• Closed • The Price of Currying Favour [Navyri]

[Djinn]

Chapter Two: The Blinded Leading the Blind

Shrivma's wide eyes followed Navyri as she moved, watching carefully every step she was taking. The grin seemed to intensify, though it did not have the lips to pull further apart. Instead, the silver glinted, though no light source shone directly on them. Shrivma's stare followed Navyri all the way to the howling Avriel, arms outstretched. The Anak's orbs pierced Navyri, even when she couldn't see them, and she could still feel the subtle insinuations Shrivma sent echoing through her mind.

As she began to tie Garizma, the Avriel resisted. He knew that his end was near, and he was not quite as happy about it as he would have had Navyri believe. He wanted the pain to end, the insinuations to stop... But he wanted to live. He hadn't fulfilled his objective yet... He hadn't found the Wings like Delroth had asked. He needed to succeed, to redeem himself... And so he screeched, swinging brass talons as Navyri's bare chest. None of them connected, but she could feel the cold metal as it passed by her skin. Goosebumps rose along her arms and chest.

Shrivma, for all his peculiarities, was a young Anak, born from the mutilation of Garizma. He did not understand the nature of the world, only Mutilation, and could not nearly have been prepared for Navyri's cunning deception. Garizma, who had closed his eyes to accept his fate, felt the whoosh as the Naerikk whipped around, throwing the sack out towards the shadowy creature. Shrivma, caught off guard, did not even attempt to move. Instead, the sack flew right over its head. In triumph, Navyri slid the mouth of the sack closed and lifted it... And it was empty.

Behind her, Shrivma reappeared. The screech from Garizma was the only warning she had, and when she turned, the Anak of Mutilation sped towards her. She had no time to react, no time to try and hide, behind the powerful hand wrapped around her forearm again. Immediately, wave after wave of despair washed over her, coating her mind in a paralytic toxin that demanded she do nothing else except harm herself. Garizma's screeching became a dull, ambient sound as the voice, her voice, told her to rip off her flesh. She began to slowly scratch at the skin of her wrists with her nail, and she could feel Shrivma's glee as it lapped gratefully at the Concept crashing from her in waves. The grip tightened, iron against her flesh.

Curio and Garizma both sprang into action, coming to Navyri's aid. The bird familiar swooped at Shrivma, clawing at its featureless face. From behind Garizma swung the bronze talons, crusted with his own dried blood. Shrivma, intent on feeding on Navyri as long as he could, fought them off with its free hand. The waves of agony kept washing over Navyri, and it wasn't long before the thoughts turned suicidal.

Slash your wrists. Cut out your liver. Flay yourself. They ebbed and flowed around her mind, and her body was unable to do anything but comply. Suffer. Suffer. Suffer. Suffer. Suffer. Suffer.

And she was overwhelmed. Shrivma finally released her, turning to face the two assailants head on. Garizma slashed again, this time missing the lightning-fast Anak, who lifted a palm and Stared at Curio, who froze in the air, suspended. Navyri, lost in her own whirlpool of self-destruction, could not understand that Curio was feeling the same swirling mire of emotion. When released from the Stare, Curio flew head-first down into the squishy peat of the bog, and was out of the fight.

But not Garizma. He slashed fiercely at the Anak, born from his misery. Bronze talons slashed through the thing, ripping holes that leaked an ethereal smoke of Concept. The smoke took form and shape, becoming a whip against Garizma. Still, the Avriel fought for the woman who had truly spared his life. The bronze of the talons kept releasing more of the Concept, which invaded the space around them. Navyri's nostrils filled with it, and all she could see in her own mind was her ripping the flesh from her torso as Garizma had done. She understood now. She understood.

But it didn't matter. Hands contorted into claws, Navyri raised her arms in a frenzy, scratching at her face and hair. Thin rivulets of blood ran down her face, but it was not enough. She clawed and clawed, but she wasn't doing enough.

Garizma's brass talons finally found the silver teeth of Shrivma, sending a loud and eerie moan through the room as the shadowy form dissipated. All twenty of the sharp silver teeth fell to the ground in a heap, glittering. Garizma, in triumph, looked to the Naerikk that had saved him... And was overcome with horror.

The same claws that ripped at her face now dug into the fleshy orbs in the sockets in her face, grabbing the eyeballs with sharp nails. Screaming in rage and pain, Navyri ripped the spheres from their homes, throwing them from her face and collapsing in a heap of pain and loss. The insinuations abated slowly, leaving her with a bloodied face, a gash on her left forearms... And no eyes.

Off Topic

Secret Achievement Unlocked!

Naerikk Know No Fear: By defying the shadowy Anak of Mutilation, you surprised both it and the moderator of this thread. Because I had intended for this to come into effect later, I had planned for something like this to happen, but am pleasantly surprised I got to use it so early. For unlocking this achievement, you have earned yourself another bonus loot, should the thread be completed successfully.

[Navyri]

• Common • Rakahi • Gravokian

"A greedy father has thieves for children."

