn, taking full advantage of the palace household having spent last evening staying up late drinking and making merry to get done what she needed without running into anyone. Making a quick run to the village to pick up the few items she’d commissioned to gear herself up for proper travel through the mountains. A good bag, an exchange of more practical clothes. A proper harness for the new weapon she was still pondering on a good name for.
After washing up in a good bath and getting dressed, she looked more like a midnight assassin than refugee princess out on a mission for allies, but Calia sure didn’t take a look at herself in a mirror to know the difference. Only feeling a lot more comfortable in new gear made of fine quality leather, without all those frilly embellishments were liable to get snagged on this or that.
Or be uncomfortable to sleep in! No one talked about how uncomfortable and itchy lace and beads could be!
The woman had every intention of leaving this place without any sort of tearful goodbyes, or even goodbyes at all! Of course she liked them very much, and she would be glad to return here again. But the thought of saying goodbye felt oh-so-heavy and impossible to do. It’d been hard enough to do so when Rhelic had to leave her. Calia wanted no more of farewells.
…although there was no way she could leave without seeing the fae tree first.
It was luck that after such a celebration, there would be no court held today. A day of rest for all in the palace. So Calia was able to slip into the courtyard, fully ready to leave by means of just walking out. Or sneaking out.
Either way she was leaning against the tree, tilting her head in pondering just how to summon the demon, as well… this would be the first time she was doing it on purpose! Simply settling on speaking his name out loud to the courtyard, half expecting him to poof there in a theatrical plume of smoke and runic sparkles.
He just might not have been in the best mood leaving in desire hunt of someone or them’s that could ease off this burden of both recalled mortality long past, and affairs of a heart that had no use of existing further. Thankfully, the use of having his memories returning to him were the same ones that allowed him to know most of the in’s and out’s of the town beneath the palace’s shadow. Things changed of course but they weren’t so drastically different that he’d not found the location of a tucked away hole in the wall that was suitable for those of the less than complimentary reputation.
Not evil. Just shady. There was a difference.
And when he had made his appearance there in the hail of false face and voice, it would not matter if the fleshy vessel within him was beating in a forlorn pain. Nothing really did get in his way when there was a desire of guttural intoxication.
The difference was it would have been wiser of him to have assumed that Calia would have wanted to leave this glitzy world of jewels, dresses and posh elves sooner than later. It did not lend him time terribly to rise from the bed of the woman who well… he didn’t remember her name. Not that it was important. She didn’t seem like she would have been insulted anyway. Still sawing logs when he helped himself to a few bits of food from the inn’s kitchen. A thought to lift a bag of coin certainly had tickled his thoughts but found some moral compass inside him shaming the idea.
It was going to be quite the internal battle of good and evil, wasn’t it.
He’d only managed to dress in collected garb that yes, he did help himself too, when the chiming of contract bid him to manifest.
Not to be late!
As she spoke the name out amongst the silent courtyard, the room stayed still for a moment. Paused for reality to shudder as the first sign of its emergence. The surrounding space warp as if the laws of existence themselves were being rewritten. Then, from the fractured void, it began to take shape –not as a being stepping through a portal, but as if something coalescing from the magic saturating the air. It’s form shifting, unstable mass of arcane energy, struggling between solid and ethereal. Taking a moment to manifest the magic of the untamed, a being that was not simply demonic or pure arcane, but the middle ground.
Folding presence to finally take on material form. Demon mostly presentable. Glancing around the room that had shifted from seedy inn, to fae tree court. And to princess in her best mourning attire. The sort a reaper would dress in for other’s to mourn the fleeting life of loved ones.
Filling chest with a deep breath and making sure the energy of being summoned was properly closed channel, the demon raked finger through that of tussled navy locks. “I see no farewell mob.” Arc offered as he lightly cleared throat, “Or anything less dramatic.”
Not the drama she was expecting for a summoning, but no less impressive. Leaving her watching with muted interested, as if she were trying to decipher how that very magic worked until he was once again there in physical form. Looking like a man that’d been awoken far too early for his liking, prompting a small smile of amusement from the mountain princess.
“Nope, not a single mob to be seen all morning,” she affirmed, stepping forward to help straighten up that of these new clothes of his. To fix one of the buckles and then brush imaginary dust from his sleeves before giving a squeeze to those arms and letting her hands drop away.
“I’m ready to go. I’ve left a note for Nysia so that we’re not just disappearing,” she explained, glancing then back at the blooming tree. “I’d rather not linger and get trapped into a series of long winded well wishes, begging us to stay longer, or unnecessary advice.”
It was bittersweet really, having spent the time here to be reminded of royal family life. All of the different personalities, opinions, and problems. She’d not felt unwelcomed most of the time, though it was clear that she did not belong here in a place of so much structure and proper etiquette. There were elements of herself that she’d been able to discover, she’d spared not just one ancient tree but two from a terrible demise, and a demon out of what was surely going to be centuries of agony.
What a way to discover one was capable of far more than just rampaging through the lands.
“Unless there is something you wish to do, I would like to make a fast escape.”
Colour him surprised that there really was no crew standing by. With whetstone and pitchfork ready to practice their javelin with them as targets. No torches ablazed from soaked oil and whatever else have you. Not that he was complaining. Actually far from it. It sounded like fun but it really wasn’t.
Not that he had practice with such things.
A little more distracted as she seemed to come closer to fuss at him for the state of attire. Nearly about to swat her hands away but resisted. As the fact they could be friendly and he wasn’t worried that Calia was going to manifest a dagger to use him as a butchered pig for, he accepted her little bit of fussing. Expressing she had been thoughtful to leave a note for the princess so they weren’t just up and vanishing. Liable to throw people into alert seeing as it wouldn’t be good for a royal guest to have just disappear into thin air.
Stretching then without a need to suppress the yawn as she expressed her very valid reasons for not wishing to stay any longer, he was hardly about to start saying otherwise. Merely tilting focus to the grand tree that had been such a constant presence in more ways than one could probably realize. Assess her beauty. Taking her in as this was very much the last time he’d ever see the breathtaking being. The ancient sentinel that had been the ever watchful eye of all within these walls.
A means of gentle respect was no more than a muttering of words in the elvish dialect. At her query of something else to be done, Arc thought.
Extending fingers, “All the materials we could or would need from the study has been safely stored within the aether hollow. Alongside other thin’s. Removed all research that these people could and would fuck up again. Yah got the sword. Made a spectacle a few times. Clothing and stuff also in the aether hollow, hmmm got fucked… naw I think we be good lass.” Each finger retracted back to palm, only to yawn again.
“Breakfast maybe, but that can be handled on the way out. Yah be surprised how little a inn will have in its own kitchen early in the hours.” A hand motioned that she was to take the lead. “And I don’t think yah in the theivin’ sort of mind to abscond with one of the beasts of burden from the palace to expedite the whole makin’ ground thin’.”
Got fucked? Well, there was some information she didn’t need, but it sent her into a laugh anyway. He’d found someone to help him forget himself for a night, and she could hardly fault him for that now, could she? It was likely going to be his last chance for awhile yet.
And hers too now that she thought about it. Perhaps she should’ve snuck out last night as well.
“No, I won’t be needing to steal another’s horse. We’ll come across Mercy again eventually,” she mysteriously answered, without even seeming to realize it was such a strange statement to make. As how could she possibly know. Calia was just confident it was truth as the horse most certainly had to be fae-touched to be as lucky as she was.
Having no issues at all with being the leader of this expedition (it was her own journey after all), Calia was fine to start leading the way out of the courtyard. Only to pause in her steps before they could cross the threshold, as the ancient fae tree decided to whisper something anew in her gentle musical voice.
Oddly enough, this time using the means of that binding connection to be sure it wasn’t just Calia that heard her.
Be warned lost daughter of the fae, as four shall try their hands to claim thee.
One you have met in the dark woods, setting free a sister from abysmal decay.
Three more shall twist and charm thy will, with promises and falsehoods,
choose your path wisely, lost daughter, for it is your heart they will kill.
“…and you wait until now to tell me!”
Leveling a wondering gaze at the both hopeful and cryptic statement that absolutely had no basis. Regardless if she was one with the dirt or not, he was calling complete bullshit that she could know that the mare had successfully gotten out of the caverns and thus far had been safe. Never mind that they might see her again. Sure that Calia was just saying such things because it made her heart feel lighter.
It was not something he was going to argue semantics over either!
They’d only have gotten to the door before the flare of ancient magic pulled. Connecting itself to that of binding. Pulling ears to rise as this was certainly a first for him to have ever heard the very tree that seen them all through time. Tilting attention back to look at the stunning timber as a warning in the most faeish of rhymes spoke.
Three more.
Arc gradually dropped his gaze to rest upon Calia then. Considering her and, “Well, this ought to be interesting. To see just where yah decide yah wanna throw yer hat.” That thing, whatever it was. Dark Fae or Demon, had been an obstacle apparently set for Calia. And there were three more.
It made him wonder privately where they things set into place from Derrick, or something else. More mystery than answers. Sounded pretty much on par for the course.
Ears lifted ever higher, “Footsteps are comin’. We better scurry along if yah still wanna avoid gettin’ wrapped up in goodbyes.” The demon gave her a gentle nudge as he too didn’t want to stop and chat. Shortly making himself flip back into the shiny beetle to be as small as possible while having the deftness to evade what he needed too. For now, not using her as a carriage.
Calia made a soft snarling sound at the tree, it was about the best she could do right now unless she wanted to stay and argue with the ancient being. A bit counter productive if she wanted to leave the palace without getting trapped in a long series of awkward goodbyes. With only a dirty look cast at the now lyrically giggling fae tree, she was quick to follow the buzzing golden scarab.
What sort of warning was that, and how was it even remotely helpful. Three whoms and whats that were to get in her way and attempt to charm her? If they were anything like the dark fae, or demon, or whatever that manner of beast was, then her decisions would be easily made. A failed attempt to urge her into taking Arc’s heart for her own.
Had it known that Arc had a mage’s magic well that was far surpassing the one he had as a demon?
It didn’t really matter. She wasn’t about to take his or someone else’s in such a way, nor was she going to spill unwilling blood over enchanted fae roots. Whatever came next would be swatted away just as easily.
No one stopped her from trying to leave the palace, despite the fact she looked prepared for a fight or a daytime murder. Cheekily waving goodbye to guards like it was just another visit out to the sprawling capitol city. Taking the path towards the east, where Archimedes claimed this Tower would be.
“…I suppose I need to get used to this new life of everyone trying to kill me,” she mused out loud, taking a look up at the sky before simply minding her feet. “Do you think it is three in total or just the three worst? As there’s been plenty more trying to stomp me in the ground than just that weirdo out in the fae wood.”
With a success departure from the grand and not so marvelous palace into the next chapter, he kept alongside for now as he turned into. It made it easier to think when he didn’t have facial expressions giving him away or whatever thoughts had come to rest upon the spongy tissue. Now pondering over the whole question of getting accustomed to the whole list of souls wishing to maim and murder that of the princess.
“Does it really matter?” He asked quizzically, “Three of anythin’ in this regard seems like a problem. And if what the tree said in her own way, yah can only surmise that the three are considerably more wily and good at their craft in comparison to that first one.” Whatever they were, bad news was about the whole of it. They clearly wanted Calia to either fall or become something akin to them.
