Deserted Wanderlust Inn

Lower District of the Seeking, Fifth Ring.

Annabelle looked back at the room she had seen entirely too much of. Spending weeks within, she ached to get back on her feet again. Another one of her and Tharia’s contracts of silence concerned the smell in the room. Being nursed back to health didn’t leave the best of scents. She tried to ignore it and so did her nose as well as Tharia's. Annabelle once more checked her fingers. She wriggled them, yet all that was left of her grievous injuries was some prickling.

“Remarkable healing”

“Hhhiif pfaanan mhhhhippff what’s not hgmmphg gone”, Tharia replied. The small girl had stuffed her face with bread and tried to get some semblance of a sentence out. Annabelle noticed just how much her fairy had changed. It wasn’t just the clothes either. Although Tharia’s sleeveless shirt showed off the beginning muscle definition on her skinny arms. The main difference came with confidence. She wore the half-skirt – Tharia lovingly called it a butt-cape - as if it was an extension of her. It was really rather alluring and distracting. When her friend suddenly poked her, she had finished eating her bread and gave her a knowing grin.

“The spark can heal what isn’t gone”, the human girl repeated her earlier attempt at communication. She put on a black vest to cover her arms. Part of that was owed to the weather outside. It had finally let off a bit, but the clouds looked like they’d be back with a vengeance.

“That’s why your back can’t heal?”

“Yep. Only thing I can do is let it heal constantly –but it will also break constantly. That reminds me, I got something for you”

The abrupt segue made it clear the short-haired girl wasn’t all that interested in talking about her chronical pain. She watched Tharia stuff the rest of the bread into her mouth. The small woman then went and got something from the back of the room. Once her eyes met with the object in her hands, Annabelle’s mood soured instantly. Wherever could her fairy have picked up that abomination?

“You need something to wear”, Tharia said and held out a fluffy and puffy ballgown.

“No”

It wasn’t just a simple word. Therein lay an entire system of belief that started with: Thou shall not wear ludicrous clothes and ended with, not even once. Even gods had to believe in something and hers was centered around an abject hatred of the fluffy inclination.

“Of course you should. While I appreciate the way you look, its cold outside”, Tharia intentionally misunderstood with a mischievous grin. Annabelle groaned and brought her hand to her face.

“No dresses”, she declared categorically. Tharia’s laughter told her she had been the butt of a playful tease. The ballgown was quickly tossed aside to make way for a practical two-piece combination with weaved in abstract motifs. On top of it sat a small pouch. Annabelle wrapped her fingers around the pouch and fished out a golden gem. The strange mineral felt warm to the touch. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her friend fidget in place. Its warmth was mesmerizing and it was something more. There was a strange allure coming from inside the gem. Just on impulse, Annabelle brought the gem up to her mouth and swallowed it whole. Tharia opened her eyes wide in response.

“Have you gone nuts?”

At that moment, a subtle glow ran over Annabelle’s skin. She felt it permeate her entire body from head to toe. Every time she breathed, it increased in intensity until golden floral patterns radiated away from her body. She saw the image of her friend Eleanor in her mind’s eye and then felt a gentle warmth in her belly when a tiny speck of energy settled inside

“It’s Eleanor”, Annabelle remarked and watched as the radiant patterns slowly disappeared from her skin.

“You can tell?”

“Divine Energy – but changed”

Annabelle saw Tharia rush over and then felt her hands on her arms. She really had gotten noticeably stronger. The half-skirt fluttered with the motion. Her friend looked up at her with narrowed eyebrows.

“How did you do that?”

“Uh?”

Instead of an answer, Tharia reached out and gently gathered some of Annabelle’s silvery hair strands. Except that they had turned pitch black – yet were fading back to silver already.

“Can you turn them copper-red? Like rusted metal? I love that color. Once in autumn, one of my far-off relatives visited and that hair is perhaps the best thing to come out of my family tree. If, perhaps you could uhm no don’t do that. But...”