• It had been wishful thinking… to believe something as sinister as the Shrivma could be captured by a pillowcase and quick thinking. Navyri had truly believed for a moment that she had done it - bringing the sack down upon the wicked creature with proud deception, until…
  
  Garizma screeched and Navyri barely turned her head when she was snatched at. Nothing but sorrow and self hatred filled her and she tried to pull away but its grip still held steadfast. The eye was rolling again, and her breathing picked up, distantly seeing the events around her, but uncaring. The scenes playing in her head - the urges - they kept her attention even as her familiar and the avriel fought with renewed strength. Each breath she took, the more of the dark smoke she inhaled from the Shrivma’s injuries and the more suicidal she felt.
  
  Nails turned to claws, overriding the ether of her illusion and pulling free her shadow form and the Naer began to tear at her arms with a frenzy. Black blood pooled at the injuries, each raking shredding the etched feathers lining her arms until a great frustration overtook her and she moved her attention to her face. Stinging pain tore through her cheekbones, and it only seemed to spur her on. She ripped at her face claws moving higher and higher; her connection with Curio drowned out by the seduction of her own conscious.
  Suffer. Suffer. Suffer.
  
  The barred owl flapped its wings wildly and changed directions, ramming into the pleat and laid unmoving upon the ground. Garizma continued his assault, and that was the last she remembered before turning her body and tearing at her eyes. She screamed, claws sinking into the socket and pulling. Something inside her skull gave a snap and she could no longer see the horror on the Avriel’s face as she threw the flesh from her, as if it were something sickening to behold.
  
  Navyri collapsed upon the ground, shaking and tearing at the flooring around her, hand brushing against the pillowcase and feeling its fabric. She clutched it, twisting it violently and hugging it to her torso as the remnants of the Shrivma’s influence began to dissipate. The Naer shook her head, as if it could rid her mind of the foreign presence faster, speckles of black blood flying from her. Pain radiated and as the haze in her mind began to lessen, she continued to gasp loudly as her mind silenced.
  
  And then… it was too quiet.
  
  Navyri had begun to bury her face in her hands when she realized that the mental link between her and Curio was… silent. Her breathing choked and she slowly looked up, staring past Garizma for she no longer could see him.
  
  The world was black, and even in her darkest moments, Curio had been her second eyes. He had been her scout… her companion. His presence was as welcome as her own within the confines of her skull, the feeling like a string tethered to her consciousness. She reached out to him now, tugging on the mental connection, but no reassuring buzz came to her. No flash of vision, or a brief emotion. Cold… Numbness. And yet, he was still there… But…
  
  “Curio.” she whispered, lip quivering as she used her free hand to feel the soft acidic ground, feeling the warm blood. Whether it as hers, Garizma’s or a mix, she didn’t know. She crawled forward, listening for the reassuring flap of his wings, and yet… She understood new senses. The slight scuff nearby to give away Garizma’s location, and she cocked her head in his direction, her voice picking up in desperation, “Curio!” Still, she felt nothing.
  
  Navyri tried to rise, body shaking from shock and agony. For a moment, she felt as if she would pass out, a great wooziness washing over her. She stumbled, falling back to the floor and continued to crawl with a motherly determination.
  
  Out her hands went, pawing at the space before her, feeling for something. She tried to remember some of the last images she saw and the direction Curio had been last… The same word played in her mind, the majority of the memory - Suffer - and she grit her teeth, still reaching out. And then…
  
  Something hard was under the hand that still clutched the cloth - a number of small rock-like things. Navyri paused, feeling them and had to recoil from their sharpness. They were… triangular… sharp…
  
  The Shrivma’s teeth.
  
  A growl reverberated in the Naer’s throat - but more vicious than the one she had offered Garizma when he had reached for her friend. Her only friend. Her heart began to ache - a feeling of loss… Of Mourning. Navyri reached out, scooping up a handful of teeth, accidentally grabbing bloodied feathers that stuck to her hands, and weighed them. She wanted to close her palm, to crush them in fury, but they would sooner destroy her flesh and instead, the dark-haired woman fiddled with her pillowcase, feeling the hem and pouring them inside. She had paid a price…. And intended to bring back something for it.
  
  The Naerikk continued to move, determined and fearful when she felt more feathers under her hands. They clung to her greedily. Logic argued they belonged to Garizma, but imagination made her wonder… She continued to feel, touching the Avriel’s wing and recoiling her hand. And then… she moved to the side, and as if sensing him… she came up short, hand gently resting on Curio’s unconscious body.
  
  A pained sound poured from her lips and she hurriedly set aside the bag, fingers feeling the medium bird for injury. Its wings were outstretched and she tenderly touched him, mouth open in worry as frustration began to build at her lack of vision. The feeling of loss returned and she screamed, tears springing to her the sockets as she came to terms with her predicament, quickly scooping up the familiar. She felt for injuries - any odd turnings of the neck or broken bones and gave another pained cry - like a mother having lost a child.
  
