#just mankhad things

[anchor-management]

C&F: Corruption Arc

Featuring: @sea-and-storm [Ghoa Mankhad], @shaelstormchild [Shael Stormchild], @anchor-management [Anchor Saltborn] and [Brick], @afreesworn [Nabi Kharlu] and [Roen Deneith], @sentryandco [Egil Nylor] and [Estrid Nylor] + ∞ NPCs, @tribblesfuriousart [Buoy Saltborn] [Diya-something-or-other], @banquoviaquo [Gideon North], [Orfeuille], [Luri Kai].

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- - - - -

The group's search for answers has taken them from The Far East, to the shores of Vylbrand. Their continued research into corrupted aether leads them to investigate a reclusive "Doctor Nylor", a name given by an ailing man--Abner Funk--that had a curious and yet similar sickness as Anchor during a visit to The Salt Strand.

Things quickly go wrong when the group splits to investigate the lead on two different fronts: Nabi and Ghoa devise a plan to infiltrate a theatre posing as entertainers, while Anchor and Shael travel to Upper La Noscea to follow a lead concerning the doctor's apparent employment of ailing individuals.

Separated and without contact due to a number of troubling circumstances, multiple plans fall into action over the course of the following days--with the help of some allies and friends in the midst--all eventually converging on Doctor Nylor's residence.

Of course, no amount of planning could prepare them for what surprises lay in wait...

- - - - -

- - - - -

Some closer-ups.

This pic took entirely too long to do. That is all.

Oh, just that and the fact I appreciate the people involved in this ongoing story of stories. It's been years actual years and that is pretty cool.

[paintedscales]

013. Mankhad

The first migration that Nomin has seen during her time with the Sagahl leads her to the Bay of Yanxia. What was a fun outing with the other Sagahli children turns into something of a scare as a creature bursts from the waters and threatens hers and the other childrens' lives.

Word Count: 2,974

Steppe by Steppe Chapter List

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The time of migration had come and passed, and Nomin had the chance to go out of her way to meet some more of the Sagahli children. All the tribespeople were accounted for, and so the migration was cleared to go on ahead. Nomin had met five other children that were around her age, give or take -- three boys and two girls. There were a couple babes in the tribe as well, though Nomin only watched as they were swaddled and carried upon the backs of their parents.

For the most part, the other children had been nice to Nomin, one of them even thinking that her blue colouration of scales was cool because it meant that she was just like Bayarmaa. Of course, this made Nomin swell with a sense of pride -- for she also thought Bayarmaa sweet and amazing in her various ways of knowledge and how she carried herself more times than not.

Of the children, there was Jajiradai -- a boy of fourteen summers, and his height was telling. He towered over most of the other children, though he did not come close to standing at the same height, yet, as someone like Esenaij. He had a younger brother who had not entered into his growth spurt -- Odchigen, a boy who was as many summers as Nomin, and seemed to hold his brother in high regard.

Then there was Chotan, a girl of twelve summers. She liked flowers, and often wore those that she had preserved herself in her hair, or on her person. Apparently her parents had taught her how to preserve flowers that they may be worn, and even traded to those who were interested in Xaelic crafts when trading in Reunion.

Checheyigen -- who requested that others simply call her ‘Che’ -- happened to have been another girl of ten summers. She was often quiet, though liked collecting rocks in addition to whatever it was that her family had gone out to collect. Nomin had been impressed by the amount of rocks that she had within her collection -- more so by the crystals and precious stones that she had found.

Lastly, there was the youngest who was not still a babe; a boy by the name of Khulan. He had seen only seven summers. Like Nomin, he had been learning how to write and read, though his inquisitive nature seemed on par with hers. The two of them often seemed to ask Bayarmaa, Esenaij, or other Sagahli members about stuff they wanted to know more about, often getting shooed away to bother someone else.

In the migration, Nomin had gotten to know these children relatively well, and enjoyed her time with them -- happy enough to even call them friends with how she was able to speak and interact with them, as well as mutually share different tidbits of each other, and share other things like food. After all, the migration had actually been relatively lengthy. Several days had passed before the Sagahl had finally settled on a grassy plain that bordered a beach belonging to what many referred to as the Bay of Yanxia.

Only when Nomin was a little more aware of her surroundings did she stare at the land in confusion. She approached Bayarmaa and asked her, “why does the Sagahl set their iloh here? I cannot make out too many fruits or vegetables that we might harvest right away.”

“We are here for a different plant, that we might dry it and use it for teas and medicines. When it grows, it does so in poor soil ,” Bayarmaa started in response. “This plant we’re looking for is called ‘silvery wormwood’, it is named as such for the milky, almost silver-like sap it produces. We dry this for use in medicines and teas, which is prized and valued among our coastal allies -- the Mankhad and the Haragin.”

“The Sagahl have many allies…” Nomin observed, thinking about how often the Sagahl were able to trade and meet with other tribes without hostilities.

“It benefits the other tribes that we are allowed to roam the steppe free of conflict. This is not to say that we could not fight if it came down to it… though I imagine Esenaij has already demonstrated as such when you went to the Dotharl Khaa with him. Likewise, it also does not mean we are not without enemies,” Bayarmaa said, bringing a finger to her chin. “Back to the topic, many other tribes rely on us Sagahl, as we are and always have been the masters of the bounties that grow from this land. If it were not for us, many tribes would go without food or medicine. This is where our knowledge and teachings benefit us the most, and it benefits the other tribes to leave us be as a result.”

“Who are our enemies?”

Bayarmaa’s mouth soon set into a frown. Placing her hands on her hips, she sighed, not exactly wanting to recall previous conflicts, though it was good for the girl to know. Thinking for a moment on the tribes who fit the description of ‘enemy’, Bayarmaa eventually replied with, “the Adarkim, Chaghan, Jhungid, and the Kharlu come to mind. The Three Giants have often tried to catch us unawares so that they might absorb our tribespeople into their numbers to make use of our skills and knowledge. As for the Chaghan… well… they are the ones who were exiled by the Qerel as Taken -- those who succumb to their Will of Karash. This makes them incredibly violent all in Nhaama’s name. Blasphemous, if you ask me.”

Using her fingers, Nomin counted the four tribes and looked back up at Bayarmaa. Still holding her fingers in their counted form, she said, “at least it’s a small list.”

“There are still those who may yet change their stance in how they see us. May we only see that our alliances hold strong,” Bayarmaa spoke, walking to one side of the ger and pulling out some twine from a sack. “Now… let’s go ahead and start getting some of the herbs we collected on our way here set for drying.”

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A moon had passed and Nomin had learned from Bayarmaa how to write her characters with ease, and was able to read more than a few select words and sentence structures. She was quite proud of herself and her accomplishments in that endeavor. Now, Nomin’s questions were more on what certain words meant and how to apply them in writing, or even in spoken word.

Bushels of silvery wormwood had been collected by various members of the tribe, as well as other plants that grew in the area. ‘Day grain’ was what the Sagahl called the yellow, round grains that they collected and often boiled for meals in the time while they were there. It was interesting, but not so different from rice. At least it was something to go with the cooked up vilekin that the Sagahl also hunted -- being so close to the coastline gave them plenty of opportunities to hunt for buzzflies.

With many of the chores and work done, there had been little for the Sagahl to do other than wait. Seeds had been planted for the next year, herbs and goods had been collected and separated into bags for trade and to keep…. All that was left to do was wait for the opportunity to trade with a couple of other tribes that would find themselves somewhere close by. It could have been the Mankhad, or it could have been Haragin… only time would tell.

Nomin and the other children had gone to the beachside to have some fun while under the watchful eye of Jajiradai, who had taken his bow and arrows with him in case anything were to happen. Though his younger brother, Odchigen, stood mimicking his brother and watching over the beach at first, he eventually relented and went to play in the ocean waters with the rest of the kids.

A little later in the day, and Chotan had grown rather bored of the waters and sands, meandering close enough by, though having been taken with some of the local flora that started to bloom now that spring was upon them. Of course, curious Nomin had chased after her to see the flowers for herself. They were a beautiful purple with some yellow striping stemming out from their pistils outward.

“These are really pretty! Do you know what they are, Chotan?” Nomin asked, starting to reach out for the flower, but stopping remembering Bayarmaa’s words that she should not touch flowers unless she intended to harvest them.

“These… these are baras iris,” Chotan replied, her voice soft and airy, as if she had just woken up. Nomin had grown used to the slow way that Chotan spoke, and exhibited her patience with a smile. After all, Chotan had shown Nomin so many pretty flowers of the steppe, and had even given her a few of the preserved ones she had so that Nomin could practice drawing them.

“I think… I’ll be taking these ones,” Chotan said, plucking two of the irises from their spots. “Yes… these ones will be perfect… for hairpins.”

“Do you think it’d look good on me?” Nomin asked, wondering if she could get a flower hairpin.

Chotan turned her attention toward Nomin, and she looked her up and down. She thought about it, reaching out and touching Nomin’s hair, holding a lock of it between her fingers. Chotan gave a gentle ‘hmm’ before letting go of the sky blue tress.

“... Yellow…” Chotan spoke.

“Huh?” Nomin gave a quizzical look.

“... Your hair… yellow flowers would really stand out,” Chotan elaborated.

“You think so? I thought white or red might look goo--” Nomin was cut off by Che and Khulan’s panicked shouts and yells from the water.

Odchigen could be heard calling for his brother, hurriedly announcing that a flying shark had surfaced and was coming right for them. Though, it seemed Jajiradai needed no attention called to the shark that was gliding through the air across the water. He had already taken up his bow and loosed a couple arrows toward the creature, both arrows hitting their mark, but not slowing down the wavekin at all.

