Chapter 325: Unalla

Stryg didn’t like the infirmary. It was bad enough that the pungent scents of potions and ointments filled his nostrils. The small room with four grey walls held no warmth. The whole place felt unnatural. However, it was the state of the people that truly made him wish he was anywhere but here.

Feli wrapped her arms around Stryg’s neck and hugged him tightly.

“What were you thinking, you idiot!” she cried. “Why did you try to fight that woman and her magic sword head-on! You saw what happened to the others! You could have died!”

“Ow, ow, ow, ow!” Stryg winced. His whole body ached from his bloody scrapes, broken bones, and bruised muscles. Feli’s increasingly tightening arms only made the injuries more painful. Still, as he heard her shaky breaths and felt her shoulders tremble, he couldn’t find the strength to push her away.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her ear.

Ismene walked into the room, a healer dressed in blue robes stood behind her. A silver amulet hung around his neck, a diamond embedded at the very center, the symbol of a white mage.

Ismene took one glance at the hugging couple and lightly tapped her cane into the ground, “Alright, Miss Feli, you can chastise your stubborn husband later. Let the healer do his work.”

Feli sniffed, wiped her tears, and reluctantly stepped away, though she stayed close by.

The healer was an elderly drow, the lines of age clear on his forehead and the edges of his blue eyes. He bowed his head, “My Aspirant, if you’d be so kind as to remove your shirt?”

Stryg glanced down at his shirt, or what was left of it. The white tunic had been left in tatters and was mostly covered in dried blood. He raised his forefinger and used the claw to easily rip through the last few seams. The tattered tunic fell off without much effort.

“I suppose that works,” the white mage smiled, “Now then, shall we begin?” White mana flowed into his hands and a soft pale glow enveloped his fingertips.

“Stryg, that was a bold plan you had back there,” Ismene said in a calm, but serious voice. “Your durability scales barely held against Nalla’s final attack. You have a tougher body than anyone I know, but even then, if your yellow magic had been a sliver weaker you wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”

Stryg sighed, “I know, but—”

“—You seemed to have suffered numerous lacerations, especially over the right side of your abdomen,” the healer noted as he ran the healing magic over Stryg’s skin, “Seven ribs seem to be broken as well. I’m surprised none of them punctured a lung.”

“Like master Ismene said, I have a tough body,” Stryg shrugged, and instantly regretted the quick motion. Pain shot up his back and shoulders.

“Try not to move too much,” the healer said sympathetically.

“Yup… I’m aware,” Stryg said through clenched teeth.

“Hold on,” the healer paused, “Your lacerations… the flesh has seemed to have already begun… to heal? Did someone already cast healing magic over you?”

“Nope,” Stryg said.

“Healing spells only quicken the body’s natural processes, we cannot regenerate actual wounds,” the healer said sternly. “We can only do so much. Your body can only handle so much. If someone has already cast healing spells over you, I cannot continue for risk of putting your recovery in danger.”

“It’s fine. I haven’t seen any other healers. My body just recovers faster than most,” Stryg admitted.

The healer stepped back and looked over Stryg as if he was seeing a legend come to life in front of his very eyes, “I wasn’t aware… U-uh, forgive me, the powers of an Ebon Aspirant are still very new to me.”

Stryg was pretty certain his healing abilities had nothing to do with his prime chromatic magic, but rather his hybrid mutations, though he decided to simply nod and say nothing. He quite liked the look of awe in the old drow’s eyes.

Ismene did not. “You cannot always rely on your healing, child,” she frowned. “Someday it may not be enough.”

Stryg sighed, “...I know, but I thought the Standstill Curse was the best way to prevent Unalla from using that sword of hers. In the end, it worked, but I think if I had—”

“—What did you say…?” Ismene furrowed her brow.

“Hm? I used the Standstill Curse?”

“No, what did you call her? Your opponent.”

“Unalla?”

“The tourney records state her name is Nalla.”

“Yeah, well, she told me her name was Unalla. That and she’s a Noir,” Stryg added.

Ismene dropped her cane, “What…” She grabbed Stryg by the shoulders and shook him, “What exactly did she tell you!?”

“Lady Ismene!” Feli yelled panickedly.

Stryg groaned in pain, “She said her name was Unalla, daughter of Una Noir! Now stop shaking me, you’re opening my wounds, dammit!’

Ismene stumbled back, her breathing short and her beige eyes wide in shock, “Una… she’s alive…?!”

“What? Did you try to kill her or something?” Stryg asked.