Whatever it was, he wasn’t sure if it was a step up, down or sideways on power level. “Yah said the one in the woods said somethin’ about being highblood. I would take a stab that it has more to do with that then just pickin’ yer name from a hat and decidin’ yer this week’s lunch menu.” And he was going to loath himself, “Yah might be able to find somethin’ out at the Bladerift tower. They ought to have resources about fae, dark fae… things that are highly taboo. All the fun stuff that is supposed to be under lock and key.”
Calia wanted to repeat the does it really matter right back at him, as she really didn’t think it did. Or at least not as much of a danger as he seemed to be thinking. Perhaps a bit of arrogance was leaking through there, but nothing had taken her out yet and as far as she was concerned, nothing ever will.
She wouldn’t say she wasn’t afraid, though. Calia had seen enough things now to know there was plenty to be afraid of, even if she wasn’t sure this warning was founded. A contradiction for sure.
“If I am a lost daughter of the fae, then it is possible they want to mislead me the same way that grizzly thing had with the jackals. Because I am young and know nothing.” Of course, Calia didn’t know nothing and she wasn’t about to be jerked around the way a pack of young faelings would. She may not know the fae world, but at least she hadn’t been raised with those sorts of lies.
She spun on her heels to walk backwards, just so she could get one last look of the elven palace to cement into memory. Deeply sighing when she righted herself again, to scratch her fingers through her hair. It was one thing to go check in on Starling to be sure she hadn’t created a new kind of monster, it was an entirely different thing to ask those mages for assistance and linger even longer with a bunch of uppity magic users that thought the knew all and could do all.
With a disrespect for life and their own code of conduct on top of it!
“It wouldn’t hurt to ask a few questions,” she did finally agree. There was no sense in being willful just out of spite, or because she had complicated feelings about one mage in particular.
“Possibly.” Arc replied thoughtfully, “Just it seems a bit deeper than that. From a surface, outsider look.” Offering his very limited, very onesided perspective. It wasn’t really helpful because right now there were too many missing puzzle pieces to make a whole picture. There was only guessing at this point. With a wise bit of caution. To take what was said and know that there were others waiting out there for Calia.
She really was accruing herself quite a list of people that wanted to kill and or invite her into their spider webs of lies and deceit.
As the distance felt significant enough for him to have feet and hands again, he could only begrudgingly express that there could be some information in the tower that may be useful. Smoothing hands through hair. Buffing a thumb over horn node in a means of itching, while he felt her apprehension about it. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about it. “Aye. If they know shit all, then skin off yer nose.” Starling had… had been the Master of Research and he’d been dropped back to a novice. There was no telling who the hell else was in there that didn’t know their elbow from their asshole.
By no means was he thrilled at his suggestion but he also could take solace that they wouldn’t be using any more of his arcane research in the future. Not since he took all the good shit with him and well, of course he didn’t leave being an enchanted heart for anyone to find.
“If they offer nothin’, then yah can just flip ’em off.” The demon smirked softly, “Or yah know… scorched earth.”
“Everything sounds deeper in meaning when it’s spoken in riddle and rhyme,” suggested Calia with a flippant smile. “Heed the mage born under an unlucky star, for a lost daughter doth rise void of heart! Bringing mayhem and chaos across every land, until naught but scorched bodies are left to stand.”
A waggle of wigglie fingers help accent the very spookiness and vagueness of such a thing. Stopping only when she reached out to help smooth navy hair back in place around curve of glowy horn. Briefly wondering how he ever manages to keep it neat between the horns and always fussing it with his fingers.
“But you are right, it doesn’t hurt to see what they have there. They made a mess of your work, here is hoping they don’t have other horrors waiting there. Renus isn’t here to stop me from bringing the whole tower down with the lot of them in it.”
That one was absolutely a threat. Calia had kept herself in check before simply because she couldn’t run the risk of harming the roots of the fae tree. Otherwise it was entirely possible that entire arcane dungeon would’ve come crumbling down and been the Master of Research’s very grave.
Maybe hers too, but Calia was a lot more likely to come crawling back out of the earth.
“Save when a fae does it that knows shit and isn’t speakin’ plainly, it kinda means somethin’.” She could adlib her own bleak rhymes all she wanted. Whether or not Calia wanted to acknowledge it, the Fae Tree didn’t have to give a warning at all. She could have sat silent. Merely to hear through her roots whether or not the daughter of lost fae had been righteous or foolish to fall. Blaming Calia’s lack of proper appreciation on both her age, and that she did tend to get a bit full of herself. Pride was a dangerous thing, as he would know. The difference was, he could only give her a bit of a nudging to listen but that was about it. She’d do as she wanted.
Which apparently was now tidying him up again. Snapping teeth lightheartedly at her quite literally because she as easily the only woman that could reach that high and he wasn’t sure why she was so particular about smoothing and refining him. He didn’t have an issue with physicality, otherwise the whole being a stud for hire would be rather difficult to do. Just a little less used to it when it was coming from a cheeky woman that he was guessing was only around the mortal age of nineteen to twenty one-ish. She wasn’t very old.
And out came the growling displeasure at the reminder of how they messed up that of his research. Letting eye move to the sword she carried, “Don’t let them get their greasy fingers on that sword. And if there is any other horrors, I don’t think its guna be yah that brin’s that place down.” Pupils thinned dramatically at the whole threat, “What’s another added crime to Edelguard anyways.” Shrugging it off though he did hope they were smart enough not to have started or were conducting other bits of heinously questionable tasks.
And these people called him a villain!
“I just hope they don’t have their golem forgin’ working now. It wasn’t when I was around last.”
Wouldn’t the man be surprised to know she was closer to twenty three, not that it much mattered when it came to mortal lifespans and the limited experiences of a princess born and raised in a secluded, introverted country. Really no wonder at all that she thought she was the biggest baddest thing to walk the lands.
To be fair, none had proved her wrong either.
“I’ll heed her warning and your advice,” she reassured him. Even if it did com with that maddening smile of hers. She always did listen, after all, when the advice was sound and it made sense. Just because she tended to act without thinking, or react with extreme emotion, it didn’t mean she couldn’t step back and listen when she needed to. Getting past her temper was a problem, but she’d listen.
And what she was hearing now was that maybe she ought to be the responsible one while they visited the mage’s tower. Archimedes was most definitely still in his feelings himself and was liable to be a wildcard himself now that they were no longer near the roots of the tree or at risk of making things even worse for the royal family.
They couldn’t both lose their cool at the same time, that might actually be catastrophic.
…suddenly it felt a lot more important to actually heed the fae tree’s warning. Be wise with her choices.
“They’ll get a nasty surprise if they do try to take it,” she told him then. “I’ve weaved a small enchanted to it. They’ll get a nasty bit of frostbite if it’s not you or I. It’s not for anyone else’s dirty hands.”
“..what is the golem?” she finally was too curious not to ask.
“Is all one can ask for, lass.” That grin would have said otherwise. A pure beam of absolute nonsense with a dash of we’ll see. Something in that very smile suggested to him loudly that Calia had been quite the little hellion to teach anything too. She might listen once but after that, she’d do it her way. However she saw fit. It was probably –and he didn’t mean this as a insult- best she was the last in line for the once upon a time throne. Her parents were probably relieved their first child was not the wildling that the youngest had been. Guessing that at least one of them were severely gray before their untimely demise.
Right now –while that train of thought would have been far better to rest upon- they had to face the fact that where they were going, he was liable to have the composure of a raving lunatic. It was one thing when he was simply unaware of what had been, who he had been too. Now, it was all there. And he was beyond insulted that these people were the ones that had taken his hard work and marred it. Practically akin to a toddler taking off a poopy diaper and using it to paint the walls.
“Good. They best not touch what they have no right too.” Practically able to hear Lyra scoffing at the very idea that any mage of the bladerift tower would touch something that had been gifted to her. While they were both well adjusted to magic, his younger sister had earned the name flametongue for a reason. Honestly, Calia and her likely would have gotten alike a house on fire.
Brows however lifted at her question. And he sighed no sooner. “Golem forgin’. While I was busy doin’ the means of advisor and courtly matters, overseein’ what Carlisle could not and blah blah, the tower was tryin’ to build arcane fueled constructs of both steel and stone. To be sentinels for the capital. Ones that obeyed commands, had no personal agenda but were takin’ influence from those of the natural sorts. Earth golems and the like.” Arc lifted a finger as if already knowing what she might be thinking. “Why they were being constructed wasn’t simply for all I’ve said but they were meant to be magic immune. Meanin’ as I’m sure yah know. They could be created by magic, not destroyed. Add on that if they were made from parts as resistant as steel and stone, it would be a mighty hard thin’ to fight.” The man frowned as arms crossed thickly over brawn, “Vara wasn’t a fan of them, neither was I. Sentinels were an interestin’ idea, but what they wanted to do felt as if it was an affront to Gaia. Take one of her children and replicate it into somethin’ bigger. Better. Stronger. And there was no tellin’ what would happen if these thin’s were made and didn’t listen. Then yah have these titans stormin’ through immune to magic and swords. Needing an massive explosion to break them down. If yer lucky.”
A golem brought to life not by natural magics but by the arcane arts. It might not have been so bad, obeying commands and having no agenda of their own seemed par for the course of creating your own little minions, despite the fact it gave her a shiver of discontent about anyone making a living puppet. What had her darting narrowed eye sights at him and looking pure appalled was entirely from the fact they’d make them magic immune. Hard thing to fight? One cannot just make a being of magic and then make it immune to those very powers! Surely that was how you made monsters!
The absolute hubris of these stupid elven mages!
This was a flaw of hers, she was coming to discover… maybe not a new one, after all she’d started her own story years ago telling a man what he shouldn’t be doing with magic. There was some sort of violent spark of justice in her, that couldn’t stand to see these things. Not only a gross abuse of magic, but to make themselves living beasts purely to be used without any sort of care or respect for what they’d made.
Calia couldn’t allow such a thing to exist any more than she could allow demons to be strung up on hooks, having their flesh carved away as they continued to live and heal and suffer.
“…shit. We’re gonna shatter that whole damn tower down, aren’t we,” she remarked, actually a bit alarmed by this, as Calia really didn’t intend to go marching in on another crusade. Such a golem was so dangerous, though… all it would take was some powerful upstart with a shitty attitude to find a way to control them and wreck havoc. And that is if the things didn’t gain a sentience on their own and decide to break free themselves!
“If they succeeded in makin’ them? Likely.” He was no conscience here, but there was something inherently wrong with the means of creating these potential beings and having them be so potentially powerful that if something went wrong, they couldn’t be destroyed safely. It had been a large point of contention back in the day. He was not yet the mage advisor but his father was.
Atticus was an avid follower of Gaia but he also believed in Solmyr as the being who created magic, was magic and all that mumbo jumbo. The golems were an insult to both. It resulted in many nights were his vara was almost literally headbutting with the mages at the bladerift tower. Trying to get them to understand their own wicked plots before they had a chance to come together. And, it was no accident that when some of those plans had started to developed, that they would suddenly be missing.