“Back onto the sands! Quickly! Run toward the iloh!” Jajiradai urged, watching the kids run back. Nomin and Chotan could only comply, clumsily getting back up onto their feet as they ran over the sands.

Chotan only ran so far before she had tripped over her own feet; she had been trying to keep the baras irises safe as she fled, though to no avail. Nomin lingered back after her friend fell, running to her and helping her to her feet. She reached out for one of the irises that had fallen onto the sand that still looked alright, though the sound of Jajiradai yelling at them stopped her.

“Keep running to the iloh!”

The shout seemed too late. Even as Jajiradai loosed another arrow into the flying shark, it was fast approaching the two girls. Nomin had done her best to shield Chotan with her own body as the other girl quickly tried reorienting herself. Unbeknownst to the former Tumet, Chotan had dropped the flowers completely, ready to flee without distraction.

Just as the shark opened its maw to attack, it stiffened, falling from its hovering state and crashing into the sand. It rolled around a bit due to its momentum, stiff but still operating its gills. Jajiradai took this opportunity to run to the girls and scoop them up into his arms to bring them back to safety. However, his own curiosity set in when he put the girls down; walking back toward the wavekin, he sighed, noting his arrows being broken and unsalvageable. Though Jajiradai also noted something else of interest: a white, sharpened bone sticking out of the shark’s flesh.

Reaching out to it, a sharp whistle caught his and everyone else’s attention, halting Jajiradai in the process. Looking toward the sound, they saw a young man, perhaps only a little older than Jajiradai, waving to them from a top one of the sand dunes of the beach. Once he had their attention, he started jogging toward them.

“Don’t touch that dart!” the boy called out before anything else. “It is laced with potent dagina fish poison. If you touch it, you may become paralyzed.”

Jajiradai lowered his hand from attempting to observe the bone dart further and put his bow away on his person. He stayed silent for the time being, perhaps a little upset that someone else had stolen the honor of protecting the Sagahli children from him. However, he spoke no ill, and simply bowed courteously to the new boy.

“None of you are hurt, are you?” the boy asked, concern apparent on his face. “My tribespeople traveled this way for migration. I was visiting the beach to see if I might find some shells for my mother to craft with.”

Nomin was busy making sure Chotan was okay, helping her brush off sand from her clothes and body. It seemed both of them were a little sad that the baras irises had been ruined in the sudden scare of the flying shark surfacing and coming to attack. However, with the shark pacified, Chotan sighed and walked to the area where the rest of the irises were, looking over them to see if she could find two new flowers that were good for her crafts.

Leaving her to it, Nomin had approached Jajiradai and the other boy, curious as to who this new boy was. It seemed the other two children had also returned -- or perhaps did not run terribly far to where they could see and hear that the situation had been handled. Though Che had been wary of the shark that was still there, Odchigen happily approached, praising his elder brother and his abilities.

“Jajiradai! I knew you could take down that shark!” Odchigen cheered.

“Oh… it was… it was this new boy…” Nomin said, pointing at him. “He defeated the shark.”

“... It was, “Jajiradai affirmed, watching Odchigen glance between everyone as he gawked in disbelief.

“Hey, what’s your name?” Nomin finally asked the boy, as it seemed no one else was asking what felt like an obvious question to ask in general.

“Baihingor, and I come from the Mankhad tribe,” the boy introduced. He then pointed to the shark and then held out a bone blowgun. “In my search for shells, I often come here to practice hitting cloudkin or wavekin that come too close. It is a form of hunting for us as well so that we might have food.”

“But how do you eat them if you poison them?” Checheyigen asked, her soft voice startling Nomin and Odchigen momentarily.

Baihingor chuckled softly and replied, “that is a very good concern…. My people often take the creatures back while they are paralyzed and allow them to get better. The shark is still alive, see? But the poison will wear off in several bells. When it does, we keep and care for the creature for a fortnight to help ensure the poison has run its course before we slaughter them for food.”

Walking toward the downed shark, Baihingor took some gloves from his person and slipped them on before grasping the dart and pulling it from the shark. Turning it around between his fingers, he then put it away in a specially decorated pouch before removing his gloves with a smile. He patted the wavekin rather gently before looking at the others around him.

“Come, we can remove the arrows and return the creature to sea. Like this, it will not benefit anyone save for its skin and bones… but to make no use of its meat because the dagina poison has not run its course is a waste,” Baihingor said, leaning down and pulling out one of the arrows that had broken though was still lodged into the beast.

Jajiradai told the other children to stand back while he and Baihingor took care of removing the rest of the arrows. Once removed, the two worked together to start bringing the shark back to the water. It was a task that proved a little difficult, though eventually both of the older boys had been able to at least get the flying shark back to deep enough water that they could make sure they could leave it without worrying about it dying on the beach and attracting other unwanted attention.

“So…” Baihingor started when everyone started back inland. “I suppose I wouldn’t be far from the truth if I were to assume you were all from the Sagahl tribe? My people are expecting to cross paths with you soon if that’s the case.”

“Yeah!” Odchigen eagerly replied. “We got a lot of our harvests in, and they’re ready to trade to your people!”

“That’s a relief to hear,” Baihingor sighed, bringing a hand to his chest in relief. “My sister relies on the medicine and tea that our people get from your tribe.”

Nomin looked at Baihingor in surprise. It was just as Bayarmaa told her; this boy who had saved them from the flying shark needed the medicine the Sagahl made or at least collected components for so that they might live as healthily as possible as well.

“Well…” Baihingor stopped walking with the group of Sagahl and smiled at them. When the others stopped and looked at him, he continued speaking, “I’ll be heading back to the beach to look for more shells. My people will be happy to know that you are not that far away. May we meet again soon, and travel in safety back to your people! I won’t always be around to save your scales from other flying sharks!”

[egg-of-mankhad]

Your Name

Cranes could be seen flying overhead a setting sun. The color of orange a prominent one in the fortress that bordered the entrance into Kugane. Where concrete pillars reached into the sky. Towers upon which pirates stood watch over the vast ruby dyed sea.

“<Okay...Just as we agreed...”> A young adolescent Xaela girl would whisper to the older male, pointing towards another docked ship where a number of questionable figures were loading on crates that looked to be heavy with their weight in gold. “<They have the golden scaled ones with them. If we integrate they might hardly notice us. We just need to play our parts well.>”

“<Sechen I don’t know…>” the older Xaela whispered. His crimson eyes narrowing with hesitation upon the men as they passed. Men garbed in happi jackets would venture back and forth as they spoke, hidden behind a wooden rice container. “<Look at them...There scales are made of gold. Ours are black. They will ask questions”>

“<We act dumb. Their tongue is far too quick regardless. The are like leaping dolphins who know not when to quit. Here--quickly>”

Before their hiding place was collected by the traders, the pair of Xaela would slip to the next container of rice. Then to the next. Dodging their horns and tails out of the eyesight of the strange hornless beings who were their seaferriers.

“<We act dumb, but we signal to them. We want work. We want to be a part of their crew. They won’t object. Not with the large brutes they appear to carry.>”

“<And if they turn us away?>”

“<Then we find another ship to collect us. I do not intend to stay here forever Eigengrau. Not on this sea…>”

“<Sechen…>”

The male Xaela did not wish to stay either. The sight of the tower that stretched to the Heavens would always seem like a scar across the sky in his eyes. And the horizon, a dreadful reminder. He would try and reach out to his newfound friend for a small bit of comfort that they would finally find a place away from everything. She did not take his hand.

“<After this. I do not wish to see you anymore.>”

====

“<M...marraige….papa…?>”

How old was he then...Thirteen summers? The fresh tears had not quite left his face. His father sat across from him in stone faced. Dead set in his decision for the young man. The young one had come of age. And his body was starting to develop into its peak.

“<You are a man now. Or...You will be.>” He would wordless gesture towards a paddle that sat next to him. It was ceremonial and made from wood. And held within it the same markings that reflected the dangerous curves of the sea. “<Within the next month the cyclone will return.>” Crimson red eyes, shining like a dying set of stars, would center in on Eigen. A predator upon prey, in some other scenario perhaps.

“<You will brave the waters. And you will find yourself a whale calf, kill it, and bring it here.>”

It was an order. Not a request; The days leading up to such a moment were felt with preparations that included reminders of the boy’s lessons. As well as new lessons. Such as how to harpoon a cow. And where to find a whale pod. Things such as a whale’s weaning period. The boy was taught how long a calf stayed with their mother. When the mother rose to the surface. How to tell when a calf was feeding on a mother’s milk. So many different things about whales Eigen would learn in that short time period, so many things he would wish he didn’t know.

====

“THERE SHE BLOWS!!”

There came that charged cry of the ship’s captain. A shout of excitement, and impassioned need. There. She. Blow. Her size was 37 fulms, 6 ilms. A heavy weight of 15 tons. She was pretty, but not an absolutely beautiful catch. Eigen’s eyes glimmered in recognition of the mollusks that covered the underside of her hide as she lept across at the ships side. A sad peering giant eye glancing over to them in that brief moment. Her blowhole spraying out a shimmer of water.

Sounds of hardworking men’s feets could be heard scrambling towards Eigen’s end of the ship. And the sound of rowboats being lowered could be heard. Someone handed Eigen a harpoon, the young adult couldn’t see whom.

He had only been in Kugane for a moon, and they already put him to work. “Hey, you look strong! Come help us!”; Eigen did not understand these words. All he understood was that he was shoved on a ship at the earliest convenience the moment he was separated from Sechen.

It was good work, but not well paying work. Eigen would learn quickly that he would only recieve the same wages as the Kojin beast tribe who traveled with him on these excursions. Barely enough for food. Yet enough to be scrambled for a room for a night. The reality would dawn on Eigen how he would have to choose his living condition quickly. It was either to have food and be homeless, yet still starve. Or to have a room and starve.