  She was blind… Blind and ugly and in pain… Without even her best friend… Her only friend. Navyri began to sob, tugging at the mental bond and folding Curio’s wings against his body with tenderness. She closed her eyelids, stroking him and cradling him to bury her face in the feathers of his neck. His smell was familiar and it only hurt her heart more. Sweet boy. Please… Please…
  
  She had to fix this… She had to…
  
  Navyri listened and tried to find Garizma, her voice barely above a whisper, as she tried to calm down, “You said… To fix you or to kill you… How do we fix you?” She resented this… She resented this place. But she needed the Avriel now more than ever. She needed his knowledge and his help, but feared it was too late. Had the fight been his last? Would his infection overcome him? Would she die here alone?
  
  (We need to find Delroth. We need to get his wings. He can fix this. He can fix Curio! Please, Delroth, please!) Navyri cradled her familiar in one arm like a sleeping infant and grabbed the sack, rising to her feet. It was an unsteady action, and she did not fall but found a wall to lean on for support.
  
  “Garizma. Tell me.” In another time, no doubt Navyri’s voice would have cracked from heartache, but today it held strong, spurred by vehemence and sorrow, half worried the Avriel had finally sucummbed to his injuries, “I have to find them.”
  
  The Wings.
  
  Their only chance.

[Djinn]

Chapter Two: The Blinded Leading the Blind

Garizma, for all his madness and melancholy, stopped moving and whimpering during Navryi's tender moments with Curio. The silence, growing ever more loudly, seemed to embrace the Naerikk and her Feathered Friend, wrapping them in an impenetrable shroud that sound could not permeate. There they sat for what could have been an eternity, the Naerikk holding the limp body of the bird in her hands. And Garizma, from a metre away, stood sentinel while she grieved.

But it would not last, and Garizma watched as the Naerikk's eyeless face rose to meet his, sending shivers down his spine. Wingless, mutilated and bleeding, and the woman on the ground clutching her bird companion was enough to cause the feathers to bristle. He could feel the determination, the anger and the bitterness, and it wasn't until she asked him that he seemed to break his reverie. It wasn't the same Garizma she'd observed thus far... Instead, this one seemed more sure, more disciplined. Stretching his shoulder blades, sending a spear of pain through his back, he clucked angrily.

"Him, my dear. Him. Him. Him. The Man in Red." Garizma's throat made a strange growl at the man's thought, sending a shiver through Navyri's spine. "He has The Wings. Delroth's wings." The Wings. He suddenly lunged at her, wrapping his hands softly around her bicep, helping her to her feet. He was surprisingly gentle, despite the brass talons around his fingers. They scraped together, the sound of metal on metal reverberating in her ears.

"But the Man in Red... He can't be found. He doesn't exist. He doesn't. He doesn't. But he can, can't he? He has to." She could hear his eyelids clicking together as he blinked rapidly, each sounding like sticky flesh ripping apart. The click-click of the eyelids echoed in her ears, as if it were the first time she'd ever heard it. It was as clear as the suns, when she could see them. It was unnerving, but she could look past it. For the right price.

"Let me explain. This place... It's not a place. I mean, it is. But it isn't. And when it is, it houses things. Terrible things. Him. Him. Him." Him. The Man in Red, The Thief. And Garizma, stuttering through his explanation, was not clarifying anything.

"He came, the Man in Red. He came and he stole the Wings. Arithzma, the First. And then he took Them. The Wings." He stopped and shuddered, calming himself as much as a he could. "The Wings were Delroth's, but only in name. They belonged to an Avriel... Arithzma. The First. The Silver-Feathered. And the Man in Red... He murdered him. He stole them. He stole them." The Avriel's tone was frenetic, reaching a terrifying crescendo of panicked chirps and screeches.

"But me, I know where he is. Yes, yes I do. I know where he is and isn't. I know, and I can take you. I can lead you." His voice was smooth and calm, the most collected she'd heard him since meeting him. "You saved me from it, from myself. I will lead you, and you'll see... Well, not see... But you'll meet the Man in Red, and maybe you can convince him to give you the Wings. Or he'll kill you and take your bones for his soup."

He sounded as nonchalant as a child talking about an ant, and she felt a gentle tug at her arm.

"Bring your bird. He will get better. I can feel it."

Off they set, heading towards the Man in Red, the blind leading the blinded.

[Navyri]

• Common • Rakahi • Gravokian

"A greedy father has thieves for children."

• It was strange to hear and not see, to feel the brass talons of Garizma gently encase her forearms and lift her to her feet. She was tense under his touch, still unsure what to think of the creature whose mind had been tatters bits before. But now… His speech patterns were repetitive, and slightly unstable, but… stronger than they had been before. If Shrivma’s influence had faded from her mind and she was already trying to recover, than it was likely the same for the Avriel before her. How long he had dealt with the Anak… that was entirely unknown.
  
  Garizma had said to bring Curio, that he had a good feeling about his recovery. This gave her a flash of relief, as she still felt their mental teether. It had not been severed and with that, she nodded in appreciative silence.
  