Help of a fire or two.
“That’s the problem with having magic sometimes. Yah think yer invincible. Yah develop a sort of armour around yerself, thinkin’ nothin’ can go wrong so long as yer in control. That since it’s a part of yah, it must obey. But that’s pride talking.” Eyes were pulled a thousand yards ahead of them while features had morphed into deep thought. “Eventually it comes back at yah. It’s not a fun thin’ to learn.” He was certainly an example of it. Even outside of agreeing to becoming a demon. “The added problem is, these mages in the tower are gifted, yes. But they also aren’t the best. And boy, that can be quite a instigator. Yah wanna do more. Do better. Be stronger. Be the top of the pile. So yah start thinkin’ of ways to do it. Ideas.”
There came a chuckle then, “It might be one of the few times I’ll praise the fact I was taught by my vara and Omal. Rather than learnin’ in that damnable tower. Probably because they knew I’d do somethin’ in there that would get me kicked out.”
“You would think that learning in such a place would teach them better,” she remarked with sourness in her stomach. “There is a tower of wizards in the farthest north of Caeldalmor, and they aren’t much better. Granted, they make magic and creatures for fuckery instead. Like literal fuckery, and they pretend it’s not what they do. I would’ve been sent there to live had my father known about my magic, so of course I was curious and went there myself when I was grown. …glad that I waited, too, or I might have been traumatized to abstinence for the rest of my life!”
Actually, thinking about it now still made her second guess her own habits. Calia was a wild thing, but she most certainly was not on that level of depravity! Best not to think about that anymore or it was going to bring up memories that’d put her off even the most charming of menfolk. Leaving her falling silent for a few long moments, mulling over these mages and the lack of respect they had for the magic their wielded.
“…I killed someone.” Likely not the best statement to make out of nowhere, but this was Calia and spilling out blunt truths was what she did. At least Archimedes would understand in this context, and not turn around to look at her like she was a monster or a maniac. “When I was small and did not understand my magic. They weren’t a very kind person, but they didn’t deserve to die either. Magic runs in my very blood and even I know that you have to respect it.”
“Yah would think. But when the teachers are just as full of themselves as the students, it lends to be a cynical repletion.” His father had hated it. Tried numerous times to fix and alter and adjust the ways that the tower worked. At first no one listened because well, Atticus had not come from the capitol. The two of them were from the seaside down deep in the south after all. And Atticus had only come to the capitol when that of only child then was showing signs of being magically gifted. To come to the tower and to find out that it was ass backwards. And later when his father had become the mage advisor, old habits die hard. It really was a war of attrition.
“Oh I remember yah sayin’ that before. And I really wish I was more surprised then or now. Sadly, I think it runs a bit deep and curiosity gets the better of yah in the worst ways. Not that I’ve ever been lookin’ at thin’s that come from magic creation and went, I wanna have sex with it.” Nose wrinkled and tongue made a brief appearance in the ick factor. “Even now, still not seein’ it.”
Mages were really quite the strange beings. Not a sense to be found and he was sure that when they went off to make their own tower, they really amped up the nuttiness.
Brows popped at her sudden statement. Taking a moment to determine if this was some grand confession or if it had purpose. Seeing as he didn’t see her as an innocent fawn that had never killed a person before. Thankfully what was great about Calia was when she blurted something out, it usually was followed up with some explanation.
In this case, when she was a small lass. When the means of magic was likely running free in her blood with no understanding and no help. “Unfortunately, that is the crux of magic. Yah may not have meant to do it but no one can expect a child to fathom their own powers without some help. Yah didn’t have it. And it appeared in a way that likely startled if not scarred yah.” Reaching over to pat-pat her head, “The difference is, yah know they didn’t deserve to die regardless if they were a shite person. If yah were walkin’ now and grinnin’ about it, then we might have a different concern.”
Calia leaned out of the way of his patpating hand, giving a soft swat to his hand and an unappreciative frown. She was far too old and too tall for that nonsense, and he was lucky she was far more interested in this conversation than tackling him to the ground and showing him what a mountain noogie was.
“Had things been different, I’d not be here at all. With him not having to steal my heart, but freely given as we fuck off and do whatever evil bullshit he’s up to now.” What a terrifying reality that could’ve been, a world where she did not have this violent sense of justice and empathy.
“If you consider all the fae tree does as a deeper meaning, there are things I find compelling,” she did admit. “I have a theory that your unleashing of demons is part of why Caeldalmor became so distrusting of magic things. Which eventually led to the making of me. And here I am now your prison and your rescuer. …How about that for the makings of destiny and fate, hm?”
It was almost find of hilarious in a way! What a startling example of the long reaching consequences magic could have. Regardless if it was coincidence or fate, here she was in the flesh, a product of so many people’s choices and now having to make her own. Could’ve been nice if the fae tree had been a little more specific than the killing of her own heart! Cause that could mean so many things beyond just the literal!
Bemusement pulled at her gentle swatting, earning a almost purring noise that showed he found her reaction entertaining. Considering how fussy she was over him this morning, it seemed almost like an eye for eye to him. Simply keeping a private little smirk that would slowly turn into a equally private little frown. Less so about how she expressed had thing’s been different, she would have been Derrick’s willing accomplice.
He wasn’t too sure about that.
She likely would have gone off the deep end far sooner and been a threat to her kingdom before the boy. However, that was not mentioned. Personally he’d seen how magic so strong could really debilitate and or drive someone right to the brink. Hers was thus far, very feral. If they were talking shamanism, she’d be part of the Wilds magic. It was raw, untamed that existed beyond mortal comprehension. Following no formula, no incantation as most magic did. Wild magic was a storm of pure potential, an ever-churning sea of energy that surged and bent to forces unseen. It’s very nature was to dance with chaos. A simple fire bolt could erupt into a blazing inferno, or it could transform into a harmless stream of butterflies. It truly was every letter of the word, wild.
Ears themselves were adjusting slightly as she spoke about how if one considered the fae tree having a deeper meaning, she went into a spiel that did in fact cause him to look pleasantly displeased. Only because she was likely very right that it was his desperate tenacity that had unleashed demon’s into her land as well. Such a thing was true rather than false and he couldn’t pretend it wasn’t. Only extending the wave of death that had come from a very, very poor choice.
Arc grunted in his agreement to her. Disliking being reminded that he was in a prison of sorts. He could accept the rescuer part because without her, he’d be still in that place. Used as parts! Or killed, either or.
“It would be applicable.”
“Not a fan of being pulling by the hands of karma and destiny, I see,” she mused out loud with that ever wide smile. At least after a beat it faded away from that almost smirk to something more muted and thoughtful. Giving a soft shrug of her shoulders. Calia herself didn’t really like the idea that her strings were being pulled by something she had no control over. That somehow there was some grand universal path and plan that she was meant to follow.
At the same time, one could not fight a storm. One could not fight someone on the other half of the globe whose consequences were going to reach her. It’d be pure insanity trying to fight everyone and everything, or worse gain so much hubris that she tried to control them all through means of power and magic, just so she could feel like she had the reigns of her own destiny.
Calia could manage herself and push around some pieces, but she wasn’t out here trying to escape destiny.
“Besides, you could have a worse prison warden. Imagine waking up to Nysia everyday.”
Of course he wasn’t interested or thrilled at the idea of some larger being out there in the cosmos having nothing better to do than to decide people’s extended futures. Knowing it all and actively deciding when, where and what sort of terrible fiasco’s of existence were to happen. It only affirmed in some bitter taste that his very existence had been pre-determined to be such a colossal fuck up that it hardly brought his stomach warm butterflies.
Extending a look to rest upon Calia instead while she seemed to be momentarily amused that turned to internal contemplation. Probably a good thing. She could consider the whole preconceived idea that everything she did and didn’t do went by some unspoken law.
“I don’t think yer terrible. If I did, yah know it.” Arc massaged his brow, “I just am not a fan of anyone holdin’ my leash. And I’ve been around Nysia for at least fifty some years prior all this, I did know she was a gremlin. Granted, I would fear what sort of terrible thin’s she’d try to get me to do. Spyin’ on men, seems high on the terrible list.”
“Spying on men, spying on the family, spying on everybody,” Calia agreed with a soft nod. “Liable to dress you up – or rather down, in something skimpy and greased up with oil too. If not that, have you as a literally fluffy lap dog for the petting.”
She hadn’t forgotten that Nysia had said Arc should be something cuter and fuzzier than a golden beetle! That was before she’d been reminded he did in fact still had his elven man form, with a pair of horny embellishments. Of course, now Calia was thinking a little too long on these could-haves that Nysia would’ve been up to and she had to promptly switch gears before too easily picturing the man half naked fanning the elven princess with peacock feathered fans!
“I do not wish to have you leashed,” she told him, speaking truth as there was no reason not to. “Honestly, we have already helped each other so there is no reason why the binding shouldn’t have already severed itself. We’re both far better off than what we were.”
“By the nines,” Fingers pressed to bridge of nose. Massaging it as Calia offered detailed ideas of just what Nysia could have done to him had his shackle and leash been given to the pampered powder puff. Not sure what one was in particular the worse one and that was probably half the problem. They were all equally horrible. Especially because he had known the girl for years and years, from toddler to near teenager. It was just double horrific to think of her being so demented in such a way that it actually made the thin hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
Never mind that apparently Calia was eyeballing him and well, “Don’t get any ideas, lass.” Not sure what she was thinking and certainly wanting no part of it.
A good bit of impish fun was one thing. Whatever the hell was part of anything related to Nysia-ism’s was something else entirely.
“The way yah worded it, the contract is in place cause yah still be needin’ my magic. A guess I’ll be yer pet till yah have successfully gotten yer own back. Because it’s somethin’ that makes yah complete. And when returned, yah’ll have no need for mine. To be better off. Contracts are very critical of data and wordin’ really does come into play. It’s a reason why demon’s are particularly crafty about how they word it to make it sound grand for the person signin’ into it but really, it be a noose. Just glided in gold.”
If Calia was a different sort of person, one could bet she’d have all kinds of ideas on things to make him do. Things that would rival Nysia’s nonsense, or perhaps even worse, make Calia truly the worst sort of villain. It wasn’t lost on her that with such a binding, she could in fact make him do practically anything. Be a literal pet to fawn over her. Destroy people and things she wanted to destroy, while pretending it wasn’t her own hands that did so. She could use him and squeeze him for everything he had.
…and from the luring whispers of that false-jackal fae, Calia could demand he rip his own heart out of his chest and give it to her. Take his heart and magic for good and let him wither away and die.
Such a thing didn’t even remotely appeal to her. The monster assumed that power was the thing she wanted most and that couldn’t be the furthest from the truth. These future creatures she was now prophesized to run into would likely believe the same, to attempt to enchant and charm her with promises of endless magic, vengeance, and the freedom of chaos. They’d find out quickly, she was not the sort.
So much so that it had her thinking just whether or not this binding was still worth keeping.
“So then if I did accept the fallen prince’s heart and my magic was returned, it would mean this binding contract fulfilled. No more gilded leash.” she mused aloud, not really asking the question so much as thinking it over. Calia still felt taking another’s heart was not the right course for her, for so many different reasons. But she wasn’t so keen on holding a man against his will. Maybe if Archimedes had indeed been such a monstrous demon that his goal was to run out into the world and cause all sorts of evil, then she would hold tight and manage him like a particularly unruly horse. Only, he wasn’t. Keeping him on a leash seemed to have no purpose.