“Tharia”

“... maybe we should head out soon. You are well, are you not? Maybe get you dressed and uh. Something to weather the rain. You mentioned you can feel where they are? How come you couldn’t feel your friend? But you can feel something else?”

“Tharia!”, she interjected with a stern tone.

“I... okay?”

Annabelle sighed. She had no idea what had set her friend off again. Sometimes a random tangent was all it took. The bubbly and ever so slightly unhinged girl claimed it to be nervous habits but she didn’t seem nervous now.

“First, you’re the best thing to come out of that family. Second, I can feel part of my essence near the fourth ring”

Once the sentence was out, she noticed another change. At some point after the awkward half-rejection, she had gotten used to talking more than she did before. That was a weird thought to have. She pushed it aside and concentrated on getting ready.

Path to monetary enlightenment

Upper District of the Seeking, Fifth Ring.

Ready wasn’t the right word for this. She hadn’t been so out of breath in a long time. Something as simple as the winding staircase leading to the temple bridge had stolen her stamina away.

“408... 409...”, Tharia said and grinned, “They call these the 500 steps of enlightenment. As you make your way up, hundreds of beggars lighten your purses. Once you reach the end, you’d be poor as well and simply join their ranks. Some sort of symbolism I never got”

At some point on their long way up, she had come to hate this so-called staircase. It wasn’t even all that high, just a random blotch of a staircase winding up to a slightly raised hill. The steps were just needlessly flat and drawn out. She quietly cursed the architect even when they finally reached the platform above. Tharia balanced on her heels as if nothing could bother her.

“507. So either the builder lied or I miscounted. Oh well, let’s go again, shall we”

“Fairy!”

“Well, leaving spontaneous murder of innocent girls aside. We’re up. Quite the view. Gods be cursed, this city is one ugly pile of rubble. Who builds an entire capital to look as dreary and ominous as possible? Oh, what! Hey Annie, you seeing this?”

Tharia gently nudged her shoulder. Right now, she wasn’t seeing anything. Her heart was quite busy getting everything back under control. When she finally looked up, she saw the girl point at the faraway fortress wall. The fifth ring had a golden sheen to it and upon closer examination, thousands upon thousands of plants had somehow climbed up the fortifications. She recognized the parasitic wheat from the fields outside the city.

“I’ve heard of nature reclaiming human spaces, but this is rather expeditious, don’t you think?” Tharia said with a grim expression, “Let’s go. We’ve got a hybrid that’s been shambling over here for a while. You first?”

Annabelle nodded and turned around. The hybrid was a rather sorry sight. Its legs had grown out of proportion into those of an animal she had never seen before. The rest of the body was a disgusting sight too. It was simply unfinished. Whatever had happened to it, didn’t quite make it through to the end. Still, this was it – the first proper fight after her struggle weeks ago.

Her eyes quickly examined her opponent. It had thick trunks instead of proper legs - slow but perhaps strong. The neck was protected by several layers of flesh – no decapitation. The head still looked human, at least on one side of it. She would need to make good use of range to get to the head. Her body moved with a satisfying speed, yet her stamina already started to show its limit. No other way to get back into it but persevere.

With her right hand stretched to the side, she called for her weapon. A golden light formed in her palm but then suddenly got stuck before it took shape. Her mind felt something different from the usual Scythe. That moment’s hesitation was enough. The light rapidly expanded into two ludicrously heavy hand-fans with a rope at their end. What the? She was too close already. Instinctively, she tossed one of the fans to her left hand and then moved her grip from the handle down to the rope.

Twisting her right wrist in circular motions, the fan quickly rotated along. She changed posture, moved one foot forward and let the heavy weight carry the fan forward. The blunt edge bit forward like a snake and smacked into the skull of the hybrid. It barely penetrated the skull, although the creature groaned and swayed. Its stubby arms were unable to do anything to her, it really was pitiful.