  She was allowing him to lead her but stopped abruptly, “Earlier, you said him, not him. You meant Arithzma. I had wondered...” (Arithzma) She mentally replayed the name, hand unconsciously stroking the familiar in her hand to soothe herself. Everything was so complicated, “Wait,”
  
  Out of habit, Navyri turned her head as if looking for something and felt the same frustration wash over her and redden her cheeks in anger, “I need them. My eyes... You need… Your wings...I just,” What, exactly? The Naer wiped at the tears that had created little trails through the black, inky substance that had washed down her face and smeared itself across her breasts like terrifying warpaint. The sheet tied at her hip was splattered with speckles of darkness, the hem stained with maroon. If the Avriel looked closely, he might have noticed the faintest parts of her dark blood fading into tendrils of shadow. The process was slow, almost unrecognizable, and Navyri was aware of the great need for sleep.
  
  She wanted to go back down the hallway and curl up. The urge to rest, much like the first time she had used her Gift of Shadows. She… was drained.
  
  The Naer reached out, hands blindly feeling the Avriel’s forearm as she listened to the meticulous clicking that made shivers run up her spine, “We need to get you healed. Treated and bandaged. Your wounds…” The strength in her voice softened slightly, but there was a firmness to her words, “You have a terrible infection and you’ve lost a lot of blood.” Were all Avriel this strong? Or was this one special, some previously chosen agent of Delroth? Whatever it was… Garizma’s ability to continue on was awe inspiring.
  
  Navyri’s resolve returned and she wondered what chance they had at persuading any Man in Red or opposing him in their condition now, “I think we should recover, or you will die. What good is sacrifice if we perish on the way? There was a house,” her voice trailed off and she wondered what other paths she had seen, when she was still capable of doing so, “Did you see it? They must have medicine or bandages. Maybe some rare herbs that could help soothe the pain. Maybe-” She stopped short, not able to bring herself to offer either of them a solution to her problems. To say that there could be something or someone who was capable of restoring the Avriel’s wings would have been cruel without delivery.
  
  She listened to the clicking of metal, “What do you think?”

[Djinn]

Chapter Two: The Blinded Leading the Blind

Though she couldn't see it, Garizma perked his head to the side when she mentioned a house. Garizma knew of a house, yes, but it was not full of medicine and bandages. No, instead it was full of emptiness and loneliness and loathing. A cage for a bird, a bird without wings. It was a place of torture and corruption, where the new beasts could be subjected to mental and physical anguish to craft them into the predators they would become.

It wasn't a house: It was a laboratory.

But still, Garizma said nothing. Navyri, for her blindness, was being kind enough to find him aid, and he would help her in the task, even if it proved fruitless. They had time, after all. The stubs on his back did not hurt, not physically, and he was not concerned for the infection. A soft hand reached out, placing a brass-talon on Navyri's shoulder.

"Perhaps. Fear not for me, I am His. His. His. His. I am going to be saved. He will restore me. He will. He will. Come." And gently, he began to guide her from the chamber the same way that she came in. She could tell the ground was beginning to slope upward, and she could approximate how far they were from the crossroads she'd come to earlier from there. It was a strange sensation, being able to sense the world around her without being able to visually identify the slight changes that were happening. She knew them, but it was more an instinct than it was anything else.

"This Man in Red... It is unlike anything you've ever seen before. He's not a man, in a sense. He is. But he isn't. He isn't. He isn't. He is something else entirely, and when you met him, you will understand. Understand, but perhaps not know."

Garizma spoke to distract Navyri from her plight, but it did not work. With every step, she was acutely aware of the loss of vision and what it meant. She was aware of Curio's limp form in her hand. She was aware of the bogs changing around her, though only in the way that one subtly knows something is changing around them when their eyes are closed. She could feel it in her, but couldn't replace the desire for visual perception. It was jarring.

"He knew Arithzma, this Man in Red. Knew him. Knew him. Do you know the history of my people? Do you? Have you learned it?" Garizma grinned, but Navyri didn't see it. She didn't want to, for it was the manic grin of a person whose history was doomed before it was written.

"The Immortals who fought over the humans of this world, they left much devastation in their wake. Entire populations were killed or horribly decimated, and all in the name of eternal power struggle. But one Immortal, he took for himself a group of humans and he brought forth through them a race of mortals he could be proud of. Delroth. Delroth. Delroth. He took the bones of the fallen humans and brought us into this world as great, terrifying amalgamations of the two things he saw. And when he did, something happened... We were different. Primal. Instinctual. Predatory. We were not the Vanguard that he had hoped to create in order to remain victorious in the war that raged around him. We were abominations, experiments gone awry, useless machinations of a greedy mind whose resolve faltered at finding that all that glitters wasn't golden. And so he cast us off, this Immortal, this creator. He ran from us in horror. And the first of us he created... Resentment grew in his heart."

Garizma paused, allowing the words to sink into Navyri. This Immortal who saved her from starvation, who gave her the gift of the birds and the winds... This Immortal whose name she praised whenever she accomplished something... He was the negligent creator. He left to their own devices an infantile race of beasts, hoping that nature would render them extinct.

"At our abandonment, we stayed together as the flock we were. We hunted. We killed. We thrived. And Delroth, he did not know. He never looked back on us, the monstrous creations left for dead, but we spited him. And when Lisirra and Syroa found us... We were hunters. Predators. We were wild and untamed. But they had a vision for us. They saw us. They saw us. They wanted us."