Mouth went to reply but halted. Almost as if he was suddenly aware that her question had been somewhat rhetorical. She didn’t know that he brought the heart with him, did she? Closing lips to then just sort of listen a moment. Waiting as thoughts made an effort of deep contemplation.
“I won’t lie and say that a good portion of me is rightfully nervous that if I upset yah in any sort of way that might be a kneejerk reaction to spur yer ire, yah might just jerk on that leash.” Arc offered her knowing it wasn’t going to sound good in anyway he tried to construct it. “But the question is, would yah be comfortable at this point losin’ access to a font of magic?”
He wasn’t a fan of being a fancy slave. But he had agreed to the contract to save his hide and the results were thus.
So far, Calia hadn’t shown that she was a viper in the grass wishing to dole out punishment for anything he had done. And he did want to believe that she wasn’t liable too either. It was still wary nature to be uncertain if someone could be trusted entirely to hold the life of another in their arms. “Do yah even want to be bound to the likes of a demon, I suppose is a better question?”
“…I am not sure what I will do when I get pissed off, either,” Calia admitted with a heavy grimace. It would’ve seemed unusually frank and truthful, if she were not already one who tended to admit such truths, even the ones that made her look terrible. This was certainly one of those cases, having to own the fact she had a kind temper that seemed to forget there could be collateral damage.
“There is a part of me that… shifts? I used to think it was shutting off emotions and feeling nothing at all. Only, it’s the opposite of that. I feel everything all at once to such an extreme that it all funnels into that one singular moment, so I can do what I need to do. I’ve always been that way, so I can’t really blame it all on recent traumas. You’re not going to tease me into lashing out if I lost my temper. …but if I feel betrayed or threatened? I am likely to hurt you.”
That was such a wild thing to say out loud, and even Calia seemed uncomfortable to say it. Only, she knew herself so well and she could have patience when she needed to. In most cases she could tell when someone was just playing with her and being harmless. Things took a turn when she was hurt, and that was so much harder to predict because sometimes one just didn’t know when sometime was going to hit some sort fragile part of her.
“I would say you’re not safe with me,” she finally said with a frown. “…Except right now, I feel safe with you. Having a source of power is nice, but I can be dangerous without magic. Without the magic, I felt like I was slowly losing my mind. I am not myself without it, I can’t live without it.”
“So then to answer the better question, I am not concerned about being bound to a demon, as you’re giving me a sense of peace. But I am concerned that I’ll ruin this because I am not to be trusted.”
There was no comfort in the truth at this moment. Knowing that Calia was for all intents and purposes, a very volatile person. Her emotions ran hot. Quick as a steed and just as wild depending on the moment. He would describe her as someone that felt intensely about everything and sought to close off those emotions in the same breath.
Although he wasn’t blaming her on the fact that when she felt threatened or betrayed, she responded in the quickest route of returning that pain. Doubling it at least to declare the infraction made with no room to quip about semantics. And of course, he knew now that he had certainly the ability to press on those very things.
Had he still been lapse of memories that bound him to a mortal compass, he wouldn’t have thought twice. Now? Now… he wasn’t so keen on inviting that level of chaos back. Because they both knew the font of his magic was quite deep. Powerful and Calia was already learning swiftly how to use it through herself. It wouldn’t take much for her to give a command to ensure there was pain thrice crippling should he incur such a wrath.
Such a thing would be deserved.
But what if he didn’t know. Stepped over on a fragile part to crush it and her response was to harm back because it was an eye for eye.
Her statement about how he was not safe with her wasn’t exactly the sort given to garner sympathy. She knew she was a very dangerous person but also knew that she was likely to be worse without the flow of magic inside her. If she was simply human, it would be a question of how she just was accustomed to the power. But as a fae, magic was their blood. They needed it to live.
“I guess then it takes us to start mendin’ those fissures that make yah think so boldly that yer not trustworthy.” Arc offered sincerely, “Calia, yah can be trusted. Yah may not know it yet but considerin’ yer dealin’ with someone that sacrificed his entire family to demons on a baseless hope, I dare say we might be both untrustworthy for actin’ in ways we thought best. Even if they may not be.”
He paused then, “All I ask is… don’t treat me like a pet. Or a slave. Even in moments of anger. I ain’t guna try to piss yah off purposefully but mistakes happen. Unless thin’s are said plainly, I could bumble into somethin’ that upsets yah unintentionally. Just like yah did last night with me. Shit happens, we both just need to understand that it does. To lash out immediately isn’t guna help either of us.” The man lifted arms behind that of his head as they walked. “Havin’ a friend means givin’ them the benefit of the doubt, even when it’s hard.”
Calia listened well, though there was that immediately dubious expression at him announcing she could be trusted. Not so sure about that, as Calia wasn’t even comfortable trusting herself these days. Being yanked this way and that both by means of emotions in dealing with other people, and the constant up and down of magic, no magic, a little magic, all the magic and that by itself was like a monsoon battering her around back and forth.
At least there was solace in finally understanding where that feral shift in her came from. Handling her emotions not in a normal human way how everyone else around her did, instead apparently falling back into some fae instinct of being. Wild, tumultuous, uncontrollable. Something that likely wasn’t an issue around other fae, as they could take it and throw it right back.
“I will never treat you like a pet or a slave,” she affirmed with full confidence. It was not who she was even at her deepest core, no amount of anger was going to turn her into someone she wasn’t. “I will do my best to breathe before speaking, to speak before acting.”
Finally she broke into a smile, reaching out to tug gently at his clothes.
“And you will have to understand, there is no double meaning to my words,” she reminded him. Because this had been a problem before. “What I say is what I mean, there will be no word games or attempts to manipulate or abuse you. I meant when I said I’d like this to be a partnership of friends. So we can walk away from it better, healed of hearts and not damaged further.”
He could hope that she wouldn’t. It was probably the only thing he was going to be pretty salty about. Is if he was demeaned into something lesser than what he was. To be based as an animal rather than a living, breathing, albeit a mess of a demon. Still he knew that she meant what she said and found himself nodding to agree that he accepted it.
That he would also do well at being mindful when possible. Although he certainly couldn’t promise not getting a bit impish when the mood struck, that hadn’t been a personality tick only born from being a horned devil, but rather himself. He’d always been flippant, mischievous and promiscuous in the worst ways.
With a tug to clothing and the reveal of a grin that properly highlighted that she was hardly some wicked hen of a witch. “I know. Yer blunt about yer words, just sometime’s feelin’s ain’t the best at receivin’ honesty. That’s somethin’ I’ve gotta deal with of course.” Arc chuckled to her, dropping a hand to take one of her own and gave it a thoughtful squeeze. “I’ve been pretty distant from the whole friend aspect for a good chunk of time. But I know enough.” Eyes rotated back around to the emerald forest they were walking through.
Looking up the towering titans of the timbers. “Now I’ve gotta ask cause the curiosity is been there for a while, how in the hells does a child conceal magic like yers anyways? It’s been itchin’ to be asked.”
A squeeze of the hand was a curious and forgeign thing. Calia could be plenty physical but that had only ever come out in terms of a sparring fight or rolling around in bed with someone. In other cases she simply didn’t allow it. Either she was to intimidating so others didn’t dare to initiate, or they tempted fate and she veered off like some feral hissing cat. So this means of contact was so new and interesting, she examined it in a literal sense of pulling his hand up to examine fingers and palm as if that was going to allow her to understand him better.
“You just don’t use the magic,” came her simple reply. A sad reply, as imagine having magic flowing through you begging to come out and then denying it every hour of the day. There was a shrug of her shoulders, though, just accepting it for what it was.
“People tend to not believe what they’re seeing when something is a little off or odd. When I was very little, it also wasn’t very… noticeable? Things happened around me and no one put the pieces together.” She verbally paused, trying to think of how to describe such a thing. It was like trying to explain how you sucked air into your lungs without thinking about doing it on purpose. “When I realized it was something I ought not be doing, I just didn’t use it. I’d sneak out and leave home. Out to the farmlands, or off to the nearby forests. Then I learned how to travel quickly and I went as far as I dared and took up space as I pleased where no one could see me.”
Why on earth she had brought his hand up to give it the whole examination as if she was trying to tell if there were stray cookie crumbs under nails, a singular brow had arched at her. Not outright saying what are you doing but highly implying it. Likely obvious that he wasn’t so aware that she found such basic motions so puzzling. Or that she had been generally resistant to every day platonic affections that it warranted such a look over.
Once hand was freed and he repeated the look at it just in case she seen something on it that he hadn’t before, fingers flexed before they were idly cracked. Quizzing on his wonderment that was revealed to be quite the saddening thing.
“Yah didn’t have magic backflow?” he asked then paused, “Wild surge. It appears when one doesn’t use their magic, or does it randomly. Akin to tryin’ to put a gallon of water into a thimble. It can burst out.” Which her saying that things happened or were odd may have been that. Until she started to sneak out to invest into learning things about herself.
“Considerin’ yer trainin’ is only from yerself, yer control of it is impressive. Though a part of me, prolly the more mortal part, actually feels sympathy for yah. No child ought to be left to their own devices to feel like an outsider in their own world. Or hold such burdens.”
“Magic backflow…” she repeated the words, testing them on her tongue along with the explanation he gave with it. Wild surge sounded a lot more accurate and in that moment, there was such a dawning on her fingers, finally having an actual turn of phrase for moments she really hadn’t thought deeply on before, besides just believing… well. Magic could be dangerous and she was wielding it poorly. Of course in the back of her mind she’d always been aware that not using her magic as it wanted to be used had caused her just as much grief, but apparently those moments of spontaneous lack of being able to reign it in had been because she wasn’t suppose to!
“…I guess I did have many moments of wild surges. I didn’t– I didn’t know to avoid using it was just as problematic. At least, not consciously aware? I was surely miserable until I started sneaking away.”
As for his sympathy Calia merely grinned, a wicked sort of thing making light of the statement and her history. There were plenty of things she had ill feelings about and maybe a lingering bit of bitterness, but Calia had also been happy… mostly happy. It’s not as if she’d been abused terribly.
“If my family hadn’t been what they were, chances are I’d not be as I am now. I knew I was different and at odds with everyone else, but they loved me as I was even when I was strange and difficult. I guess it helped that my siblings too were a little weird in their own ways. No matter where I went or what I did, I always wanted to come back home to them, where I knew I was loved.”
That wicked grin of hers faded, something more akin to being haunted by all kinds of regrets. It even twisted up her stomach.
“Now I get to be everything that I am without anymore secrets or holding back – but they’re gone. I’m free but alone, and I don’t like it. A lot of what I’m doing now feels pointless, yet I have no desire to lay down and die either. It’s… difficult to navigate.”