For a Xaela such as he, the choice was rather one sided.

“Boat’s cleared!” shouted another man. Some would shove Eigen’s shoulder roughly as he felt the boat he sat in become heavy with other able bodied men. They were rowed quickly to the cow’s position. The Hingan sun bearing down on them with a hint of judgmental rage.

“Laying on her now, nice and sweet! Draw out yer irons now, boys! This one’s a beast!”

“Just like her sweet scaley cousin am I right?” A man would punch Eigen’s shoulder with a laugh. A moment would past before the dark au ra would realize that the man was speaking to him. He would laugh with him, though not understanding his words.

“Oi!! Asshole! Don’t bully the poor lad!” Eigen blinked over at a raen who would have snarled at the laughing hiyur, who would grab at Eigen’s shoulder and would murmur against the horn. “I hear you savages have a tribe where everyone looks like a kami damned whale. Is this true? Can you introduce me?” The hiyur’s snickering voice made Eigen’s spine shiver for some reason.

The raen would snarl once more and roll his eyes. Though there was nothing to be done to the man. He was a drunk. No one wanted to deal with him. “Fucking Hingans” the raen would murmur.

There was a distance in his eyes as he regarded Eigen as well. A cold, uncaring one. He seemed more so focused on the water with the spraying geysers of whale breath in the distance.

“Heyyyy don’t sweat it scales. You and me, we understand the whales. We live, breath, eat, shit, and -fuck- whales am I right?” The Hiyur man would snicker. “You really must introduce me to your females. I’ll hold you to that okay? Here, shake on it. We go find a cow to screw together after we’re done screwing this here cow.” The hiyur man gestures wildly to the sea. His hand missing the herding spot of the whales by a few fulms.

“GODDAMN MORONS QUIT YER SCABBLING AND FOCUS FOR FUCK’S SAKE” The roegadyn that headed the front would shout with irritation. “Asahi---ASAHI---Think you can give it to her!? The DAMN BASTARDS ahead of us are already gallying her mates!”

“On it already…” The air would grow tense as a resounding echo would shake through their boat. A loud and violent song that would ring across Eigen’s horns.

“Focus on big mama! Forget the babs!---Look alive rookie, this is gonna be yer first Sleighride!”

It was beautiful, but terrifying. A symphony of fear, and of terror. Sung for the audience that were her predators. Eigen would listen to the matron’s song. And felt his heart tug for the days of his youth. Remembering the sorrow of the creature he would lay to rest. Simply for the right to a name of his own.

====

“<You are late>”

The boy Xaela would arrive at his father’s tend. Bloodied and covered in black ink. Looking as though he was about to cry. He had ventured out into the sea like his father had said. Among thunder and lightning like his father had said. He did not find any mother whale out there but had apparently found something much worse. Much larger. Though yet still a whale, if the tail fin he dragged behind him was of any indicator.

He, couldn’t stop crying.

“<What is this?>” The voice of his father was quiet. It sounded like disbelief but the young Xaela could not be certain. The elder stood and walk over to the younger au ra. Eyes glowering over the fin. “<I asked for a -whole whale-. Not this….-excuse-.>” He would gesture with a growl.

“<I...I lost it….!”>”

The boy looked up at his father with weeping tears in his eyes. His bloodied mouth openin and closing as he sobbed. Looking absolutely disheartened. “<I bit its tail and I harpooned it like you said but its flesh had torn and I lost it…! It...It died though….I think it was...Dyi-->”

“<Do not speak to me your excuses! The rest of the whale! -Where- is it?!>”

The boy had failed his test. That much was certain. And before he would be casted off, the boy would run away. Terrified, and cowardly, he would run. While the skies outside would continue to storm with raging winds and rain. He stumbled over a conch shell at some point during his fleeing. And hits his head face first in the muddied sand. The sky around him would be alight with lightning. And ahead of him, within that moment. His eyes would catch the bloodied form of the whale that he had come into contact with bells before hand. It was barely breathing, barely holding onto life. Upon the bed of coastal sand. Fifty fulms in its magnificence. A giant, compared to creature his father expected him to tame. Next to the creature, was another. A baby thing that looked like it was in a state of weeping.

Sadly, carefully, Eigen would put his arms over both creatures. And he would hug them both, as well as anyone his size possibly could. A sharp piercing sensation in his heart telling him that this was what he needed; how he hated it so.

“<....I am so sorry….>”

He really did not want to take two lives that night. But it was already too late. Lightning flashed across the sky and the boy would cower as he held tight. “<Please...please forgive me>”

...

“<Eigengrau. Your name is Eigengrau....A Shadow is what you are. Nothing more, nothing less.>”

[egg-of-mankhad]

@bhaldstyr-ahtahrmsyn

“Have you done this?”

[sea-and-storm]

ENEMIES OF MY ENEMY : Mini-Drabble [Ghoa]

After seemingly countless bells spent hidden away in the belly of the mountain, Ghoa relished the caress of the ocean breeze on her face and through her hair. Her eyes closed as she breathed deeply the scent of sea and salt, willing herself to let her worries be carried away with the gentle winds blowing over the deck of the ferry.

For a moment, she felt better, somehow almost lighter. Her shoulders, feeling as tightly wound as a spring, slowly began to ease into a slump. Her brow smoothed from the furrow it had regularly worked itself into over the course of the evening. Even the muscles in her legs had been tensed, instinctively ready throughout the course of the evening to make a last-ditch effort to run if the situation turned bitterly sour. But now they too had started to relax at the ocean’s ever-comforting presence.

Yet as her eyes finally opened again and once more settled on the slowly shrinking Yanxian shore, as her gaze was drawn to the movement of the carriage that had borne her to the docks now leaving them again, it was as if the winds suddenly shifted. The tensions returned to her all at once, with such a weight as to make her stomach churn uneasily.

These weren’t the sort of troubles that one could simply run away from, after all. They may as well have been a ball and chain locked tightly around her ankle. But every lock possessed a key, and damned if Ghoa wasn’t intent on thieving it away to free herself. Of course, that too was rapidly becoming much more difficult and risky of a feat the longer this game of theirs continued on.

New players had set up on the board. Ieharu Musa was perhaps the most deadly of the new contenders, given his position of power upon the dais and his beast of a champion. Squared up directly against Elam, she might have been tempted to think of him as a potential ally. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, as the saying went. But she knew too little of him to make that call or pursue that potential avenue.

There was one other matter besides that gave her pause, and that was the elder sponsor’s connection to Nei Uzuka. The brothel mistress certainly had no love for Elam herself, but there was something about her that deeply bothered the Xaela. Perhaps they might have possessed similar desires to see the Eorzean knocked off the perch he had taken from her, but Nei seemed a risk. She wasn’t at all the quiet, controlled type that Musa seemingly was. Rather, she had fallen into her trap of provocation when Ghoa had tested her, taking the bait and biting back at the slight. That wasn’t even to mention how unclear her motivations and ambitions were. A vain woman prone to lashing out with ultimately unknown motives simply didn’t seem to be the best ally to make in this highly delicate ordeal.

However, if her intuition was right, there may have been a third option for allyship. Hikomoro had said time and again that he held no ill will towards Elam, but he had seemed intent on asking her about him all the same. Had it merely been for gossip, or was he perhaps not as indifferent towards the ijin newcomer as he claimed? She wasn’t sure, but even if it were true, there was perhaps an opportunity there. The silk lord didn’t need to have Nei’s rancor or Musa’s frustration to potentially be useful to her. If he was indifferent, that only meant he needed a gentle nudge in the right direction to turn him. And so far? He had been quite receptive to her nudging.

Naturally, if it worked out the way she hoped, the Xaela knew there would be a price to be paid for that allyship. Nothing in this world, and especially not in its seedy underbelly, ever came free. She would have to hear a price before committing, but she would venture a guess that whatever the Roegadyn would want in exchange for his aid and protection would be far more manageable than Elam’s black, vengeful, violent temper when he was denied something – or someone – that he wanted.

Time would tell, and she figured she had at least a sun or two of it before Hikomoro called upon her for a private visit to his estate. It would give her a chance to think it all through, to come up with her stories and to get them straight. To cherry-pick what information she could feed him, and to rehearse lies for the rest until they sounded truer than the truth itself.

[shaelstormchild]

Inspiration

The guards were now twice in number as when Brick and Shael had scouted the place. She wasn’t sure if either of them had been made or if it was Roen’s late visit that triggered the sudden need for increase in security, but no matter the reason, getting to Nabi had now become a much more difficult task.

Shael looked at the map that Luri had drawn for Ghoa, committing it to memory. If all went according to plan, Ghoa should be able to draw the guards to the east side, if she met Estrid on the balcony as they did before. The library, on the other hand, was on the opposite of the manse, near the theater. That would be where the Doctor would emerge from, along with Nabi if they were lucky. 

If they weren’t lucky, she would have to go in and retrieve the Xaela herself.

“A concealed door in the middle of one of the bookshelves.” The handmaiden hadn’t observed the mechanism herself, only that it opened a way down into a labyrinth of tunnels that eventually led to an underground laboratory. Probably under the theater somewhere, maybe even linked with the sewers. It would be convenient to do away with any waste material or bodies. Had they had enough time, exploration of the sewage tunnels may have revealed another way in or out.

But they had little time. Shael wasn’t about to let Nabi remain in that lab for another sun.

“About those new arrivals,” Brick’s words returned to her as she rubbed her brows. “Two of them will be familiar to you. The duskwight and the roegadyn from that lighthouse. Zurvine and Blauwaht, I believe.”