She took a step back and then pulled in the rope of the left fan until she felt the handle in her palm. With but a simple push at the right spot, the fan opened up. The ribs themselves were made of wood, but the actual fan was sharp metal. She once more gave it a bit of rope and then started to rotate her left wrist. This time, the weapon sang with a curious high pitched tone. Again, like before, she changed her posture, regained a decent balance and then suddenly let go of the fan at the apex of its rotation. It shot forwards and cut straight through the hybrid’s skull. The creature died instantly and Annabelle finally slowed down. Her stamina was in a bad state, but it had worked well enough for now. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed her hair had remained silver this time. She brought the weapons back to her hands. Her fingers brushed over the wooden ribs. There was more to this weapon. It felt like it had a mind of its own.

“You can summon Turesai war-fans?” Tharia had made her way next to her. She bounced with glee and snatched one of the weapons from her hands. The second she tried to open it, a golden light snatched it out of her hand.

“Doesn’t like me much. The Turesai love these though. Did you know they never quite liked calling you gods? It was something about how your folks just stumbled into power. Have you ever tasted Hramptcha? The sweetest drink ever made. They have this ritual for drinking it because it’s much too sweet to drink in one go”

Annabelle resigned herself to her fate. There she went again. One step ahead of her, stumbling because her lower half wasn’t all in control but stubbornly telling her about Turesai culture in details she didn’t quite care for. She quietly observed her friend while they made their way along the Temple-Bridge. Tharia had always been locked up in her estate, yet she talked of these things as if she knew them by heart.

A while in, Annabelle was sure she had heard all about their culture, yet it was an hour before Tharia finally changed the topic. It was then when her friend turned around and suddenly ran towards the Balustrade.

“I’ve noticed for a while, but it’s insanity down there. It’s one thing to sneak past hordes of monsters but seeing it from above really drives home just how broken everything is. There’s barely anything human left, just mindless beasts on a rampage. That said we should be seeing the other bridges soon. Have you ever been on the Star of Guidance before?”

Star of Guidance was the name for the many-armed bridge construction atop of the fifth ring. The Temple Bridge was in fact a series of bridges all closing in on a central platform. It was an alternate way through the fifth ring that skipped much of the streets below in favor of walking amidst various religious displays. Annabelle finally groaned. Those were memories she didn’t want out in the open, so it had taken her a while to answer.

“During my marriage ceremony”, she replied curtly.

Tharia pressed a finger against her lips and simply went, “Oh”.

It didn’t last long. Two short breaths later, she simply continued her verbal stream of consciousness.

“You know, have you ever wondered why they wanted you dead? Look at the damage, that’s not just vandalism but serious hatred”

Tharia pointed towards some of the pillars to either side of the bridge. Not too long ago, they had been adorned by divine idols. She recognized the feathered mask of the Autumn Lord and the curvaceous figure of Spring’s Envoy. The latter was curiously undamaged, safe for the head.

Had she ever asked herself why it all happened? There was little else she thought about in those hours before she met Tharia again.

“Cathrion, no... the King said it was to start a new Era. He was obsessed with the idea that your kind was dying because our miracles gave you everything you needed”

She found Tharia suddenly walk next to her. The small girl wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled herself close until Annabelle felt her warmth.

“Sorry for asking. I can be a bit of a jackass at times. Still, there’s some truth to that argument. It makes you feel like a child when everything is taken care of for you. You kept us safe but also stagnant”

“I didn’t know you thought that way too”

Tharia shook her head and continued, “I’m not sure what I think, Annie. After the incident, I was in a bad place. Those outside my family meant well but they thought because I couldn’t walk properly, I would obviously be slow in the head too. So they spoke very slowly to me and spoonfed me, they read me children’s stories when I was a grown woman”

The gloom and doom had taken a toll on their mood. They quietly walked along the deserted Temple Bridge. Sounds of battle came from beneath them, sometimes a house would vanish in a cloud of debris, at other times the sounds were too hard to ignore. Imagination could be a curse at times. For that reason, they didn’t notice it at first. Only when it grew more intense than everything else, did the loud screams for help get through.

Annabelle squinted her eyes and saw a humanoid figure clad in plate-armor. The figure stood over something on the ground. She gave Tharia a quick look and upon her nod, they both rushed forwards. The scythe appeared in a flash of golden light.