Garizma's voice grew quieter, but Navyri's ears still picked up the sound. Without her eyes, her ears had become slightly more sensitive, and picking up Garizma's ramblings was easier. She could even sense both the bitterness and the awe in his voice, and it made the her flesh crawl.

"The first they took was Arithzma, The Silver-Feathered. They took him. They tortured him. They unleashed in him the base predatory instincts all of us had, and then they took and twisted that. They tried to make him theirs. But they failed. Arithzma was the First, and of those beasts who emerged and horrified our creators, he was the Last. Discarded by Delroth, and then once again by Lisirra and Syroa, Arithzma departed from our flock. He was unassailable and couldn't be warped like the rest of us were. He was Pure and Silvery. He set off in search of Delroth, flying to the highest mountain peaks and the lowest points in valleys. He hunted Delroth as if Delroth were a field mouse scurrying from him under the hawk's watchful eye. But Delroth evaded Arithzma, out of fear and cowardice. But Arithzma was not to be deterred. His resolve was pure and solid, and he would find Delroth. But he didn't. He didn't. He didn't."

Garizma stopped, both talking and walking. They had come to the six-path crossroads, and the mutilated Avriel turned Navyri so that she was facing the paths as she was when she first encountered them.

"Instead, the Man in Red found him. Which path?" Garizma knew where the house was, but he wanted Navyri to make the choice. He would not be responsible for her death. Only she could do that.

[Navyri]

• Common • Rakahi • Gravokian

"A greedy father has thieves for children."

• Garizma did not comment on the house, but was quick to soothe her interest about his form. He seemed unconcerned about his own injuries, and her brow furrowed. Had she seen correctly? Had he not ripped off appendages and peeled back his own skin? No - She had smelled his rotting flesh… It had been real. Even now, she felt the sickness lingering, but Garizma reassured her he would be restored.
  
  He was His.
  
  (Whose?) Navyri opened her mouth to ask, but Garizma’s hand was moving to her shoulder and began guiding her away, towards to the hallway she had entered from. She hesitated, pulling away to fall to the ground and pat around, searching for her eyes. When she touched one, it inspired her to continue her plight and she found the other, two orbs coated in black blood, luminous blue irises peeking through the liquid shadow. Her sack wrapped around her wrist, Curio tucked against her like a sleeping infant, and her eyes now in one hand, she rejoined the Avriel who was content with leaving his wings discarded like trash. It was so strange, but his hand found her shoulder again, and when he spoke, he weaved a story so captivating that she almost forgot of her blindness.
  
  She could see the events playing vividly in her mind, that when the pleat started to slope and they entered the hallway she had darkened, a shuddering gasp of relief left her. She could feel the shade encase her, her body joining it the further away they moved from the light. A great urge to stop and push away Garizma seized her and she had to grit her teeth to resist it. Even as she felt her body embracing the essence around her, her instincts telling her to rest.
  
  Garizma’s words helped chase these feelings away, beginning a tale of the Avriel - of their beginning and of their abandonment. Given the name, she imagined Arithzma as having great silver wings and furrowed her brow. It was no secret Naer were created by the Immortal Audrae, but how did her own race come into creation? And when? Navyri tried to recall the old stories she had been told in her earliest years, but it had been so long ago that the memories conjured images of her grandmother speaking, but the words unknown.
  
  She couldn’t remember them…
  
  Navyri continued to listen to Garizma’s tale, stumbling as she mentally tried to trust the Avriel to lead her correctly. She was unfamiliar with relying so much on the senses of another, the closest to a confidant being Curio. Still, he lead them easily, his voice holding subtle tones that her new ears were beginning to grow attuned to. From his behavior and the story… would not Garizma hate Delroth as the others did? So… who was going to restore him?
  
  The Man in Red?
  
  “Which path?”
  
  They had stopped and Navyri weighed her eyes in her hand, suddenly unsure what sort of bird this guide was. If he said not to worry about him, then she wouldn’t. Doing so… it made her look weak in comparison, “You know quite a bit about this, Garizma. You follow him? The Man in Red?” Even as she spoke, she could feel the chilling mist run along her skin, her feet damp from the earth underneath. Her words weren’t accusatory, after all, had she not turned from her own creator? Instead, she listened to the sounds around her. What path… What path..?
  
  “Take me down the one that leads to Him.”
  
  There was no turning back now. Navyri set her shoulders, knowing there was no time for detours. Not now. Not after all she had already seen, and the things she had yet to experience. It occurred to her, quite easily, that despite saving Garizma’s life, he could be leading her to destruction. Before the Shrivma, he had been trying to snatch at Curio. He had been so angry. Now that his mind was his, what stopped him from hiding his ulterior motives like her own race?
  
  Delroth, he had cried. Delroth. Navyri mentally whispered the name to herself, like a mantra that could keep her sane. She wanted to go home, or better yet, return to the bed that had embraced her earlier. The Immortal of Greed may have abandoned his children, but he had chosen her.
  