Shael wasn’t sure if this was a blessing or not. Saving Saltborn’s crew from the corrupted undead beneath the lighthouse had been a boon initially, with Fuller repaying the favor by giving her the address to the Doctor’s. But now that the other two were here to strengthen the security, could she trust them? 

Of course not. The idea was dismissed as soon as it came. She trusted no one outside of her own crew. To mistakenly let her guard down around those she had just met, whether they were grateful or not, could be deadly. And she knew better than that. 

She didn’t even know if she could believe this map either, since she knew nothing about this handmaiden. Listening in, she seemed demure and helpful enough, but why was she going through such lengths to help strangers, against the interests of the master of the house?

But it wasn’t like Shael had any choice. This map was the best lead they got to getting to Nabi, so she had to trust that it was legit. Ghoa was confident, at least, in Luri’s motivation for helping. It would have to do.

So then what was the plan? Shael had gone over various scenarios in her head, and none looked promising. The success hinged on so many different What Ifs, and one failure in the chain would endanger too many people that mattered to her.

Shael slid down against the wall, her gaze lowering to the Xaela in the room below her as Ghoa was starting to measure out the ingredients to put together the potion. The Mankhad didn’t have to say it out loud, but Shael spied it on the woman’s face; taking this potion was not without a huge risk. Ghoa was making herself the center of attention, heightening her powers to intimidate a ruthless man into a hostage exchange. It was possible that things could go very wrong for her.

Shael leaned her head back, a light thunk resounding against the wooden wall. Ghoa as a distraction on the inside. Brick with her turret to draw more guards on the outside. And she only had herself to try and get to Nabi. The odds were not in their favor.

“I'll leave it to you, then. Best to leave the making of a plan out of an impossible scenario to the woman who managed to explode a heavily guarded dais tucked under a mountain, no?" Was that false bravado or some kind of pep talk to try and bolster her confidence? Or was the Mankhad actually hopeful that this would all work out like the fighting pits? Sure, they had gone into a mountain full of hostiles, just the three of them, to save two within that were just as likely to get killed before getting out.

The odds weren’t so great then either. But they did all come out, didn’t they? Everyone was in on the crazy plan.

Everyone.

Shael continued to stare at the Mankhad, but her eyes widened behind her shades. The fighting pits, the Junghid, and the ruins... They had all come through, working together. Even the most impossible missions with the Resistance, when the team was synched together, they were able to pull off the impossible.

The odds were against her here, because Shael wasn’t playing all the pieces on the map. She wasn’t trusting everyone to do what they needed to. It was time that changed. For everyone’s sake.

Her hand rose to her ear, activating the pearl. 

“Saltborn. We need to talk. About Nabi.” Her jaw clenched. “Now.”

[afreesworn]

3: Muster

“Seriously? Her?”

Shael’s incredulous question was probably on everyone’s minds, they were just not giving voice to it. At least, that was what Nabi assumed. But as silence started to settle in rather awkwardly amongst them all, Nabi was starting to question her own idea.

It was a strange notion to begin with, that this extra credit club— it was a nice way of saying detention class — showcase their own talents with an act in the spring festival. It was teacher Batu’s idea, to draw more attention to their strategy based dice game that, surprisingly, had captured the interest of everyone in the group. While it was a learning curve for everyone, since they started this exercise, everyone who had rolled up a character began to attend the after school sessions faithfully. Even Ghoa, who feigned disinterest at the start, started to show up with her own personalized jeweled dice with a decorated case for it, that even had her own initials carved into it.

“What? If I am going to play, I am going to play in style,” the Mankhad purred. “I know these beauties will bring me luck.”

Shael rolled her eyes at her, but Nabi caught her arching her brows when Ghoa’s first few rolls were in the high teens. A few days later, Shael too showed up with her own set of steel etched dice, that she proudly told Nabi she won in a game.

Jude only snorted his disdain at the notion of spending any money on something they were forced to do for school credit, but when the game began, Nabi noticed his intense concentration and focus. He wanted to win, and was not shy about pointing out errors that others were making.

He was the first to scoff at Nabi when she consciously made a decision that didn’t favor the party. “But… my character likes animals! She wouldn’t want them hurt!” Nabi explained. Surprisingly, she expected more derision from him, but when their teacher gave her extra points for staying faithful to one of her character “traits”, everyone took note, reviewing their own character’s flaws and inclinations. Jude said nothing else on the matter, and Ghoa started to make extra effort in bringing to life her own character’s lively persona. 

Nabi couldn’t say the party’s quest went smoothly always; it was a mixed bag of mistakes, hard-earned lessons, and surprises. But when they achieved victory over an opponent while also learning more about each other’s characters, none could deny the air of satisfaction that lifted them all.

Except Pjel. The viera maintained her stoic silence. She made her moves on the board without any fanfare, and her character being mute, she stuck to that trait religiously. She never spoke a word, in character or out. But her rolls were impeccable and she was fearless in battle. There was no doubt that the group could not have succeeded without her.

Nabi was still unsure her reason for being in detention, whether she missed classes, had a failing grade, or if it was for other disciplinary reasons. Every time she tried to strike up a conversation with Pjel, she was just met with silence and a blank stare.

So when teacher Batu put on the group their next task, to put together an act at the spring festival, everyone stared at him dumbfounded. Ghoa laughed bemusedly, while Shael rolled her eyes again. Jude muttered and Pjel, as usual, said nothing on the matter.  But once the session was over and their teacher left them to their own devices, protests and gripes began to rumble amongst them.

That’s when Nabi injected the idea about performing a song. 

“What… like a band?” Shael snorted out loud. 

“Wh-why not?” Nabi blinked, eyes wide. “You play in a band, the bass guitar right?”

The Highlander immediately narrowed her eyes, as if warning not to share too much. “Yeah well… we broke up a few months back.”

“A ridiculous idea,” Ghoa hummed. “I can’t imagine doing death metal or whatever you call music.”

“You have a lovely singing voice, Ghoa!” Nabi quickly interjected before Shael retorted back at the Mankhad. “I heard you at the last Starlight festival.”

“Oh… that!” Ghoa waved her off with a chuckle, but her smile widened. “That wasn’t even my best. You should see some of my posts on--”

“Yer actually serious,” Shael cut her off, staring at Nabi. “Ya can’t just wave yer hand and put a band together. Okay so ya got a bass and singer. Ya need drums and lead guitar and--”

Shael was interrupted yet again when sounds of tapping drew all of their attention. Pjel was tapping her feet and gloved hands were percussing over the edge of the table. And as they all stared in disbelief, the viera proceeded to slap and bang on the wooden table, the plastic chair and the floor with her hands and feet. And the rhythm that was starting to fill the room, it made Nabi grin horn to horn.

“Seriously? Her?”

Nabi shrugged exaggeratedly at Shael, looking both surprised and delighted. “We have… our drummer!” She laughed with a sweep of her hand at Pjel. 

“Pfttt.” Shael threw her hands in the air. “Well, none o’ that be of any use unless ya got a lead guitar.” 

Nabi chewed her lips and started to look around the room. 

“Well, no way we can count on him,” Ghoa groaned, rolling her eyes at the door. Jude had already left, he never lingered long after these sessions were over. Nabi knew not where he had to go, but he always left in a hurry. “Besides, I doubt the likes of him knows a thing about carrying a tune or holding anything other than a knife or a bottle of booze.”

“The idea was ridiculous, anyroad,” Shael added, gathering her bag. “No way we can muster a band together.” She tutted with a frown. “It’s just one of teacher’s crazy ideas. Again.” She started out the door.

Nabi sighed, her shoulders sinking. And as everyone else started to leave the classroom, she hurriedly picked up her own books and followed. 

But the idea refused to leave her.

[sentryandco]

#1: Crux

For as long as he could remember, Arasen knew he was destined for something important. He had prepared himself for it. He had prayed to the gods that when the time came, he would be worthy of the path that would reveal itself to him.

Then when the horrific visions came of the futures that could be, Arasen was nearly undone by the terrors that visited him every time he closed his eyes. But he didn’t bemoan that the gift of Sight was truly just a curse that no longer allowed him to see beyond the suffering that lay ahead. Instead, he persevered, escaping the precipice of insanity from the sleepiness nights and overwhelming despair. He had to learn that compassion and mercy had no place in his life, for if he was to walk the path that would lead to the salvation of all, he couldn’t afford any distractions that could detract him from his goal. He would fulfill his duty by any means necessary, truthfulness and happiness be damned.

And now, within the bowels of the earth beneath the ancient ruins that held powers capable of granting his ultimate wish, it was here that Arasen saw his destiny. This was where his years of torment and nightmares would end, where the prophecy of the Lost Daughter would be finally fulfilled.

Only, there were two paths that await him.

The first choice was the obvious one. It was what he had been working for, his years of machinations finally bearing fruit. The Lost Daughter had been found, and she had been brought to the altar of the ancients, where her blood and soul would give life to the god that slept. He needed only to nudge the tides of battle in favor of the black irises, so that they would take what is rightfully theirs, and awaken the nameless entity that slumbered beneath the mountain.

It should have been an easy decision. All those years he had labored, deceiving everyone, hardening his heart, and damning his soul, what was it for if not for this moment? 

And yet, it had been a journey of solitude. None else had walked this path with him, only the crushing weight of the foreboding knowledge was his companion.

But somewhere along the way, he saw the Lost Daughter for more than just the ends to his means. Nabi was warm and full of life. She was so eager to share her joy but also too generous in her mercy. Even after finding out about his machinations, she forgave him, and even offered him a second chance. But he should have expected that. The sacrifice had to be worthy of the greatness that awaited.

What surprised him, however, was the flawed and unworthy companions his cousin had around her. Arasen had long come to accept that the rest of the world was tainted. It was because of the imperfections, the hubris and greed in people’s hearts, that allowed for so much suffering to exist in the first place. And that was initially what he saw in everyone that Nabi called her friends and family.