“Help me”, the voice of a woman screamed from underneath the figure. Annabelle dashed forward. Up close it was obvious the figure was a man. He had short blond hair, although dirt had stained it. The helmet was strangely absent. He looked up at Annabelle, just as she hooked the weapon around his chest and yanked him back. A loud groan came from him, yet her weapon couldn’t penetrate the armor. Still, the man was off balance now. Golden light poured into the form of a war-fan in her left hand, she gave it a bit of rope and then essentially used it as a morning star. She had aimed for his head, but the man deflected it in the last second by bringing up his gauntlet. The combined momentum of being pulled and then smashed, made him fall to the ground. Annabelle pinned the stranger to the ground by pressing her scythe down and then knelt down for a quick smash over the head with the war-fan.

Tharia suddenly screamed stop. At this point, adrenaline pulsed through her veins. She barely stopped just before she hit the man. She then opened up the war-fan and allowed the sharp edge of it to rest next to the unprotected neck. He really should have worn a helmet. The markings on his plate-armor bore the symbol of the Rose Order, but this was no elite warrior. It was now that she got a closer look. The man underneath her looked like a boy at most. He was obviously scared of the silver-haired fury that kept him locked on the ground.

“Help... me”, the voice of the woman screamed. Annabelle turned around and saw what had caused it. The woman wasn’t a woman at all. Pale blue skin marked him as one of the Skypeople. He was also thoroughly dead and had been for a pretty long time.

“Don’t kill me, Francis. I love you”, the figure said. Yet it wasn’t the dead person the sound came from. Instead, it originated in a white shawl slung around his neck. Tharia had closed in on it and was about to touch the shawl when the boy started shouting.

“Don’t touch it, it will kill you”

Tharia stopped and took a step back. The white ‘cloth’ suddenly shivered and in an odd display suddenly snaked its way around the neck. A singular eye opened up within. It first looked at Tharia, then at Annabelle.

“Help me”, the shawl spoke with a tiny human-shaped mouth right atop a massive maw with long teeth. It unwinded itself from the neck until it spread to its full length. All in all, it was almost two meters wide but barely a finger thick. The singular eye kept its eye on Annabelle.

“I love you, Francis. Please”, the mouth said with the voice of a woman unknown. The beast suddenly fluttered and then took flight.

“Oh mother’s great fornication cabinet of horrors, that’s just wrong”, Tharia cursed and let her long axe slide to the ground. Annabelle watched the shawl creature disappear into the clouds above. All the time, the eye had focussed on her and her alone. A cough underneath her brought her mind back to the present.

“Sorry about that”, Annabelle remarked. She let go of her weapons and they instantly disappeared into tiny flakes of golden light. When she got back up, she felt a sudden hand on her wrist. Tear, Thrash, smash. Instinct kicked in and made her wrap his hand in return. She then quickly raised up her other hand and jabbed it straight into his throat. Red fog clouded all judgment while she kept up her assault.

“Annie!”

And another hit and another.

“I’m going to knock you out, damn it”

One more and then one more. Hammer, clobber, puncture. She wriggled her fingers and slammed down yet again. Something soft but heavy suddenly hit the back of her head and instantly shook off the rage. She noticed Tharia’s leather bag to her side. Her vision was blurry and the knuckles hurt something wicked. She looked down onto a subtle blue glow and tiny flames flickering over a bloodied hand. Just in the nick of time, she noticed it was Tharia’s and pulled her fist away before she could hit it. The hand covered the neck of the unconscious knight. Healing energy poured down and finally restored breathing to the man. Annabelle looked at Tharia’s pained face. It’d be nice to kiss those lips now. She wanted to tear off those clothes and do so much more.

“Will you please stop? What’s wrong with you?” her friend asked with a panicked voice. Annabelle looked down. She had almost killed someone. Again. She fell back onto the ground and buried her face in her hands. What, indeed, was wrong with her? No matter how much she hid her face from view, she knew her friend was watching with concern.

End: Last Knight of the Rose | Coming up: Tales of the Dreamreaper