Those who didn’t have magic made it seem like it was this omnipotent powerful tool with no repercussions. It just existed. People with it were just amazing from day one and nothing ever happened poorly. When in reality, magic was like anything else. Untrained or untapped, it could run wild. Everything needed rules and freedom. To be managed but not constrained. It was always one of the lessons he hated most. Especially as a young boy watching his father and having to learn that he couldn’t just use his own gifts however he wanted. Not that he didn’t at times, but it could have consequences. And when he didn’t use it, it found ways of leaking out.
So nodding to Calia as she expressed she did have those moments, he understood. Even if she was shortly grinning like a feral cheeky goblin at the face he was being sincere about his thoughts. There was some bit of truth then though, that while she didn’t tell them or show them what she could do, they still loved her as she was.
There was harmony in that.
Even if now one could see how it sat in her chest. How she expressed she had that freedom but those she used to go back home too were absent. He wouldn’t say gone, he’d seen people feeling Caeldalmor after all and well, a little hope wasn’t hard to press into.
“Not pointless. Complicated perhaps.” Arc suggested but he also didn’t press into it like he as some spokesman about to give her some answer to life. To sing and dance to a tune that would just make everything all better. Settling into walking for a time till he tried his hand at mollifying the mood.
Eventually a grin bloomed and he was chuckling, “It’s a good thin’ she ain’t around, or I’ll be findin’ out right quick that hauntin’ people is a real thin’.” The demon glanced to her, “Lyra. My wee sister. She was gifted with ice magic in particular and she was similar to you. Strong willed, proud and had no issue pushin’ back whether she was right or wrong. Her test that vara had given her was to chill some drinks on a hot day. Mind yah, she was maybe only about eight or nine. Full of piss and vinegar, and smug about it. Not impressed to be asked to do somethin’ so beneath her.” Highlighting the tone with a roll of eyes.
“Regardless, vara told her what to do and she was full of herself. Wantin’ to do better.” He motioned a wave of his hand, “A little swirl of icy mist is harder to control than somethin’ bold! In her smugness, that nice, crisp coolness, was a violent blizzard eruptin’ from fingertips. Air began to howl. The tankards turned to solid ice and somehow, against all logic, a giant, frozen cucumber materialized in midair. Before slamming down into the ground. Stickin’ out like some icicle of doom.” Arc grinned fondly, “A moment of silence as vara just sat there gawpin’, liable to catch flies at any second. Our middle brother, Jakson bein’ the kid of especially well timed wit, just say, she’s done it – she’s weaponized produce.”
A glint to eye, “Suffice to say, never seen the brother run as fast from a girl while vara was both attemptin’ to figure out how she managed it and what to do with a giant cuke in the yard!” Hands lifted, “Wild surges can be quite ridiculous and she wasn’t none to happen to have it referenced ever in passin’. But it still amuses the hell outta me.”
Calia was still debating on whether or not it was all pointless, at least content for now that she was taking steps towards something instead of just being aimless and useless herself. Certainly not the life she ever imagined she would have, and it was likely to take her in wild new directions. It was something, though. Anything to not be lying in the dirt just wishing she was dead and gone.
She’d not minded the silence even if it was a bit gloomy for her. The way she perked up when he started speaking of his own sister was an immediate shift. Listening with due interest to this story of a girl who apparently was very much like herself in temperament, and in favored magic.
Setting Calia into loud raucous laughter, as that was surely anew one for her too! Never had she herself accidentally summoned up giant produce as a backlash, even if she related deeply to a young girl trying to show off her mettle. To attempt something that seemed to simple at a glance, but was actually so much more difficult than the more explosive things. Fire and storms all you had to do was gather it up and let it go wild. That was not the case for tiny little delicate things. There was so much control involved in weaving it in such a small space.
“Maybe there is something alluring about icy magic to fiery tempers,” she declared with humor. “We would have gotten along beautifully… much to the horror of everyone that had to deal with a feral girl gang.”
How different life would’ve been if Calia had friends similar enough to her. Ones that had magic and knew what it was like not quite living in the same plane as everyone else. Minded, she knew even mages were not quite the same as herself. At least it was close, as no one truly understood what it was liking having magic at your fingers until they wielded it themselves.
She did pause though, hesitating a moment before just getting the courage enough to ask. The man had his own traumas and regrets, and Calia had the feeling no one had even tried to ask him about it. Maybe Aien, but she couldn’t even be sure of that.
“Do you… know what happened with her?” was the tentative question. Calia knew his family died, in the same way she knew her own family died. It was assumptions due to circumstances, but one didn’t really know for sure until someone finally revealed the truth. “And the rest of your family too, after all went the way it did?”
“Yah two would have been a dangerous combination, certainly. Proud and powerful.” Arc stated this factually without a hidden sarcastic twist to the end. Knowing that had Lyra had a chance to meet Calia, she’d have eagerly talked to her about everything unladylike. Swords and magic. Tactics and ideas of torturing siblings. To have the confidence to speak about things that were likely the hidden subject matters that made them quietly nervous but not to the naked eye.
The story had always been one he liked to talk about just from the plain insanity of how wild magic could surge so terribly. And he was sure that his father was haunted by cucumber’s till the very end.
Lips were curled quietly mulling over the memory till she asked him the question. And it all stopped being amusing. Rather chest tightened. Breath came to a near halt from the squeeze and his gaze only barely flickered to her from the corner of his eye. Teeth finding the soft flesh of lip to bite into as he braced to even think about it. Let alone answer. “It was in the night that the hell gate opened. I surmise they were killed swiftly from the demon’s floodin’ in.” Fangs grazed to almost threaten to pull blood, “I can only take a mild comfort that they were restin’ when they were killed. And didn’t get to see exactly what I done.”
Arc shrugged indifferently then, “I just hope they died fast.”
Calia made a soft sound of agreement – that she hoped it was swift. Though, it was not a definitive knowing, was it. Just an assumption of the worse case, because it was impossible to see how it could be anything else. With no one to verify whether it was true, or how it happened. It must at least be true, in that surely one of the royal family would’ve mentioned he still had family alive.
Though a tiny little part of her wondered, would it not have been a good time for a disappearance? Taking an unclaimed royal child away to vanish. With her family already fallen apart, one could easily just run and start a new life. Hell, Calia might’ve done so herself if she had a little one to protect from a hellish reputation and a life mother and child wouldn’t be happy in.
She decided to keep these thoughts to herself as it as nothing more than fanciful pondering and would do him no good to wonder and hope about something that likely didn’t have a cold chance in the hells. After all, Calia didn’t even believe any of her own family had survived. So how could Arc’s after all this time remain hidden and unknown. Even as elves, they would’ve had to leave the continent for certain.
Calia reached out, nothing more than a quick brushing touch to his back, and that was all that was necessary.
“…well, as far as ice cold cucumbers go, it is good that happened when you were all young. Because if you’d all been teens, I can only image the amount of dick jokes that may have haunted your father for years.”
It might be the only solace he had with the crimes and guilt he carried so heavily. To believe that his family had not been awoken with the opening of a gate due to a folly of a promise and they didn’t know that it was his actions that doomed them all. Not entirely sure how he would have responded, let alone felt if one of them lived and could blame him to his face. He’d never been a perfect child. Disliking mostly the rules that were imposed when it came to behaving a certain way. Family appearances and reputation. How they had to cull their natures all to keep the peace for people that were just nosy enough to be gossipy chatterboxes.
But he’d never wished them harm. They’d been the focal point of his life. An example of what he could have, would achieve one day.
Just they were gone and he had to live with the reality that the family names were forever wiped from the plane of existence.
It was a heavy crushing sensation on his very being. One that easily threatened to suffocate if the timing was just right. So imagine his surprise when Calia was momentarily brushing his back. Pulling attention once more to consider the young woman and the effort she gave to try and stir the conversation away from the bleak reality that couldn’t be escaped from. Offering a quiet chuckle, “I mean, who’s to say we didn’t? Just not in front of Lyra. She might not have ever turned a blade at us, but she could be clever in ways of gettin’ even. I’d say she had an advantage of bein’ the only girl, but that would be a lie.”
“You might very well have been finding cold cucumbers in your beds and beyond for the rest of your life,” she mused, giving him a wide fresh grin. it was good that he could laugh and talk about it, Calia decided. Better that he didn’t go the way she did in those first few weeks of being pure despair and anger. They could avoid him making fresh new mistakes and… well, avoid herself falling into the same trap if she were so fussed about looking after him.
A strange thing to feel responsible for someone other than herself. Of course she was responsible for a whole kingdom of people now, but it was not quite the same as this. Someone you knew with a face and a voice and an immediate need. Almost laughing out loud about the thought, because she’d felt similarly about having Mercy to look after, and he most certainly did not want to have himself set on the same plane as a pet she was coddling!
“In any case, I think I might be inspired now,” a mysterious state to go along with rubbing her hands together to pull up some measure of their shared magic in her palms. “I’ve never conjured anything up that was absolutely stupid, I feel like it is such a good way to derail any sort of problem. I have so many questions! Of just… how!”
“Yer thinkin’ too small.” Brows arched up as she suggested that of sister would have been inspired to leave frozen cucumbers all over the place just for them to find. “The thin’ was, she was patient even if she had the mood of a angry badger that had been woken up too early. And what’s worse than that, a patient elf. For they are dangerous.”
Arc gave a bit of a sigh. “Once she waited until the grand midsummer festival, when the entire village would be gathered in the glade. When Eryndel, a boy that had made fun of her and some various thin’s, in all his smug glory, stepped onto the ceremonial platform to perform his self-proclaimed legendary swords dance.” A finger lifted, “And that was when her spell took effect. The lad didn’t know what the hell he was guna happen but with that first dramatic flourish, his boots betrayed him.”
He motioned with fingers a sort of spectacle of how the kid’s feet had gone. “Eryndel’s feet skidded across the polished stone like a newborn fawn on ice. Attempting to correct himself only made it worse—one foot shot out, then the other, until he was performin’ a dance no elf had ever seen before. The majestic Elven Twisting Flail.” He could still hear the way the crowd had gasped. Then giggles bursting into roaring laughter. Till the very eldest themselves were barely holding back smiles. “Yah’d think she was done. Nope. She had his cloak enchanted so that at the peak of his movement, with arms wide and head held high- the damn thin’ exploded into a flock of tiny, colourful songbirds.” Eyes peeked towards her, “It might have been a good thin’ the two of yah never met. She’d give yah all sorts of ideas that were mostly harmless but absolutely not what yah would think comin’ from a lady like herself.”
Of course she was inspired. And he might not have been helping that considering he was talking about things the late sister had done. It was no wonder why men had trouble approaching her when she was older. She had a reputation and a fiery tongue to boot.
“How?” He asked, “Creativity I suppose. And a hidden mystery to be slightly goofy. Granted the cucumber was a surprise to her too. And now I suspect yah to be summonin’ massive vegetables any time yah don’t wanna deal with someone.”
Imagine a woman that had so much patience, she could orchestrate the finest of vengeance. Legitimately impressive to Calia who tended to think in short term solutions. If someone pisses her off, stop talking to them or hit them if they’re persistent. Simple. Even with the bastard Derrick, while she might wish him endless suffering and ponder up some ideas on how to do so, in the end Calia was certain it’d be a quick and simple murder. Problem solved.
With the grand story of the silliest vengeance known to man, Calia was laughing again, though.