Arasen had no hesitation in lying to them, using them, and manipulating them. He was certain a few of them would have to die, even if by his own hands. So then, why was he fighting by their side now?

Stormchild was easy to figure out, but dangerous to scheme around. A cold-hearted killer, whenever she threatened to take his life, Arasen had no doubt she would carry it through. But she held her hand, and risked much, including her own life, for the sake of his cousin. 

Then there was Saltborn. Quick of temper with a sour disposition, the hyur took a disliking to him immediately. Arasen was certain the Confederate had to die, for he was closest to Nabi, and the strongest obstacle in his way. Arasen had even put a blade to his throat, fully intent on killing him.

But in a twist of fate, Saltborn instead saved Arasen from drowning beneath the tumultuous sea, and even forfeited his chances to kill him outright, when more than a few opportunities were laid at his feet. With much reluctance, the hyur spared the Kharlu, even after fully remembering all the pain that the Xaela had caused him. All because of the slim chance that Arasen could now save Nabi from her fate. Arasen knew full well that he would not be here, if it wasn’t for Saltborn.

Then there was Ghoa. She was most like him, with her honeyed tongue and selfish motivations. And initially, whenever she extended a hand of friendship towards him, Arasen thought it much like his own incentive, to keep everyone close and yet at a distance, to watch them and discern their weaknesses. Enthralling her was an absolute necessity. But Arasen soon realized just how easy it turned out to be. Was it because she loved Batuhan that she assumed the best of him as well? Arasen could not deny that Batu’s fondness for the Mankhad may have softened his own disposition towards her. But that did not stop him from using his blood magic to tug on the woman’s thoughts, turning them to his own favor. 

But to his surprise, when faced with a great need, Ghoa offered something of herself, without any manipulation on his part. A schemer caring for the sake of others. That caught him off guard. But moreso, it reminded him that he too had such good intentions, at the very start of his own journey. So when had things gotten so warped?

It was because of all of them that he was even giving this second choice a thought. 

As Arasen stared up at the colossal darkness that loomed before them all, he reminded himself of the pure idea that began his journey. The prophecy had been about salvation and sacrifice. But what he hadn’t realized until now, was that somewhere within it all, was also a thread of hope. Of an impossible dream that could be realized if one was willing to give all they had for the sake of others.

Arasen touched his chest for the rune that was etched there, a tactile reminder of his childhood promise and his bond. Of his original ideals. To choose the second path would be to break the enchantment upon Ghoa. To return to Batu all that Arasen had taken from him. He would be severing his bonds with all of them. A wash of loneliness returned to him, but with it a sense of contentment. He wasn’t following Chanai and Siban’s designs, he wasn’t being driven by visions of death. The path he chose now was for hope, and a future of happiness, not for himself, but for others.

He would prove himself worthy.

[starfish-ffxiv]

- Character Features -

Just a fun little character game. Fill in the below categories with 3-5 things that your character can be identified by. Repost & tag away!

♢  EMOTIONS / FEELINGS:

Obligated - Lonely - Bold - Naive - Brash

♢ GREETINGS:

For friends; a punch - For acquaintances; a polite bow or wave - For total strangers; a stunned and judgmental stare

♢ COLORS:

Purple - Pink - Blue - White - Silver

♢ SCENTS:

Sea salt - Coconut - Lavender - Lemon - Citrus

♢ CLOTHING:

Armor - Closely tailored - Neat - Heels - Well Dressed

♢ OBJECTS:

Weapons - Cards - Journal - Potions - Compass

♢ VICES & BAD HABITS:

Isolationist - Speaking Her Mind - Recklessness - Excluding Information - Biting Her Nails

♢ BODY LANGUAGE:

Upright - Composed - Inoffensive - Placid - Always Alert

♢ AESTHETIC:

Ocean - Galaxy - Monsters - Magic - Fear

Tagged by: @illia-ast​, @fortysanthus-ff14​ and @lightdevoid​ thanks friends!

Tagging: @sola-ffxiv​ @lukelxiv @thelastwintermere @carmen-ffxiv @dravaniia @egg-of-mankhad @scatteredstoryteller @isuke-ejinn @trahja-tia and @rifted-vitale You’ve all probably already done this but !! IDK !!

[yzareenxiv]

Character Features - Y’zareen Serhan

Just a fun little character game. Fill in the below categories with 3-5 things that your character can be identified by. Repost & tag away!

♢  EMOTIONS / FEELINGS:

Pride - Joy - Rationality - Anger - Playfulness

♢ GREETINGS:

Measuring up - Grin - Ears Perking

♢ COLORS:

Gold - Plum - Emerald - Ruby - Sapphire

♢ SCENTS:

Jasmine - Cardamom - Blood

♢ CLOTHING:

Silk - Linen - Embroidery - Leather

♢ OBJECTS:

Gold - Gems - Spear - Claws

♢ VICES & BAD HABITS:

Lust - Wrath - Alcohol - Drugs

♢ BODY LANGUAGE:

Hip-sways - Tail curls - Ears perked - Grins - Expressive hands

♢ AESTHETIC:

Gold - Feline - Black - Storms - Volcanos

Tagged by: Nobody! Just saw it and thought it would be fun.

Tagging: @ala-mhinyan, @egg-of-mankhad, @isuke-ejinn, @dunrai-ffxiv, @talesfromthegameff14, @cahli-tia, @desertwildcatte, and anyone else who wants to do it!

[wildgirlcinna]

When you get this, please respond with five things that make you happy~! Then, send to the last ten people in your notifications. You never know who might benefit from spreading positivity~! ❤

Five things that make me happy, in no particular order:

1. Chocolate - especially dark chocolate. 

2. My husband - such a cool, adorable, sexy sweetheart, and my best friend!  

3. Beer - I’m a light to moderate drinker, but I love all different types of beer!  Hubby & I are such beer nerds that we just started our own brewing business this year, after 5+ years of homebrewing.

4.  My 4 fur children - Taru the Chihuahua, Samurai the Greyhound, old lady cat Alley Cat, & emo-boy cat Burton.

5. Final Fantasy 14, and all the wonderful friends I’ve made as a result - without FFXIV I doubt I’d be here answering this question!

Last 10 people: @ffxivtribehydrae, @wanderer–v, @egg-of-mankhad, @littlenozomi, @fatewalker, @kirikiriyu, @rokachan, @captainkurosolaire, @az-ffxiv, @sanguinesonata

[catte-bard]

Eigengrau Mankhad for

VISUAL ATTRACTIVENESS: 💗💗💗💗“Gods, he’s tall. Though luckily I do have a fondest for taller individuals. And no it’s not just because most people are taller than me!”

FRIENDSHIP LEVEL: 💔"Unfortunately, we’re complete strangers. So I can’t really call him a friend.”

SEXUAL DESIRE: 💗 

“Maybe. Maybe, as I’m not into the habit of bedding random strangers. But I will say there’s something appealing about Au Ra.”

ROMANTIC INTENT: 💔“Perhaps if I knew him better. But even then, I’m rather guarded about such things.” 

(Thank you for the ask!)

Drop me a character name and I’ll reveal my muse’s heart

[egg-of-mankhad]

[cockiestmageeorzea]

Khasar Oronir #1

This was his chance.

His hand tightens around the glass vial of blow-darts he had managed to steal from the stores of a merchant in Reunion the other day. His heart beats wildly in his chest as he watches the tall Oronir warrior wash his face outside of a yurt. Most of the tribe had gone to sleep, leaving the surrounding area quiet and deserted.

His other hand grips the bone pipe he had stolen from the same merchant equally tightly, its ridges digging into his palm. The child had planned this months in advance all by himself, telling not even his friends about his grand scheme. The Naadam was to happen the day after tomorrow, and Gansukh was currently bloated on food and drink from the last night of the feast. His reactions would be slower due to the alcohol in his system, and he would not be expecting an attack coming from within the tribe - much less from someone who was too young to even challenge Bardam's Mettle.

His plan was perfect. He had spent weeks spying on the movements of the merchants in Reunion in order to pull off the theft of the blow-darts and pipe. The darts were from the Mankhad tribe, reknown for being covered in the poison of the pufferfish. He had overheard the merchant boasting about obtaining them from a tribe who traded with the Mankhad. The coast was far and the tribe preferred their isolation. Of course, the child had also spent a month training with a pipe and regular blow-darts to ensure that he would not miss. Gansukh was a large man, but a fast one. After all, he was one of the Oronir's best.

His eyes follow the tall, muscular figure as it straightens. He carefully inserts a blow-dart into one end of the pipe and put his lips on the other, then takes aim. Gansukh was shaking the water out of his hair.

"I know you are there, boy. You have been watching me since I left the feast."

He freezes at this. Gansukh had not yet turned. His posture was relaxed, with no weapons nearby. Did he not think of him as a threat? Of course not. He was just a boy. Gansukh was one of the best.

He lowers the pipe from his mouth, then tucks it into the back of his belt and steps out from the shadows. Gansukh turns to face him, a smile on his face.

"Your movements are exceptionally careful and silent. You will be a skilled tracker one day, Khasar."

Khasar's eyebrows come together at this comment. "I seek to be a warrior. Not a tracker. Do you think me only fit to hunt down escaped sheep?"

Gansukh laughs at this comment and the scowl on the boy's face. "Only sheep? There are many greater things to track than sheep, boy. You do not know yet. But you will if you prove yourself in Bardam's Mettle."

"If?" Khasar scowls even more at this and his hands clench into fists. "Have you not seen my skills in battle? Overcoming Bardam's Mettle will not be a challenge. In fact, I do not even need to do so to prove myself. I am the best among my peers!"