  (Naerikk feel no fear.)

[Djinn]

Chapter Two: The Blinded Leading the Blind

Garizma clicked the brass talons together in disapproval at Navyri's question. She could tell from the sound and the silence of the Avriel himself that she had insulted him, though she could not understand why. Instead, Garizma weighed his words carefully before responding to the Naerikk who couldn't see the pain on his face.

"I have been here a long time. A long time. And when you're here and there as much as I have been, you learn to open your ears as much as your eyes. But no, I do not 'follow' him, not by the same standards you'd suggest. I do not. I do not. I don't."

They continued to walk, and the mutilated Avriel fell quiet. Only the heaving of his chest and the rhythmic clicking of his talons could be heard as they progressed through the marshy terrain. Quite a few times, Navyri stumbled from a sludgy spot or tripped over the rotting carcass of a tree that once may have stood magnificently to be witnessed by those with vision. Instead, now, it laid as a cumbersome obstacle for those who did not.

Twice, Navyri heard Garizma inhale as if he were about to speak, but twice he failed to do so. He was not forthcoming, and she got the sense that he was hiding something from her. Instead, though, he just gently led her along. Closer and closer to the house they got, and something inside Navyri grew. Naerikk felt no fear… But they knew when others were afraid. It was more tangible around Garizma than even the scent of his metallic blood clinging with infection. With every step, the talons loosened their grip on her shoulder, and soon she was walking nearly unguided. The path was ominously clear.

Each step slowed Garizma a little as well. She could tell that they were coming to a stop, though before a massive wrough-iron gate she did not know. When he finally stopped moving, Garizma clucked, more chicken than man at this point.

“I feel the need to be honest with you. Honest. Honest. Because you have saved me from Shrivma… And… And because what is to come is not what you will expect. Inside this dwelling, you will find the Man in Red. It will ask something of you. He always does. And when he does, you will comply, or you will be allowed to leave. Should you find and acquiesce the Man in Red, he will give you what you seek. But do not be fooled. Fooled. Fool. The Man in Red is no friend. Not now. Not ever.”

Navyri heard as Garizma reached out, the brass talons sounding like metal grinding against metal on the gate. He fiddled with a lock, which Navyri could not have known was not locked to begin with, then shoved the gate open. An eerie creek accompanied the motion, and it sent electricity through Navyri’s body.

Naerikk feel no fear. But they know when others feel it, and right now… The entire marsh felt it.

She could feel it radiating from her surroundings, gradually building as she began her trek to the house. She knew instinctively that this is where Garizma would leave her, and he did so wordlessly. Reaching out, she’d feel naught but air and palpable tension. The ground itself was even, allowing her a safe passage from the gate to the massive mansion, around forty yards. She walked, slowly, blindly, towards her destination, each step brining with it a growing sense of dread. Something was amiss.

But Naerikk don’t feel fear.

Stumbling into the first marble step, Navyri crawled her way up all twelve, coming to rest on the front porch or a bit or two after. Her shin was throbbing from where she’d smashed it into the marble, but she carried on anyway. After losing her eyes, the pain of a bruised shin was little more than a nuisance. Coming to stop in front of the door, she hesitated. Naerikk don’t feel fear. But she was smart enough to know that she should.

The door opened silently, swinging inward on hinges that made no sound but had not moved in a century. She could feel the presence of the Man in Red, pulsating and encompassing, surrounding her as she tentatively entered the abode. It was a pervasive presence, both unique and bland, obvious and subtle. She could feel it drawing her further in, but she was repulsed by the smell of the air around her and the grittiness she could feel in the air. The place had been undisturbed. She could feel the slight give as the inches of dust beneath her feet gave each step a springiness, not quite so pronounced as the peat outside, but noticeable. Especially to Navyri’s sensitive senses.

Inside her chest, a rumbling began. It pulsated, starting low in her chest and rising to the base of her throat. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump thump thump thump. It hit. It rebounded and echoed inside her. It swelled and threatened to overtake her. And then… It stopped.

Except for a subtle humming coming from the floor. A quick investigation showed a glowing red light emanating from the cracks, and a small trap-door outlined in the red. She couldn’t see the light… But she could feel it. She could feel that it was red. She could feel that it was emanating. She knew.

It was the Man in Red.

[Navyri]

• Common • Rakahi • Gravokian

"A greedy father has thieves for children."

• Garizma was displeased, but Navyri found that communication was quickly hindered without the ability to gauge body language. She could neither feel, nor see, the way the Avriel scowled, and so she did not understand how offensive her line of questioning was. “Honest?”
  
  She had trudged through a marsh, tripped over roots and felt the oppression of fear around her, so thick she thought she would choke on its very presence, and now… Now Garizma wanted to be honest? About what? Her lips thinned in displeasure, on edge from the palpable tension and lack of sight. “What?” Garizma’s fingers continued to click click click, the sound maddening and almost causing the Naerikk to hiss in annoyance. It felt as if electricity was in the humid marsh air, threatening to explode from the tension.
  