His words flew right past Ismene. The old woman picked up her cane and rushed out of the room as quickly as she could muster.

~~~

A hard impatient knock smacked into the door three times and then another four and then another five—

“Agh, I’m trying to sleep here, Lynn!” Unalla shouted from her bed. “I told you I wanted to be left alone!”

The doorknob turned with a click and the iron hinges creaked as the door slowly opened. Ismene stood in the doorway, leaning on her cane breathlessly. She swallowed hard and bowed her head, “I am sorry to disturb.”

Unalla stared at the old human warily. She tried her best to sit up, but a sharp pain shot up through her injured shoulders and she collapsed back into the bed.

“Please! Don’t push yourself!” Ismene said worriedly.

“Why? What do you care?” Unalla snarled, though try as she might her voice held no sting. The pain etched across her face was evident.

Ismene fidgeted with her wrinkled hands, “I really am sorry to bother you, it’s just… Do you know who I am?”

“You’re one of Stryg’s masters, right? The Tempest Archmage,” Unalla said carefully. “If you’re here to try and threaten me, it won’t work.”

“Why would I—?” Ismene shook her head, “Never mind. Stryg… he… he told me about you. About your true name.”

“...I see,” she narrowed her icy blue eyes. “You’re a professor at Hollow Shade’s magic academy. So that means you work for Lord Noir. Is that it? Are you here to kill me on his orders?”

“What? No! I’d never harm you! And neither would he!” Ismene said indignantly.

Unalla glanced at her then the window.

Ismene sighed, “If you wish to run, I will not stop you, though I don’t think you can even manage to stand. Either way, I really did not come here to harm you, child.”

“...Then what do you want?” she asked cautiously.

“You look like her,” Ismene smiled weakly. “I wasn’t paying attention before, but it's clear as day now. You really are Una’s daughter.”

“You know my mother?” her eyes widened.

“Know? She’s alive then!? Oh thank Stjerne!” Ismene cried out in relief.

“You… Do you… actually know my mother?” Unalla said skeptically.

“Know her?” Ismene wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and laughed. “I used to carry Una on my back because she was too small to reach the mulberries in the orchard behind your family’s manor. She used to stuff herself with berries until her hands and cheeks were stained purple.”

Ismene smiled and stepped closer to the bed, “Then Una would say she was too full to even move. So she’d lie down on the grass and I’d sing her a lullaby in the late afternoon until she’d fall asleep.”

“...How old was she?” Unalla whispered with wide, curious eyes.

“Una was 9. She was a small little thing, but she was full of so much life,” Ismene chuckled reminiscently.

“...I think she told me about you,” Unalla muttered. “Never by name, but she told me of a human who was like a big sister to her. A woman who was always there for my mom…”

“We were this close, Una and I,” Ismene nodded and clasped her hands together, “I was lucky enough to see her grow up into a splendid and brave young woman, before she disappeared….”

“My mom also told me…” Unalla’s voice grew cold, “That ‘big sister’ was lovers with my uncle, Elzri Noir, the kinslayer.”

“It’s true,” she admitted. “I was going to marry your uncle, back when things seemed so simple. But after Esletha and Aiden…”

“Died. They died. Murdered by my uncle, their brother, your lover,” Unalla sneered.

Ismene sighed and sat down next to the bed, “I remember that day, I could never forget. I was sitting next to your mother when it happened. I remember the screams of horror from the crowd. I couldn’t believe it was real… I turned to your mother, but she was gone. I searched the whole city, but no one could find her. She had disappeared.”

“Because my uncle would have killed her! He wanted to be the undisputable heir of House Noir!”

“No, though back then I thought that as well. The truth is more complicated… Elzri never wanted the Noir throne,” Ismene shook her head softly. “Elzri has made mistakes, mistakes that have cost him everything. Time and grief have left him a shadow of his former self, but he is not the monster you think him to be.”

“Then what is he? Huh!? A psychopath who would just kill his siblings for the fun of it!?” she screamed.

“He is a man who loved Una more than anyone else in the world,” Ismene smiled sadly.

The young drow’s expression froze, stunned, “What?”

“Una is Elzri’s only full-blooded sibling. She meant everything to him. He would have killed anyone who would have tried to harm her, even his own brother.”

Unalla’s face paled, “You’re saying… uncle Aiden tried to kill my mother?”

“Who do you think poisoned your grandfather?”

She bit her lip, “If… If that’s true, then why did Elzri kill aunt Esletha too!”

“As I said, Elzri has made mistakes, mistakes that cost him everything. He never meant to kill Esletha and that mistake has haunted him his entire life.”

Unalla licked her lips uncertainly, “Why tell me this, hm? I’ve never heard this story before. What makes you think I’d believe it?”

“I can’t change what you believe. I can only tell you what I know. It took your uncle 24 years to finally open up and tell me what really happened that day. I don’t think he’d ever find the courage to tell anyone ever again. So I thought it'd be best if I told you instead.”

“Is that why you came? To try and clear his name?”

“No, I came to see you, to know that you were alright, and to let you know that you and your mother are not alone. It has been 56 years since I’ve seen Una, but she is still my friend and I miss her dearly. Please, when you see her, tell her that.”

Ismene leaned on her cane, pushed herself to her feet, and hobbled towards the door.

“You said it took Elzri 24 years to tell you the truth of uncle Aiden and aunt Esletha!” Unalla called out.

“That’s correct.”

“Why did it take him so long to tell you the truth?”

“Elzri has always been a person who believes he must carry the burdens of his family alone. I suspect that has to do with it, though I am not certain.” Ismene shrugged, “I may not know why it took him so long, but I do know why he told me.”

“And why was that?”

Ismene smiled, “It was because Elohnoir was born that day.”