"The best?" The Oronir warrior raises an eyebrow. "Such confidence from a boy of only thirteen summers. You are most definitely skilled, Khasar. I am unsure about the 'best'." He gestures at him. "For one, your arrogance is astounding...although a warrior does need a bit of arrogance to be great. So, why have you been tailing me, boy? Did you wish to ask me something?"

Khasar smirks at Gansukh. His hand casually moves behind his back, fingers touching the bone of the pipe. Then, he retracts his arm and walks forward until he is in front of the tall man. Gansukh's shadow loomed over him; great was their height difference. "Yes. I wish to know what your first Naadam was like."

Gansukh lets out a long sigh at this. "My first Naadam? It was so many moons ago." He looks down at the green-haired child, then beckons for him to follow. The man takes Khasar over to two piles of hay, and they sit next to each other. "My first Naadam was when I was eighteen summers. I was thrilled to be a part of it and. Bringing glory to the Oronir tribe was my dream - as is the dream of every warrior born and bred of the Sun. Yours as well, I assume?"

Khasar nods. He listens intently as Gansukh continues.

"My blood rushed through my body faster than the rivers of the Steppe when I first stepped out onto the battlefield. I remember leaping from my Yol and driving my blades into the back of a Sagahl. He was my first kill. It had been so easy, and I was strongly emboldened by my victory. The enemy had not even been able to put up a fight." Gansukh looks out, over the Dawn Throne. "I ran into the throngs of warriors with my blades. Red, blue, black, orange...the colors of the different tribes blended together in my vision. It did not matter who was from which tribe. All that mattered was killing as many enemies as possible to create a path for the most resplendent brother to the ovoo. And they were all enemies in the Naadam."

"Ah, but the screams. My first kill had not been given the chance to scream. But my second kill was not as easy. It was messy. She was of the Qerel, and her armor made her a difficult foe. When I thrust my blade through a hole in her helmet and pierced her eye, her scream brought me out of my bloodlust. The sight was one I had never seen. I watched as she moved her head from the pain and my blade slashed down her cheek. I pulled my sword back to free it from the flesh, and her eye splattered across my face. Blood was pouring from the socket, and her screams rang through my head."

"And then I heard them. The screams of the fallen around me. Everywhere I looked was the same. Warriors mortally injuring other warriors. The screams of the dying. You see, Khasar...nothing prepares you for the Naadam. Even if you have killed before, nothing prepares you. Seeing one or two Xaela die is not the same as seeing death in every direction. Knowing that the next corpse on the ground could be you."

Gansukh smiles at Khasar again. The boy was completely captivated by his story, his red eyes staring intently at the warrior. "We Xaela live to battle. The Naadam takes many lives every year. But it is the way of the Steppe. It is how we settle our tribal differences, or there would be constant war in the Steppe. It is our duty as descendants of the Sun to be victorious every year and watch over the children of Nhaama."

Khasar remains quiet for a while after the story. "I wonder how my first Naadam will be. Will I feel the same as you? Or will it be different?"

"Everyone experiences it differently. But you will have your chance in a few years. I have seen you sparring with the other children. Your skills will make you a formidable opponent." He puts his hand on Khasar's shoulder.

"Thank you," Khasar says. "But you are wrong. I will have my chance very soon."

Gansukh's arm stiffens at this. His eyes slowly look down at his leg. Khasar was holding onto a bone pipe tightly, having driven it into his leg. The boy removes the pipe, revealing a dart.

Khasar smirks at Gansukh. "Do not fear. It is Mankhad poison. It will merely disable you for a few days. Enough for me to take your place in the Naadam, when the Elders see how I have defeated the great Gansukh."

Gansukh's arm falls to his side and he keels over, his body thudding on the ground. "Y-you...you fool..." He shudders, and begins to froth at the mouth.

Khasar's smirk quickly disappears from his face when he sees this. "W-what is it? You are supposed to be disabled. Why...why are you acting this way?" He bends down to turn the warrior over and his heart nearly stops when he sees that the man's face had turned blue. "I...I-I..." Khasar releases him and stumbles backwards. He looks around at the deserted area around him, then begins running towards the nearest yurt. The boy pounds his fists on the door desperately, crying out for the ones inside to hear.

---

"Khasar Oronir."

Khasar was kneeling on the stone floor of the Dawn Throne in front of the Khan, his head bent low. His wrists were tied behind his back and the Council of Elders sat in their seats around the room. All eyes were trained on him. His heart lay heavy in his chest, the knowledge that the tribe would soon be forced to leave the Throne upon him.

"Your crime is poisoning Gansukh Oronir, one of the Sun's greatest warriors, a mere two nights before the Naadam. Removing one of our greatest assets from the battle and hence contributing to our loss of the Naadam this Tsagaan Sar. You are guilty of treason."

"No!" Khasar shouts at this, and is backhanded by the Buduga standing next to him. He lies on the ground, glaring up at the Khan defiantly. "It is not treason...it is a mistake!"

The Khan stares down at him impassively. "Attacking Gansukh with a poisoned dart was a mistake?"

The young Oronir grits his teeth, fighting back the tears that were gathering at the corners of his eyes. "It was Mankhad poison...pufferfish poison. It should have only disabled him. I-I meant to disable him and show the tribe that I could defeat the great Gansukh, so that I could take his place in the Naadam! I wanted to fight for the Sun. I did not betray us!"

"It was poison far worse than pufferfish poison," the Khan responds coldly. "If not for our skilled healers, Gansukh may have been paralyzed for life. He will recover in several weeks' time. But our loss in the Naadam cannot be recovered."

"We lost to the Dotharl, of all tribes," an Elder remarks in an bitter tone.

"A great loss indeed," the Khan says. "Khasar Oronir. You are a fool whose arrogance has gone too far. You are an Oronir - a descendant of the Sun. Yet, you shame our tribe with your antics. Did you think that we were not aware of all the trouble you have caused within the tribe? How you dared one of your peers to venture out into the desert and he was nearly shot down by a Dotharl lookout as a result? How you coerced another to steal multiple times from the Reunion, until the Qestir had to be involved? And now, you have crossed the line."

Khasar could not hold back the hot tears that trickled down his face. It should not have gone this way. He should have been a hero - the youngest in the history of Oronir to help the tribe win yet another Naadam. Not a child bound and thrown before the Council of the Elders and the Khan in shame.

"We must decide on his punishment," one elder speaks up. "He should be confiscated of all weapons and made to work menial tasks for a year."

"Two years," another says. The room fills with voices, each suggesting a different punishment.

"Menial tasks? Everyone here is growing soft," another elder scoffs. "He should be cast out of the tribe!"

The room falls silent at this. Khasar could not believe what he had heard. One had to commit a grave sin to be cast out of the tribe. The Oronir were family. It was unheard of. No one had been banished for three generations. His heart pounds even harder in his chest, and he struggles against the overwhelming desire to break free from his bindings and fight.

The Khan finally speaks after a long moment. "He has committed a great crime. But he will be an asset to the tribe in the future, when his skills in battle have been honed. However, his behavior must be corrected if he is to continue living in the tribe. We will put him in the cells in the caves, once we have vacated the Dawn Throne."

"The cells? And what will be done to him there?" an elder asks.

A dark smile crosses the Khan's face. He looks down at the defiant face of the child in question. "He will be corrected," he repeats once again.

---

Khasar's stomach was growling fiercely. He had spent several days in the dark cells of the caves with only a bowl of stale water while the Oronir moved from the Dawn Throne to the area nearby. The boy sits up from his position when he hears footsteps echoing down the corridor. He had not seen a single soul since being thrown into the cells, and this would be his first visitor. Perhaps they would bring food.

A tall figure approaches the bars, and he soons makes out the figure's identity. Khasar's face falls and he collapses back onto the floor when Gansukh stands before him, on the other side.

"Khasar Oronir. You fool of a boy," Gansukh says quietly. He was leaning against a tall cane made of larch, clearly not having recovered from the poison inflicted upon him. In his other hand was a small loaf of bread. He tosses it through the bars and it lands on the dirt-covered floor in front of the child. He watches as the latter grabs the bread and devours it greedily.

"Do you have more?" Khasar asks once he finishes. He looks around Gansukh, but does not see anything. His face falls once more in disappointment.

"You still have not learned your lesson." Gansukh stares at Khasar, who still looked obstinate. "Of course you have not. The punishment has not yet started." The man turns around, but pauses. "You should have eaten the bread more slowly. It is all you will be receiving for a while."

Khasar watches the older man walk away, using his cane as support. What did he mean? Was the Khan planning on starving him? Although the hunger pained him, he could handle being starved. He knew that the most radiant brother would not kill him. He was too valuable for that. The tribe would not do anything too terrible to him. He smirks to himself. It paid off to be skilled at a young age.

He hears footsteps again and looks up. Was Gansukh coming back? His eyes make out a taller, leaner figure, and the face of a Buduga soon came into view.

"Are you planning on starving me? I can handle it," Khasar comments when the Buduga stops in front of the cell. His eyes move up and down the Buduga's body, looking for anything that could be used on him. However, he does not see any weapons.

"Really now?" The Buduga opens the cell, to Khasar's surprise. "The Khan of the Oronir was kind to not banish you from the tribe. But I see that I will have my work cut out for me with an arrogant child like you." He reaches behind him and pulls a whip off his belt that Khasar had not been able to see.

The young Oronir's eyes widen at this. The whip was made out of matamata hide and covered in small spikes. He had never seen nor heard of a child being punished with a whip. He flinches when the Buduga cracks it, but does not back away. However, he could feel his skin prickling in fear.