  He spoke of the Man in Red, her brows furrowing at a very specific detail, “It?” Garizma’s taloned hand had removed itself from her and she was alone, “What do you mean, offering?” But the bird man said nothing, fiddling with a lock hastily. Its creak sent a shock down her spine, goose flesh igniting across her bare skin. A sense of foreboding pressed against her, like a weight on her shoulders almost too much to carry, but the Avriel was silent.
  
  Garizma was too scared… Too chicken to follow through… But not her, not the Naerikk who felt no fear. Was this why she was chosen?
  
  Navyri’s head turned towards her destination, staring as if she could see it, debating her options and then her feet began to lead her to the house. She stubbed her toe on the stairs and then her shins, having to catch herself with her forearm as her hands were full. The pain here was miniscule compared to her self-inflicted cruelty and she continued to climb and crawl, dust tickling her nose and clinging to her palms. Every footstep kicked up dust that tickled her that threatened to make her sneeze. Navyri had closed her lids, ears opening as Garizma had suggested.
  
  She felt the hum coming from the ground, the red light hitting her skin. It was a strange sensation, never noticing it before, but the ether kept her illusion in tact guided her in its direction and she moved towards it, uncomfortable. While she was unable to see the light, the Naer could only imagine the red essence and crept forward, feeling the trap door beneath her bare toes. Navyri reeled back, lowering herself into the layers of ancient dust. The Naer tucked her eyes in the arm carrying Curio and with her newly freed hand, she patted at the floor, brushing away the grim, and stopped, craning her neck.
  
  “Hello?” she whispered, and sucking in a breath of shaky confidence, she knocked on the trap door, reaching for the handle. Navyri had a bad feeling about this.

[Djinn]

Chapter Three: The Man in Red

The tension in the air was palpable, and Navyri could feel the moment her hand clasped around the rung to the trapdoor. As soon as the illusion of her flesh wrapped around the small iron handle, a searing pain shot through her left arm. Looking down at the flesh provided by her illusion, an angry red mark had grown there like she had red-hot chains lain on the flesh. It wrapped from her wrist to her elbow, steaming slightly, though she couldn't see it. She tried to yank her hand back, but found that she couldn't. She may not have had eyes, but in that moment, she could see in her mind clearly what was happening before her. It was as if whatever entity had provided the searing mark was also showing her the surroundings.

Over the door she was touching, razor-thin red lines appeared, wrapping quickly and efficiently into a circle with a marking inside. The sigil, one of binding and holding, slowly glowed red, the light seeming to seep up from beneath. Navyri could not let go of the handle, could not slam the lid shut and rearm the sigil. She just held, everlong, as the force from below slowly pushed up the lid.

And Belaera emerged.

Time stopped, and Navyri was there, frozen. Belaera, silently, rose from the portal below, the smell of old and musk rising from the ground and permeating the room. Navyri, try as she might, could not move. She could feel Belaera's presence, true and unhindered now, brushing against her consciousness. In that moment, Navyri felt the stirring of Curio, as well, but something was amiss. He wasn't corporeal at the time... Something Belaera was doing was messing with her connection to Delroth.

A sense of elation washed from the ancient Immortal, rolling over Navyri and temporarily lifting her spirits. It wasn't her emotion to feel, but she felt it nonetheless. She felt wrong... More naked than she actually was. She felt as if she were looking into the intimate void of the Immortal's psyche, but she couldn't help it. Belaera couldn't help it. It had been more than six hundred arcs since she'd been released from her prison, and she was unsure the level of her influence could have on the landscape. Navyri, though, instinctively knew... What was before her was powerful.

And she was a part of it.

Belaera's hand rose, blue-tinted flesh covered by a red-and-blue robe. The pale-blue flesh, looking like that of a strangled man, looked fresh and lively, not at all like she had been sealed underneath the sigil for as long as she had. Navyri couldn't see the hand coming towards her, but she knew it was there. In her head, a voice sounded. It was not loud and booming, nor was it a whisper. It sounded neither male nor female, but was an androgynous sound that rang too clearly in her mind. She did not recoil, did not pull away, though she now could if she wanted to. Belaera was released, and so too was her hold on Navyri.

"At last."

The sound was dry and cracked, belying the amount of time Belaera had been locked away. The pale-blue hand lit on Navyri's left arm, and the searing pain abated immediately. More importantly, though, she flickered in and out of her shadow form, and while she was in it, her eyes reformed. As the illusion came back, she could see again, and what she beheld sent a shockwave of awe through her.

Standing before her, Belaera was a true sight to behold. Eleven feet tall, she was covered head to toe in a red shroud. A mask, shining in the dim red light, held no facial features but instead had beady eyes through with the red light was showing. No mouth, no nose... Just the glowing pin-pricks of her eyes, staring down at Navyri. The hands hand fallen back to her side, unnaturally long so that her fingertips touched her knees, which were centered in strange and spindly legs. An aura of power radiated out from her, sweeping over the Naerikk as she stood in awe. Her eyes fell on her own arm, which had coloured the flesh of her illusion strangely. The mark mingled with the feathers of her Tarouz blessing, turning them blood red in spots. The aesthetic was disturbingly pleasing to Navyri, who could not return her eyes back to the terrible majesty of Belaera. Though she didn't need to.