“She is sounding more and more like my elder sister. Planning and creativity, resulting in the strangest of solutions. Full of pure nonsense that always seemed to just work out.”
It did make Calia wonder about fae blood amongst her siblings. Before, Calia had just felt like the odd one out, with no understanding where her magic came from. However, if she were of fae descent, that meant they were as well. As far as she knew, none of them had magic, but now thinking about the lot of them, they too had their moments of being a little bit off. A tiny bit different in their own weird ways. Fae-touched if not fae blooded.
What a torture to now know these new things and not even be able to talk to them about it.
Instead of brooding over that, Calia focused instead on the magic in her hands. Pulling palms apart until a swirl of icy mist made a nice solid form of a cucumber’s shape. To see if she could! Attempting to draw out his magic, apply it into her own style… see if she could create said produce from the aether like it was nothing.
Still it was just ice. With a frustrated huff she dispelled what was in her hand, taking to a quick stooping inside along the path they walked. Drawing a finger long a line in the dirt, leaving behind springing growing vines along the way with the green vegetable popping up soon after from it’s tiny yellow flowers.
Despite such an ease of using the magic, she looked disgruntled. Working it out in her head of the hows and whys.
“It seems it is not as easy as it sounds. I may have to stick with dropping molten stone from the sky.”
“Mhmm, she had her moments where she would just reach out and yank an ear. Slap someone upside the head. But for those ones that really pissed her off, the long haul she enjoyed.” Features were turned in sweet fondness, “I loved her more than anythin’. All of them but Lyra and myself, we might have only been half siblin’s, but we were close. She was my baby sister and the first girl that loved me as me. Siblin’ like, nothin’ outside that.” Brows pressed a moment with a thought as though he were searching for facts in his own statement.
Eleanor hadn’t hated him. But he was her step child. There was respect, affectionate but it wasn’t motherly. Ashera had been a large portion of that fill in when she really didn’t have too. The only thing was when Eleanor tried to step in with ways that highly favoured the Bloodworth name over Silverstone, his father was quick to cut that off at the pass. Thankfully, his father had never shirked his parental duties to him for love.
“Yer sister, yah can’t just start like that and not elaborate. Yah clearly had siblin’ bonds too.”
Even if Calia was shortly trying her hand at the magical essence to replicate the wild surge that had plagued Lyra in her moment. Just that the young woman present didn’t know how to do it and he had no advice to give her. Set to watching a moment before chuckling at the whole idea that she might just have to drop stones from the heavens.
“Wild surges aren’t always predictable. I doubt even she could have replicated it and I doubt even I could. It’s why they can be pretty hilarious or absolutely devastatin’. Heard enough horror stories from Vara about those that ended up being very destructive.”
“Replicating is just a matter of the… how and where,” she stated, contemplative at that because she was still trying to figure it out herself. Holding her palms up in front of her face in an examination, as if she looking right at the magic in her hands attempting to figure out some secret recipe.
He insisted she couldn’t just drop a mention of her sister and leave it at al, successfully distracting her from the magic for a moment. He clearly loved his own without even having to say it flat out as he did. Calia could hear it in his voice and the way he told the stories about her. Truly a surprisingly thing to learn about him, recognizing he really did have a life before he was a demon. Before he’d wrapped himself up so deeply in his own bullshit that all he had was, as he’d said a few times… piss and vinegar.
“Imagine the very picture of a storybook princess and that would be my sister. Not a single mean or vicious bone in her body, she was sweet and kind, and almost everyone adored her. Those who didn’t tended to not like people in general, so they didn’t much count anyway. Araminta always knew the right thing to say when you were upset or scared, which could be infuriating because sometimes you just wanted to be pissed off without someone trying to fix it.”
With a little bit more pondering on that front, Calia was having the hardest time trying to think to a single moment where her sister had been genuinely angry. Of course there’d been plenty of squabbles between the lot of them, but Araminta was too soft to start yelling at any of them. Calia doubted the woman even knew any curse words.
“…she was full of her own mischief though. A gentle mischief. The kind where you steal fruit pies from the kitchens, or sneak in the entire pack of hounds because it was too cold outside for them. Laughing herself sick when our eldest brother was chased around the pond by swans because she’d stuffed his pockets full of bread.”
“Yah push it too hard and yah just might stumble into somethin’ accidentally explosive.” He never thought he’d be the one to say it, “Sometimes yah just gotta let the magic feel through yah without havin’ to pull at every thread.” Considering he could tell she just felt most of her magic. And well a good portion of him now was highly curious to see what sort of frozen produce she might materialize to throw at someone in an unexpected twist.
Would the tower they were working towards, be turned into a frigid pineapple with the mad mages inside? It shouldn’t have amused him as much as it did. Managing to keep it inside the sort of giggling that was maniacal rather than anything good. However if something like that happened. He hardly would discourage it. Quite the opposite.
However his interest had been piqued at the vague mention of a sister. Calia hadn’t actively spoken about her family much and he could understand why. In the same vain to himself, it wasn’t easy. Looking back on them in a historical setting instead of knowing that they were alive and well and you were just talking active shit about them. But it was still good to reflect on even if there was sadness attached to it.
As she spoke and the name flickered across his thoughts, it seemed familiar. Although trying to figuratively grasp it was akin to trying to grab a ghost. It slipped through fingers and felt like a passing consideration than anything solid. But if felt like it was something he had heard. Or vaguely knew about in the means of demonic conversation that had passed through his awareness before leaving Caeldalmor. Yet what? He couldn’t say.
The phantom of a thought was only just that. A phantom. Leaving him not to speak on it but hum at the idea that Calia and Araminta were as polar opposite as one could probably get. Similarities but not so deep that they could be convinced as siblings. Possibly by looks alone.
“And yer brothers?” He asked stirring that means of curiosity forward. “Just seein’ how utterly different yah all are, is all.”
At the warning of not pushing things too hard lest it go explosive, it was a very willful look from Calia that suggested she didn’t mind that in the slightest. However, she did stop trying to fuss around with the magic for the time being. Whether or not that was from his warning, or just because she was distracted now with this means of conversation, was unclear.
Surprisingly, it was not hard for Calia to talk about her siblings and family. It had been before, too hard to even think about them at first. When she’d spoken about them with Rhelic there were those pains and twists in her stomach. Even now there was a twinge of things, just not so obvious. Calia wasn’t presently wallowing in her anger or her grief and it somehow left her free to think without getting swept away in that more difficult range of emotions.
Focusing her attention on his curiosity with a curiosity of her own to see where opening up these useless details of information was going to take him.
“Those two? I suppose Haaron had a lot more in common with myself and you. He liked women and flirting and being a charming menace to everyone. I’d say he didn’t have two braincells to put together but that’s unfair. I think he just didn’t want anyone to know he was clever when he wanted to be. There’s less responsibility when everyone thinks you’re a ne’er do well.”
Calia crossed her arms, a thoughtful expression falling over features.
“Then there was Fitzgerald, the eldest son and crowned heir. Fitz was my favorite. He was always butting heads with father, because the man was deadset on a bunch of old fashioned bullshit. He was an incredible swords master, yet he never let father find out for pure spite. You’d think he was ill-tempered since he never really smiled or fooled around like the rest of us. He always looked after us, though. Made sure we could do what we wished as long as we weren’t getting into any real trouble.”
They were quite the variety of a bunch, weren’t they. And he almost could have scoffed and rolled his eyes more so towards the one named Fitzgerald –almost feeling truly terrible for the guy because what sort of name was that to give to a Prince! Keeping such a comment private, Arc could feel for him. How Calia described the eldest as the one that was the most responsible one.
The one with the greatest weight of responsibility on his shoulders while looking out for his siblings. It made him wonder quietly if Fitz also had been unfairly pressed into his role like that of Carlisle. Had death been a welcomed release from expectations, pre-mediated plans, the pressure of being the absolute best to follow tradition and being bold enough to push back against that very same thing.
Something about that made him guess that Fitz also would have liked to have more free reign. How Calia said he had made sure they could do whatever they wanted so long as trouble most foul wasn’t on their heels, but did the guy also have the same freedoms.
“Quite the motley crew.” Arc chuckled softly, “I am sure yer parents had their hands plenty full with the variety.”
Calia opened into a smile, crossing her arms loosely and shrugging her shoulders.
“I don’t think they had enough children, even despite our nonsense. Both of them were completely obsessed with the idea of having dozens of grandchildren running off in all directions. I think they liked the chaos.”
Those constant subtle hints that eventually became not-so-subtle complaining from both her parents about wanting to see their children married and having families of their own had driven Calia mad. Lucky in many ways that every single one of her siblings seemed to share the same reluctance to just settled on someone good enough within reach. Fitz had been the only one, really, who had his childhood sweetheart and then actually got married. But even he hadn’t rushed into it! Seeming to want to spent a while just being with his wife before having children of his own. He’d always been that mindful sort.
“…lucky, I guess that my mother was so against betrothals. She wanted us to be happy and choose for ourselves. Still didn’t mean she wasn’t complaining endlessly about how old she was getting and how awful it was without babies in the castle.”
Now it was stinging… that realization that her mother wasn’t going to get her single aspiration of watching her children grow up and have children of their own. It wasn’t something Calia ever gave two thoughts about, but it’d been so important to the woman. How terrible it was that someone could die before they got to have their life’s fulfillment.
“…I’m not sure I want to talk about this anymore,” she admitted, blinking back any attempt of tears in favor of dropping her arms to roll her shoulders. To shake it all off and find something else to focus on. This stupid tower of mages that was going to take two days of travel to get to, and how she would have to try not to burn it down the second she saw something she didn’t like.
Ears lifted comically high to show he was a bit shocked at the detail that her parents had been obsessed with a potential of having such a lively castle. It sounded absolutely horrid to him. Granted, outside his niece, he was not a large fan of children. They were fine but he never wanted any of his own. Never wanted to deal with the chaos that they brought and the worries that joined hands with that said chaos. Or what sort of terrors they could turn into.
Only having a good idea of what sort of terror he had been and guessing that the curse that most parents gave of I hope yours are exactly like you was too real of a threat.
Her parents clearly enjoyed that nonsense and if people liked it then that was for them. However, if he was about to make a comment about it, Calia declared she was not wishing to continue the topic at all. Needing not to really understand the sudden why for it, but hummed. “Alright.” Being mindful and considerate in a way that highly didn’t benefit his demonic nature. Settling into the silent motion of walking.
Settling to look at the towering trees stretch high above them, their massive trunks rising like ancient sentinels guarding a world of mysticism. The air is thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, the quiet murmur of distant wildlife drifting through the canopy. Rays of sunlight filter down through the thick boughs, casting a warm, dappled glow on the forest floor, where thick ferns and lush moss blanket the ground. The sounds of soft bird calls and the occasional rustle of leaves underfoot punctuate the otherwise tranquil silence.
The path before them winding, disappearing around corners where the trunks of the ancient redwoods seem to stretch impossibly far. The forest felt alive in a way he hadn’t felt in eons—vibrant and timeless, as if the very trees themselves are whispering forgotten secrets. The cool breeze whispers through the branches, carrying with it the faintest hint of magic, a pulse that resonates with the natural beauty of the forest.