"A brave child. Or foolhardy? Perhaps both." The Buduga's face remains impassive and he steps towards Khasar, who holds his ground. They stare at each other for a moment. Then, the Buduga hits Khasar across the chest with the whip.

Khasar screams and falls to the ground, his body writhing in pain as he clutches the wound. It had ripped his clothing apart and torn the skin it came into contact with. The boy barely has time to react as the Buduga hits him on the chest again. The whip catches his forearm this time and he screams once more.

The Khan stands outside of the caves, listening to Khasar's screaming coming from within. His advisor furrows his brows at the sounds and turns away.

"How long will this go on for?" he asks quietly. The Oronir could be cruel in their punishments, but even this was a lot for a boy of thirteen summers.

"...as long as it takes." The Khan walks away from the caves with Khasar's screams still echoing behind him.

---

His body was slumped on the ground, propped up only by the two walls of the corner. The outline of his bones pushed against his skin and floor was littered with his broken scales. Even the tip of his tail had broken off. His hair was matted with blood and his eyes dulled of any emotion. He did not stir when foosteps sounded from afar.

Gansukh stands before the cell, looking at the boy that had put him out of the last Naadam. His eyes travel down the body, then around the cell. "By Father Azim." He is quiet in his words. "What did you do to him?"

The Khan stands next to Gansukh, looking at Khasar as well. He remains silent.

"It has been forty-five days. How has his body been able to stand the whipping? Unless...you had the healers..." His face hardens at this when the Khan nods, nearly indiscernible. "He is a child."

"His will was impressive," the Khan replies. "I gave him a choice after the first week. He could continue being punished, or admit to his wrongdoings and repent for his crimes. He refused to repent. And so it continued."

Gansukh stares back at the lifeless body. He could tell that it was still alive by the chest's faint movements. "So your plan was to torture him into submission. And? Did you succeed?"

"I did." The Khan takes another moment of staring at Khasar before continuing. "He finally caved yesterday. I doubt he will cause any more trouble in the future."

"Indeed. Not only did you beat his defiance out of him, but his soul as well. Look at him. He is a shell of a boy."

The Khan turns his attention to the warrior beside him. "Taking pity on a traitor?"

"He is no traitor. You know this." Gansukh frowns deeply. "I question whether he will even be able to fight after."

"Batzorig was careful not to cause any permanent damage. He will have scars, but he will heal."

Gansukh makes a scathing noise. "I do not mean physically."

"He will be fine." The Khan turns to leave. "I will have someone pick him up and bring him to the healer's yurt soon. He can resume training once his injuries are gone. You may continue to stand here and pity the boy if you wish. He is deserving of his fate."

The taller Oronir remains in the caves, still staring at Khasar, who had not stirred at all despite his open eyes. Gansukh did not know if the child had even heard their conversation. "Sometimes, the way of the Steppe is cruel." The Khan was confident that Khasar would recover, but Gansukh had his doubts. A man who had his will beaten out of him was no man at all. "It is indeed a pity, boy. Soon, the Khan will see his error. And it will be too late."

[sea-and-storm]

FFXIV WRITE 2022 Prompt #3: Temper (Ghoa)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------TRIGGER WARNINGS: Captivity/confinement, addiction, grief, survivor's guilt, fear of death, and just.. a lot of Heavy Shit(tm). ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The creaking of an unseen door and the sound of heavy, armored footfalls approaching roused Ghoa from her state of fitful half-sleep, pushing herself up from the makeshift cot upon which she had languished now for days.

As soon as looked in the direction of the footsteps' approach and her tired eyes once more landed upon the sturdy iron bars keeping her here, she felt her stomach churn with nausea all over again. After the series of events in the Steppe and those in Kugane that had brought her to Thavnair, the Mankhad still could not acclimate to her present state of captivity.. Even if it were wholly deserved and a dilemma entirely of her own making. 

It had been nearly a week ago by her figuring since she had been detained by the Radiant Host and brought to the gaol, though it had seemed an eternity longer in her mind. Locked away in a cell with nothing to occupy her except for the unrelenting anxiety in the back of her mind, time crawled by with excruciating languidity. Kept in solitude away from others, her only company was the immense guilt that hung over her like a headsman’s axe.

If she had known then what she knew now, Ghoa never would’ve taken the commission that had landed her in this precarious situation. Yet she had been blinded to the potential repercussions by the promise of substantial coin - fuel to further feed the vices that she had fallen into in order to escape the specter of past failings that had returned to haunt her. 

When the ghost of Ino had finally caught up with her in Radz-at-Han, she had first tried hard to fight against it. Yet she had found herself lacking the strength to withstand it whenever it came calling in her dreams, much less when its shadowy figure began to infiltrate even her waking moments. All she knew to do was that which she had done all her life:  run away. 

Leaving Radz-at-Han physically hadn’t been an option. The wages that Ghoa earned by her apprenticeship were enough only to eke out a modest living on top of the free lodgings and access to materials and tools it provided her. She hadn’t the same glut of coin at her disposal as she had when she had left Kugane, funded by Hisanobu’s guilt and affections. Besides, if this ghost had followed her here across the sea’s great expanse once already, it stood to reason that it would follow again no matter what distant shores she eventually found herself upon. 

Ghoa knew then she had to flee in other ways. Drink and drug to numb her body and soul to the pains of the past. Companionship to replace the cold, dead eyes staring back at her in her mind's eye with those yet filled with light and life. All things readily available in this city of hedonism and plenty, if only one had the coin to afford it. And on a student’s earnings, afford it she could not. 

After she had left Kugane, the young alchemist had told herself that she would no longer use the skills she had honed under Hisanobu’s tutelage. No more dealings within the seedy underbelly of a city that would eat her whole if only she gave it half a chance. No more succumbing to the siren’s call of the droves of coin to be had if only one were willing to set aside their moral compass. No more using her brilliance to do harm for profit when she was capable of doing so much good instead.

She had not only made that promise to herself, but to the very mentor that had taken her under their wing. But still, despite her intentions at the time, Ghoa had broken her word to them both.

As it turned out, illegal tinctures and tonics sold even better in the Near East than they had in Hingashi. The alchemical underground of Radz-at-Han was alive and well, buzzing with opportunity for coin. Even besides the locals, there was a constant supply of foreign traders looking to get their hands on such goods to smuggle back to their own buyers back home at an even heftier profit. An undoubtedly potent narcotic or poison crafted by the hands of a Hannish alchemist would sell for a small fortune in foreign black markets.

Though it had taken some time at first to break her way into this underground, break into it she had. She had had to keep her dealings discrete to the utmost degree, of course. Had her mentor learned of what she was doing, everything she had worked so hard for in Thavnair would be forfeit. Master Sarasvati would not suffer a pupil committing what she considered to be an alchemist’s blackest sin:  the harming of others for one’s own gain.

At first, it had went well. Using the skills that Hisanobu had taught her to maintain the utmost level of secrecy, Ghoa had been able to keep her dealings hidden from her teacher, her colleagues, and her friends. But naturally, the occasional bender or visit to the pillowhouses began to lose its efficacy. She needed more and more just to get through the day without the ghost returning to her. The more she needed, the more desperate she became. The more desperate she became, the more reckless she had gotten.

Ghoa supposed she should have anticipated that eventually, it would take but a single misstep too far and her carefully crafted house of lies and sins would come crashing down around her. Yet even if she should have expected it, it did not stop the shock of just how violently and how swiftly her hidden life would implode in upon itself when finally it did.

The commission had seemed like countless others she had taken on, and by all rights it should have been. Whenever she was approached to concoct poisons for buyers, the Mankhad had made it a point not to ask too many questions. The less she knew about what a client planned to do with their purchase, the better. 

Of course, in the beginning, she had at least vetted those buyers extensively to make sure that they were going to be just as meticulously careful as she was herself. Gradually, however, her unyielding insistence on quality, trustworthy clientele eased just so long as they were willing to pay her price. 

This fellow in particular was willing to pay whatever she asked and then some. Ghoa didn’t even know his name, but the shine of his gil had been enough to convince her to agree to construct a toxin to his exactingly cruel specifications. And when she had finished, she had foolishly thought herself able to wash her hands of the unfamiliar man and his ill business.

That was, until a few suns later when the Radiant Host had dragged her from the lavish pillowhouse in which she had decided to celebrate a job well done and thrown her into this blighted cell. 

It was only during their interrogation that she had learned that her client had been a trader who had sought to exact vengeance upon a partner that had taken everything from him when their dealings turned south. It was with Ghoa’s toxin that he, in turn, had sought to take everything from his former partner in kind.. beginning with his family. Yet when his crime of passion had taken its own misstep and he found himself caught, her client had been all too quick to offer up the source of the horrific poison to lessen his own punishment.

Last she had heard from the Host, the former partner’s wife and child were still gravely ill. She had been offered leniency if only she would surrender to them the antidote to cure them of their grim affliction. If only she had thought to concoct one, Ghoa would’ve been glad to give it to them. But her clients never asked for antidotes, and she wasn’t wont to waste her own time and money on something for which they would not pay.

All that she had been able to offer to them was the poison’s formulation and the mechanisms by which it worked. That was the last conversation she had had with them, and by their silence whenever she asked after their condition whenever the guard stopped by to deliver her meals, she hadn’t high hopes that it had done aught to save them. 

By now, without a successful antidote, they assuredly would have succumbed to the poison’s effects. Given that the footsteps presently approaching her cell were coming between meal times, she assumed that it could only mean that someone was coming to inform her of this and to let her know her own punishment. 

Would she be locked in this cell for the rest of her days, she wondered grimly. Or would the Host not suffer a woman whose concoctions had so horrifically killed an innocent woman and child to live herself? A shudder went down her spine at the thought of execution. Though once upon a time she had welcomed death’s embrace rather than to be dragged back to be at Bayanbataar's mercy, the thought of leaving this world for the next now when her soul was so heavily blackened with her myriad sins filled her with a dreadful fright.