"At last. It has been too long since I have walked the face of this world. Too long have I been locked there, awaiting my champion to release me. My champion... This is you, daughter of Audrae. You have, whether knowingly or not, released me from my self imprisonment, and are here to fulfill the destiny I have seen written in the tapestry of nature. You, daughter of Audrae's daughter, will be my foothold in this world."

From behind her, Navyri sensed movement. Garizma, who showed such terror outside the gate, stood brazenly, flesh still hanging from his body. The beady pinpricks of red light that were Belaera's eyes fell on him, and again, Navyri felt a wave of elation. This one, however, was tempered by a control that Navyri could not ascribe a name to. It was just... Utmost.

"And you, Garizma... You have served me well. Come, stand by my side and claim your reward." Garizma showed no hesitation. He came to stop by Belaera's side, and she laid another hand on him. In the blink of an eye, his flesh was restored, creamy white and smooth. It showed no mars from his self-mutilation, and his wings regrew in an instant. He spread them before Navyri, and they were massive and golden-white. Streaks of silver flecked them. If she were not a Naerikk, she would have wept, such was the beauty in this wings. Garizma fell to his knees, weaker than the Shadow Daughters. His sobs grew more frequent as he realized he was released from his duty. His Sacrifice was accepted. He was free.

"I am Belaera." The voice sent shivers through Navyri's spine.

[Navyri]

• Common • Rakahi • Gravokian

"A greedy father has thieves for children."

• There was hot pain and the inevitability of surrender.
  
  Navyri was neither able to release that of which caused her agony, her arm igniting with blood red swirls that swept up her arm and stained the marked feathers already there, nor stop the inevitable wave of elation that overpowered her entire mind. It was a rush, an intoxicating high felt through the senses of another. Strange and sudden, a strangled sound of pain escaped her lips, lost in the magic the shifted as a new sigil realigned itself upon the lid of the door. She could feel it, and then the presence of Belaera emerged, separating her mind from Curio and sending her emotion into her. Unknown or not, Navyri could only describe the experience as receiving an abundance, pouring a liquid into a glass to the point of overflowing. She was gasping, feeling the intimacy of the exchange and the pain that came with it. She was helpless to it, the conflicting emotions tangling together in a heap within her skull.
  
  The power that emanated before her reached out, the Naer sensing it until it rested it upon her arm and the pain ceased all at once, her body flickering between her two forms as if it couldn’t make a decision. The black blood that had coated her body pulled away like tendrils of smoke weaving upwards and forming her eyes. Everything felt ethereal, and then - vision was restored and Navyri looked upon the face of a god.
  
  At last.
  
  Red was the first color she saw, blinding her in eleven feet of pressing majesty. Pinpricks of glowing red eyes stared at her behind the featureless mask, haunting her as they laid upon her. The Naerikk’s mouth parted and had she been standing, she would have stumbled backward in awe. Belaera spoke, the voice neither too rich or too soft, captivating, “At last. It has been too long since I have walked the face of this world. Too long have I been locked there, awaiting my champion to release me.
  
  Champion? Navyri could not bear to speak, only listened, confused and interested in the power before her.
  
  “My champion... This is you, daughter of Audrae. You have, whether knowingly or not, released me from my self-imprisonment, and are here to fulfill the destiny I have seen written in the tapestry of nature. You, daughter of Audrae's daughter, will be my foothold in this world.”
  
  Garizma was called forth next, and Navyri was admiring the way her arm had changed, looking at the new pattern. It tinged Delroth’s image with something more, and whether or not the Vanity Immortal would appreciate the changes to his design was difficult to say. Everything had begun to felt surreal and she watched Garizma, a hand lifted to touch her brow as if disbelieving her returned vision. The Naer began to smile and then covered her mouth, Garizma’s wings exploding outwards in glorious beauty. Such was the creation of her followed Immortal - each detail feather a wondrous golden white - pure and shocking to her very core.
  
  The power she had released spoke while the Avriel wept, looking at her once more, “I am Belaera.”
  
  It took Navyri only a moment to find her voice, lowering herself in respect, face almost touching the floor when she lifted back up and introduced herself. You did not keep something like this waiting, “I am Navyri.” Her own voice sounded breathless.
  
  She didn’t know what to say or how to word her thoughts, Garizma having warned her of the Man in Red. He is no friend. Not now. Not ever.
  
  “I-” She was going to tell Belaera about the Wings, but paused to chew on her lip in thought, “You have seen destiny?” Did this being know what was to come of her? Would she return home to Augiery? Was this her purpose? “I-I was brought here by Delroth and then lead by Garizma to meet you. To find the Wings. But… I did not expect everything that you are. You are… much more than I could ever imagine.”
  
  Navyri was not sucking up, nor insulting - truly, Belaera was not a power she could have predicted. Not in this life, or the next. It seemed with each Immortal she met, she was dwarfed by their presence and inadequate in comparison. How… How was she to be anyone’s champion? What power did she release back into the world and was it ready for it?