With each step, the journey toward the mage tower felt both long and soothing. The soft crunch of leaves beneath boots filled the air in a gentle rhythm, a grounding sound that matches the steady beat of heart. Feeling the weight of the forest’s age around them, the steady passing of time in the deep roots of the trees and the steady drip of dew falling from the leaves above.
Every now and then, a flash of movement caught that of his eye—a deer darting through the underbrush, a squirrel clambering up a tree. The monotony of the walk is punctuated by these fleeting glimpses of life, brief but beautiful.
Calia half expected him to poke and prod, finding herself relieved that he didn’t. While she did not mind talking about most things, it seemed she’d accidentally stumbled into something that hurt enough she didn’t want to slip into right now. Appreciating deeply that this time he’d actually listened and let her be.
Things could have been hella different had it went this way the first time around!
Taking those long quiet moments to navigate her way through those feelings without stuffing them down. Spending time in that inner world trying to decipher the difference between things she actually wanted for herself from things she kept thinking she should do for people who weren’t even here anymore. Her mother had not gotten her life’s wish of all her children married and having babies… Calia could surely make that happen in her honor but… egads, no!
Better to honor her mother in a different way. Not force herself into some new prison of expectations by ghosts and phantoms.
Eventually the tension in her shoulders eased away having that time to think to herself. Until she left the inner world of her thoughts back to the physical world to really take notice of the forest around them. It was all things she’d taken in during those first few days in the elven lands. How everything felt ever so touched by magic. Now that she had experienced a faerie wood, she could tell the differences from here and there. From here to Caeldalmor, where magic was not infused in much of anywhere until one got close to the deep fir forests where the fae did live.
There was comfort here in the natural quiet… even moreso in the fact she wasn’t all by herself. A thing she’d noticed in traveling with Rhelic, where there was a new appreciation for having a companion nearby. No need for speaking the entire time, just existing in close proximity.
And to have magic freely at her fingertips again, with no more fears about having to keep it concealed and contained within her? Calia used it at will. Touching a tree here and there that needed a little help with late spring bloom. Brushes fingers through a bush as she passed to give encouragement to not yet ready to open cocoons with future summer butterflies. She’d picked up a frog for a little bit, with a clear grin on her face she was thinking about the poor thing getting launched into the stratosphere before she sent it hopping on it’s way, on the ground where it belonged.
If there was ever any doubt that she belonged out in the wilds, the only thing that was missing was her bareass running through the woods like a furry yeti.
It was likely well beyond the highest peak of noon before he started to notice the very subtle changes in the very forest. Nothing grand and so bold that it stood out like said frozen cuke in the middle of the dense woods, but secretive things. The flow of magic was changing. Becoming stronger. Bold enough that it wasn’t difficult for him to guess that the sensation was similar if not entirely related to a young fae tree in the woods somewhere nearby.
A glance towards Calia and he said nothing. Curious to see if she was picking up on it and how fast she was going to go trotting towards it.
Calia was as readable as a book out here in the woods. With no persona or mask to hide behind because of social obligations, her thoughts and experiences were so very expressive. To pinpoint the very moment she tilted her head listening to something off in the deep forest. The way she wiggled her fingers at her sides, feeling and touching the magic that lingered in the air.
The real problem was that she absolutely was going to deviate and trot towards it. No verbal cue, no warning, just an automatic turn off the path to start heading into the giant redwoods. Maybe it could be excused that she just wasn’t used to traveling with a companion and not knowing the proper lets check that out etiquette. Except it was more likely she was a moth to a fire, following after something irresistible and instinctual.
Especially because Calia had no reason to fear fae if she was one. That was what her inner logic declared and there would be no convincing her otherwise. Following after a forest song she was certain only she could hear.
If he was supposed to be shocked that she had veered off the beaten path, he wasn’t showing it. Merely standing there a moment before sauntering after the woman that had been likely following after that sensation budding upon the air. Practically growing by the second that they walked amongst the sea of redwood giants.
Although he was curious to see what Calia was going to do, seeing as she was set free amongst the very means of nature itself. Yet if there were more detours like this, it would take them much longer to reach the tower at all! Maybe Starling would be more than half crazed by that point and giving all the more reasons for them to topple tower and mage alike.
It wasn’t too deep before the pungent deepening of magic began to thicken the air. Eyes no sooner finding the fae tree standing proudly amongst the towering redwoods, no longer a delicate sapling but not yet a massive ancient. Its trunk is smooth and gracefully twisted, a rich blend of deep mahogany and shimmering silver veins that pulse faintly, as though the tree itself breathes with life. The roots stretch out like seeking fingers, intertwining with the moss-covered forest floor, glowing softly where they meet clusters of tiny bioluminescent mushrooms.
The leaves are the heart of its magic. They are not one color but a breathtaking spectrum, shifting between hues of gold, emerald, violet, and sapphire with the softest rustle of the breeze. Some appear translucent at the edges, catching the dappled sunlight that filters through the redwood canopy above, while others bear a faint internal glow, as if holding captured starlight. When they fall, they do not wither, but drift slowly like feathers, vanishing before they touch the ground, leaving behind a brief shimmer of arcane light.
The forest around the tree hums with quiet reverence. Soft wisps of light—perhaps spirits, perhaps stray remnants of old enchantments—float lazily between the trunks, weaving through the ancient redwoods like tiny, glowing fish in an unseen current. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth, blooming wildflowers, and something more elusive—an electric, tingling sensation that prickles against the skin, the unmistakable presence of deep, untamed magic.
Despite its enchantment, the fae tree felt welcoming. It exudes a quiet warmth, a sense of knowing. This is a tree that listens, that remembers, that watches. A being of the forest, ancient yet ever-growing, holding both wisdom and wonder in its ever-shifting leaves.
“Stunning,” Calia whispered under her breath. Taking in all of the magnificent sights with a true sense of awe. The fae tree in the elven palace was ancient and beautiful in her own right, but she was humble too. Happy to be of natural beauty and cultivated to reflect the home and family she looked after. The tree of the tainted fae wood, well Calia did not know what she once looked like, having only seen the withered and blackened remains from an untold amount of years being poisoned down to nothing. To the little simply sapling she’d coaxed out of the cleansed ground.
This one seemed to take pure joy in being as extravagant as possible, a star in the forest. Free, unapologetic, gaudy in all of the best of ways. Magic wild and free and beautiful the way it was always meant to be.
There was no hesitation in her approach, beyond being mind of where she placed her feet. Not wanting to disturb even the tiniest of creatures that might be basking in the ethereal glow of the tree. Taking a small turn on those same feet to look upwards at gem like leaves and the spirit like creatures that were looming around like daytime fireflies.
“And who do you watch over, I wonder…” she murmured more to herself than an actual question.
It was quite the gaudy little thing. Not nearly as refined as the one in the Queen’s court but it was as free and wild as it wanted to be. Seemingly unbothered to where it was growing or the company it kept. But the leaves moved subtly at the appearance of them each. Although he was staying back quite a bit as not to extrude any sort of bleak aura to the brightly shining tree.
As if it were studying Calia as much as she it. “Do they need to be watchin’ over anythin’?” He asked having made himself comfortable in a lean to a redwood trunk.
“Watching over things is what trees do, Arc…” was Calia’s deadpan reply. So simple, so matter of fact, as if this was something just everyone in the world knew. Truth too, for trees breathed life giving air into the world, they gave homes and food to all within their branches. They kept the ground stable and the soil rich. A world without trees would be naught but a barren wasteland.
He could loom and haunt the outer edges all he liked, Calia was not about to lose an opportunity to meet another fae tree. Following along the roots to waltz her way through the clearing until she was standing so wonderfully under those beautiful twisted branches and colorful leaves.
Holding out a hand to see how the reflections of light set prisms on her skin.
The mountain princess was absolutely in love.
Daring enough even to close the distance so she could place palm to trunk. There was no royal family here to worry about or royal etiquette to follow. Just the freedom to say hello with a gentle touch and a listen to see if this tree even wished to speak, or if it was simply happy to have a few moments of being admired and praised for her prettiness.
Meeting that deadpan face as if that was enough of a explanation. Gesturing vaguely as if to say, she knew that was not what he meant. But so be it. If they were going to be waylaid then he was going to wander off a bit and at least take a look around where he wasn’t interrupting by any means.
Leaving said princess with that of the newest tree found. One that seemed to highly appreciate the attention given. Hardly the sort to complain about any due admiration.
When it spoke, the voice was not a single sound but many—whispers of rustling leaves, the deep groan of roots shifting underground, the soft chime of distant bells carried on the wind.
“You walk an unusual path, little daughter of the mountains.”
The tree’s hollow unseen eyes, dark and endless, settled on the fae princess, studying her with a patience that had outlasted kingdoms. “Your kin do not often tread with those who bear the scent of ash and brimstone.“
Its gaze flickered toward the distancing demon. The air hummed, magic thickening as the tree’s presence weighed down on the space between them. It was not fear, nor anger—just an awareness, sharp and assessing.
“Yet here you stand, unbroken. Unafraid.”
A pause. The glow within its bark deepened, as though drawing in breath.
“Tell me, child—does the beast walk in chains, or do you?”
Leaves fluttered, a faint shimmer of light scattering between the boughs, casting patterns on the ground like celestial runes.
“The bond you share is no accident. The roots of fate grow deep, intertwining even the unlikeliest of companions. But beware.” The branches creaked as they shifted. “The forest does not fear the fire until it is too late.”
It was not a warning. Not a threat.
Just the truth.
For the moment Archimedes was forgotten, in the wake of something that was truly so much more enchanting. A cruelty for the demon, probably, to be so dismissive without truly meaning to. If she were thinking at all, she might have an explanation akin to the fact that she’d never in her life been able to reach out and actually make contact with these things that were so strongly a part of herself. So of course she was going to be distracted!
Calia was definitely not thinking, though. This was all pure whim and instinct and wanting. Shameless in it too, as who could stop her.
Naturally smiling broadly when the tree decided she was worth speaking to. Leaning gently against it’s trunk to watch upwards at the glistening leaves.
“I could say I hold the end of his chain, but a binding does go both ways, doesn’t it.” she admitted with ease. It was how Calia felt as well, because it wasn’t just Arc now stuck in this agreement of theirs. Calia too had to take care with her side of things. To not use him up and drain him dry like an emptied waterskin. Not to go the way of being a real twat, to betray him and take his heart. Choices to make, every day, from now on.
Soon to find herself humming and then laughing when the tree gave her it’s wisdom.
“The forest does not fear the fire until it is too late,” she repeated the phrase. “That is true. And yet it’s also hard to know what you should be afraid of until you finally see it face to face. I have learned that myself as of late, that some things aren’t worth my fears and others I should take more care with.”
Calia did pause there with a furrow of her brow.
“Are you concerned I should be wary of him? Another convinced me to make this binding. Do you disagree with it? Or is it something else I should be fearing?”
The fae tree hummed, a deep, resonant sound could have vibrated through its trunk and into the air, carrying an ancient wisdom laced with something softer—curiosity, perhaps. Its leaves shimmered, catching light from no discernible source, each flicker a whisper of understanding.
“A binding does go both ways, little wanderer. A chain is never only held—it is also worn.”