Finally, the footsteps drew close enough to draw her out of her racing thoughts with another, more unexpected realization. There was more than one set of steps present, but only one that seemed to be weighed down by the heavy armor the Host wore. Accompanying it, she could discern two more gaits:  one awkward and uneven, the other a short and furious staccato.

No, she thought as her blood went cold in her veins. Not them. Please, gods, not them..

But perhaps this was the worst punishment of all, and one the gods were intent to visit upon her.

Just as she had thought, the Radiant Host guard that rounded the corner to her cell was joined by two others. First was a stooped and hunched Raen man, his sallow face flushed with the obvious effort it had taken him to keep up with the others. In front of him was a figure far more frightening, though the older Hyuran woman was of far slighter stature than either of the men accompanying her.

Master Sarasvati Parikh was an alchemist without peer, possessing a professional reputation that was rivaled only by her notoriously foul, fiery temper. 

In her youth, she had been recruited into the High Crucible of Al-kimiya to serve Radz-at-Han with her impressive skill and knowledge of the aetherochemistry of the human body. Eventually, she had taken up the role of teaching and mentoring the next great generation of Hannish alchemists in her chosen field of study. That was, until she had been approached by a group of peers with an opportunity not only to expand upon their knowledge in the realm of alchemical warfare, but great profit besides. They had wanted to use her knowledge as the base upon which they built the alchemical weaponry their would-be client sought from them. 

She had not spared their feelings in expressing exactly how disgusted she was with each and every one of them for even considering it. Not only that, but Sarasvati had made it even clearer that any attempts to use her research in its pursuit would result in her withdrawing not only every single treatise and tome she had ever contributed to the Crucible’s archives, but also her considerable financial support. Though she dressed and lived in modest fashion, it was a well-known secret that she was a distant scion of the illustrious House Daemir and that most of both her earned and inherited fortunes she funneled right back into the Crucible her predecessors had founded.

Though these peers balked in the face of her threats and the deal had never come to fruition, her disgust that they had even considered it had been so great that she had never been able to put it aside. Her respect for those colleagues never returned, and it blackened the light in which she viewed at the rest of her peers as well. And so, Sarasvati had withdrawn not only from her role at the Crucible, but from the public eye near entirely to pursue her own good works in peace and privacy.

Any words that Ghoa might have summoned left her the moment her eyes met the withering, furious look cast down at her in her mentor’s own severe brown gaze. She tried to find something to say, some explanation or apology or..

“Leave us,” the elderly hyur snapped at the guard without ever breaking her glare. Though the man paused with hesitation, casting an unsure glance back at the equally uncomfortable Naseem behind her, he eventually offered a silent nod and stepped away to give them privacy.

Once he had made it out of earshot, the Mankhad scrambled to preempt whatever words were about to come.

“Master Sarasvati, I am–”

“You will not speak to me,” she interrupted in a hissing whisper that blazed with cold, bare fury. “You have squandered the right to address me ever again.” 

Ghoa instantly wilted under the rebuke’s sting. She dared not utter another word, managing only a weak nod as she dropped her gaze in shame. Yet even looking away did nothing to soothe the burn of the incensed glare that she still keenly felt fixed upon her.

“It is only by the Manusya’s divine wisdom and grace that I was able to save that poor family from succumbing to your black-hearted works. Though still they will be suffering and struggling to recover for weeks, if not moons to come because of your selfishness..”

The breath she had been holding released in a shuddering gasp of relief at the news that the mother and child yet lived. But even this reaction seemed only to infuriate her master further, apparently under the assumption that it was her own wellbeing for which Ghoa had been concerned.

“Do not allow yourself to believe for even a single moment that I did it for the sake of your life or your freedom,” Sarasvati snapped. “I did it because I was the one who took responsibility for you, educated you, and gave you the tools that you used to harm them. I might as well have been the one to pour that poison down their gullets myself.”

“N-no,” Ghoa suddenly gasped despite herself, gaze snapping back up in wide-eyed horror at the woman. “It wasn’t your–”

“I said SILENCE!” she all but roared with such ferocity that even the Host down the corridor perked up with concern, but hesitated to approach and turn that ire towards himself. 

“I labored without sleep for days because my conscience would not allow me to do otherwise. I was the one who created the monster that was nearly their undoing, and it was my moral obligation to save their lives!” She seethed openly, her dark cheeks red with anger, her hands shaking with barely contained rage. “If it were up to me, you would rot in here for the rest of your miserable days. Against my recommendation, however--” she spat the words out like they were the very same poison she had battled against, “--the Radiant Host has decided to release you back into my care.”

Ghoa foundered at that unexpected turn, uncertain what to say or how to feel. Truthfully, she didn’t know what hurt or terrified her more – the knowledge that her mentor had advocated for her continued imprisonment, or the idea of returning to her home with her. As if reading her very mind, Sarasvati’s gaze narrowed.

“You will never step foot inside my home again,” she snapped. “I’ve taken the liberty of having your belongings packed and set upon a ship bound for Eorzea that leaves at tomorrow’s first light.. Would that I could find somewhere even further across the world to fling you at such short notice.. I might rest easier with even more malms between us than that.”

Her stomach sank like a stone, and Ghoa reflexively found herself looking instead from her mentor to Naseem behind her as often it did when their mentor was in one of her rages. 

While Sarasvati’s gaze held nothing short of hateful contempt for her, her friend and fellow apprentice’s bore only resignation and heartbreak. He knew of the ghost that haunted her and though he knew not exactly what ill dealings she had gotten herself into because of it, he had tried his hardest to pull her back from the specter's grasp. He had never harbored even an onze of anger or disappointment towards her for her weakness, but only the desire to help his dear friend. Yet for all his good intentions and efforts, Ghoa had disappointed him in the end, too.

“I understand,” she whispered as she slumped back onto the cot, head hung in defeat and tears beginning to well behind her eyes. For a mercy, at least, they refused to fall in their presence.

“Do not return to Radz-at-Han,” Sarasvati finally ended her tirade, her words no longer alight with fire but back to their beginning cold, smoldering intensity. “She will be far better without you darkening her doorstep again.”

Ghoa nodded weakly in resigned silence. Though she dare not speak the words aloud to the mentor she had held in such high esteem for the past five years, the one who had taken a chance on her when none others would even give her the time of day.. 

She promised then that she would not return to Thavnair, just as she was bade. And she would not break a promise she had made to Sarasvati for a second time. 

[shaelstormchild]

Prompt 18: Reticent

Shael slid down the wall she had been leaning on, the tension that had held her muscles ready for the last few bells finally wearing upon the woman. She set her gun down next to her and pushed up the magitek goggles to sit atop her forehead, a deep frown taking permanent residence upon her visage since the moment she had entered the manse.

She had to keep going over all that she knew in her head, else the devastating news that Ghoa had shared about Nabi’s whereabouts would provide too sharp a distraction. And if she allowed that to happen, Shael knew she would give into the temptation to storm out the door in an instant, unleashing her fury upon anyone she came across. Whether they were complicit or not.

And while there was an insidious voice inside her that whispered that it was indeed her true desire, Shael managed to stay put, her glare boring into the door across the room, turning her focus onto the next steps.

Ghoa only knew the rough layout of the place, and certainly not the location of the Doctor’s laboratory where Nabi was being kept. If what Shael suspected was true, and this Doctor was conducting all manner of experiments on living people, this facility couldn’t be on the main floor or even the manse proper. If he had a habit of keeping a person in a cage, the room had to be fortified and hidden so that such deeds would escape notice. After all, they were in one of the wealthiest neighborhoods of Mist.

As Ghoa’s bedroom easily demonstrated, the normal quarters of the estate were visible and too easily accessible. This meant that the doctor’s workshop was elsewhere. It was possible that he hid it somewhere within the theater next to the manse. The building looked newer than the house itself, it could have been constructed within, or hidden below the structure. Or, since Mist had a deep winding sewer system below all the houses, there could be a basement or something deeper underground. And an old estate like this always had hidden passageways and doors.

There were too many unknown variables. And the more uncertain Shael became of her next steps, the more intrusive Ghoa’s earlier words became. He experiments upon her. She is being held caged.

Shael dug her fingers into the plush rug that spanned the entire room. She tore off a piece of the woven fiber, her own fingernail chipping at the edges from the harsh grip. But the pain made it easier for her to focus.

She couldn’t trust the handmaiden no matter what Ghoa’s impressions of her. But she was the best one to tap for the layout of the place, especially if the servant knew enough about how Nabi was being kept; she may have even been to the laboratory. Shael just might have to force herself to wait until the morning, when the maid delivers the items promised to Ghoa. If all things seem in order, then maybe they will trust her to outline a path to the laboratory.

Then of course, there was the matter of Ghoa’s own plan—of charging her own aether, to the brink of corruption level of instability, so that she could induce a fit in the Doctor’s sister. Ghoa was wagering that she could use either his sister as a bargaining chip for Nabi, or use her heightened aetheric abilities to unleash chaos upon the house, allowing Shael and Brick to do what they needed to do.

A risky bet, for sure, one that Shael would not have been in favor of, had the stakes not been so high. They didn’t have any other choice.

But they weren’t back in the fighting pits, where all that mattered was getting Nabi out alive, everyone else be damned. Back then, Shael would have easily left everyone else to their own fates. 

And now? Shael’s first priority was to get Nabi free—that was not in question. But it didn't end there. Just as she had left Anchor behind to keep him alive, she couldn’t leave Mankhad to fend for herself.

She just needed to figure out how to get all of them out alive.