The voice came as wind through boughs, as the shifting groan of roots below, as something deeper than language itself. The glowing lights that danced around that of the bioluminescent mushrooms appeared to pulse with the lingering through of the young tree, as though measuring her with every word.
“It is not for me to agree or disagree with your binding. Choice is the foundation of all things—what we take upon ourselves, what we offer, what we surrender.” A slow creak as one of its branches shifted as though a breeze had been presented, a cascade of luminous leaves framing her where she leaned against its trunk. “But what you should fear?”
The tree let the question settle in the air, as though letting the roots of it take hold. “Not the flame, nor the chain, nor the one who walks beside you.” A pause. The whisper of wind between its limbs. “Fear the moment you forget they are there.”
A chain held and worn, Calia couldn’t argue there. Giving only a wry shrug of her shoulders. Watching the glow of mushrooms with a mesmerized amount of interest. To slide down the trunk of tree in a crouch so she could reach out and gently tap the tops of them like little tiny drums.
“Choices, choices… that seems to be the game I’ve been unceremoniously thrust into,” complained the mountain princess. The other fae tree had been just as vague, so Calia really couldn’t expect anything more here either. Whatever stupid destiny she’d fallen into, whether it was Arc’s incredibly long ever evolving story, or her own fresh new tale, there was no telling. She could fight against it or she could go with the flow.
As long as she kept her true goal in mind, then Calia would figure it all out as she did. She couldn’t plan it, couldn’t control it. She just had to live her life and hope it got her to the right place.
“And what is that supposed to mean, oh beautiful gem of the wood?” she asked, full of cheeky youth and a smile to match it. “I should fear being so comfortable that it no longer feels like a chain? Because otherwise, it is always there. It’s in my blood now, in my empty chest. There’s no way to forget it’s there as it’s what is keeping me grounded to this world.”
The fae tree responded in a voice like rustling leaves and the slow groan of ancient wood bending in the wind.
“Ah, child of stone and sorrow, you speak of being grounded, yet the deepest roots still yearn for the sky. You fear losing the weight that keeps you here, but tell me—do you truly wish to be bound, or are you afraid of drifting too far?” Around them, the ancient redwood forest stretched high into the sky, its towering trunks bathed in the golden glow of bioluminescent fungi clinging to their bark. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and the whisper of unseen life moving between the roots and branches. “The wind carries the seed, but it does not forget the earth from which it came. You may reach, you may wander, you may even lose yourself for a time, but the heart always remembers its soil.”
Delicate, silver-leafed vines draped between the colossal trees like the weaving of some forgotten fae artisan, catching the dim light in shimmering threads. High above, platforms of carved wood and woven ivy nestled against the great trunks, the homes of the fae hidden within the embrace of the canopy. The faint sound of distant chimes and rustling leaves carried on the breeze, a song as old as the forest itself. “You are here because you choose to be, whether you see it or not. Not all who wander are lost, and not all who stay are truly still. The question is not what keeps you in this world, but what calls you to it.”
“I don’t wish to drift away,” admitted Calia with another shrug. This was no grand revelation to herself, the princess wanted to live, to exist. To be whole again with her heart and magic. The binding and the shared magic was just enough to keep her feeling like she wasn’t an empty shell, liable to wither into dust until there was nothing left of her. And if it had just been her body that was being lost, Calia would not have cared so much, but it was the way her own mind had tried to twist and warp that was actually frightening. Being so desperate and out of control had been bad for her and everyone around her.
It was difficult to believe that this obvious thing was what the faerie tree was trying to say. Calia was too young and too headstrong to understand the deeper meaning, maybe, but as she reached up for one of the lower branches to attempt herself a nice little climb, it did have her wondering what this warning was meant for.
“That begs the question, do you mean the mortal world? Where naturally I still remain because I need to take back my own heart. Or do you mean the realm of faeries, that has been trying to call me back to it since before I even knew what I was searching for? It’s not so complicated, Auntie. I only want to be my entire self, and I am still in the process of finding out what that is.”
Naturally, she had to climb a little higher to get a closer look at this tiny little carved and woven things. All too curious to see if there were creatures making literal homes in the tree, because how amazing that would be! One upon a time, according to old legends even the elves themselves had built their homes inside, around, and high up in the branches of trees. Before they’d starting making glorious buildings of stone and plaster to last the expanse of their long lives.
The fae tree’s ancient voice echoed softly, a rich hum that seemed to resonate through the very air around them, deep and knowing. The bark beneath Calia’s fingers stirred with an old warmth, as if the tree itself was alive with a wisdom far older than any human could fathom.
“Ah, you speak of hearts and magic as if they are separate things,” the tree mused, its branches swaying gently despite the stillness of the air. Whether or not it was being purposefully ignoring the literal separation was unclear. “But you have yet to understand the dance they must do, how one cannot exist without the other.”
The forest around them was alive with the sound of leaves rustling, distant birdsong filtering through the canopy. Sunlight dappled through the thick foliage, casting long, intricate shadows upon the moss-covered earth. Everywhere, the trees stood like sentinels, their twisted roots reaching deep into the earth, intertwined with the very pulse of the land. The air felt charged with ancient magic, a subtle hum that whispered across the leaves, a melody older than the stars.
“You speak of being lost,” the fae tree continued, its voice tender but firm, “but that is only the beginning of a journey. You are not empty, nor a mere shell. You are the bridge between two worlds. But to be whole—truly whole—you must learn to dance with both. The mortal realm has shaped you, as it shapes all things, and yet the fae have called to you for reasons you do not yet understand. To ignore either is to sever apart of your soul.“
A slow, creaking sound echoed through the air as the tree’s branches shifted, bending down toward her. From high above, the faint glow of faerie lights flickered at the very tips of the branches, as if beckoning her to listen closely, to understand.
“To be ‘entire,’ as you put it, is not simply to take what you think you lack,” the tree whispered, its voice like wind through the leaves. “It is to become something greater than what you are now—a harmony of both the mortal and the eternal. You cannot stand with one foot in each world and not lose your balance, but you also cannot turn away from one without forsaking your soul.”
As Calia climbed higher, warmth of the tree’s magic pulse beneath her fingers, a gentle reassurance as if it were guiding her, even in her own uncertainty. The fae tree’s final words lingered like a soft breeze through the branches: “Only when you find the balance, child, will you understand what it means to be whole.”
Calia felt as if she already knew her heart and magic were one thing and not separate, considering the way it was stolen from her! But suspected the point the tree was trying to make was flying over her head somewhere. She nestled into a crook of the branch to rest back against the tree trunk. Frowning to herself mostly, even as she soaked in this mystical stew of magic that made the air thick and her skin tingle.
Why did everyone always feel the need to advise her! Did she really seem like such a clueless, bumbling soul that every elder felt the need to drown her in fresh wisdoms. Calia found it difficult to be mad about it, though. Her frustration was more in that she didn’t quite get the point, not that people and even otherworldly beings felt the need to guide her. So she listened, even with that frown and faint frustration.
Balance made perfect logical sense. Balance was required in all things and it was an instinct as natural to her as anything else. Still… thinking about it was purely exhausting. Chasing after her heart was exhausting. Having to be better than just a wild biting gremlin was exhausting. Doing the right thing for everyone. Self discovery on two planes. Just trying to exist, oh so exhausting.
This was meant to help her and all it was succeeding in doing was threatening a well of tears and making Calia want to lay down and take a nap so she didn’t have to think at all.
“And what if I decided I don’t really care anymore? That all of this is too much trouble and not worth the time and struggle at all.”
“Child, I hear your words,” the tree spoke, its tone steady, yet filled with a quiet sorrow, “but to give up would be to cast aside the very essence of the world you are part of.” The branches creaked and swayed as if contemplating the weight of her struggle, their shadows dancing across the forest floor like fleeting thoughts. “The weight of life is heavy, yes. It is never meant to be easy, and no path is free of burdens. But to stop… to turn away from it all… that would be to sever yourself from the very magic that makes you whole.”
The air around her seemed to thrum, the earth beneath her feet alive with the energy of centuries. “You see, child, there are moments when the world presses upon you so fiercely that the only thing you can do is close your eyes and rest. But in your rest, you must also allow the earth to heal you, to remind you that you are rooted here. Even when you feel lost, the roots of the world stretch deep beneath you, offering support and stability, even when it feels like everything else is in turmoil.”
The tree’s voice lowered, almost a whisper now, but filled with a comforting warmth. “To give up is to forget the power you hold within yourself. You are not meant to be adrift, nor to be swept away by the storms of doubt and despair. You are made to grow, even when the rain falls too hard. Even when you are not sure of what comes next. You are part of the cycle, child, and that is a magic that does not fade.”
The breeze picked up, as if to gently brushing against her skin, as if coaxing her to listen, to believe in the truth she might be too weary to see. “So, if you must, rest. But know that the world will not forget you, and neither will I. You are not alone in this. You are never alone.”
Calia fell into a contemplative silence. Having a deep appreciation that the tree was trying it’s absolute best with her, only to have it fall on someone so unworthy of all this care. Destiny or fate, or whatever the hell had placed it’s bets on her was truly going to bankrupt itself with her failures. They should have chosen someone with limitless enthusiasm for life. A person of strong convictions, purity of soul. Someone that had a true hero’s heart.
Instead there was Calia. Where she might know right from wrong with a violent intention, she also didn’t really believe in much of anything. Whatever hope that lived in others did not seem to reside in her. Almost feeling as if it were a burden itself to know the hopes of others rested on her in ways that were so far beyond her own comprehension.
Having the itching wish that she could just forget all that she was instead. Allow herself the chance to live, since her own stupid self was so desperate to keep doing so. Only in a way where she could escape her past, present and future. To be blissfully ignorant of her role in the world.
Calia stayed there in her disquiet for a long while. Reluctantly accepting this means of comfort from an old tree and her gentle sways. To at least pretend for a bit that she might just stay right there and let everything else go. Knowing in the end that she wouldn’t be content in doing so. Despite how she felt, Calia wasn’t quite ready to give up just yet. There were still things she wanted to do, beyond her responsibilities and expectations.
Letting out a heavy sigh, she finally jumped down from her perch in the sparkling tree back to the soft earth.
“I guess I better go collect my demon, then, and get back to living. Be well and safe, Auntie.”
“You are about to leave, and though I cannot walk beside you, my roots are ever tethered to your journey.” The words, soft but profound, seemed to hang in the air, as if the tree were trying to impart a final, timeless truth. “The world ahead is vast, and it will challenge you in ways you cannot yet know. But do not fear, for you carry within you the same strength that flows through my roots. The same magic that courses through these leaves flows in your veins.”
A gentle rustle filled the space, and the tree’s branches spanned over top as if trying to reach toward Calia, almost as if wanting to hold her one last time. “Remember, little one, even when you feel lost, you are never truly alone. The forest will always listen, and the earth will always guide you, no matter how far you may roam. And when the weight of your path becomes too much, know that you can always return to these roots. We shall always be here, waiting.”
The fae tree had been certainly far more chatty in the ways of articulating thoughts. Though wreathed in the old tongue and not so broad answers that settled into a some sense of mental obscurity. Leaving it necessary for the girl to figure out rather than the obvious reply given.