Scientific Sorcery : 38 Aclard Dulsea

-=[Callista Leisl]=-

After dinner and another round of incredibly delicious water, I passed out on a bench in Ioan’s pub atop a pile of cloths extracted from my damaged Sleigh. As my mind sank into the mire of sleep, I prayed to the White Lynx and Goldara that the damage from touching so much dragonglass would vanish by the time I woke, as it miraculously had before.

As per usual, my dreams weren’t the nicest sort. 

However, instead of being hurled across the forest by the Star-Eater, I discovered that I was still on the bench, but not entirely asleep, stuck somewhere between the moment of lucidity and the veil of sleep.

The sensation of being awake and aware increased and yet my body didn’t move the tiniest bit.

I tried to yell, tried to move, but no sound came out from my lips.

The air felt thick with a suffocating terror of something foul. Dark shadows danced just beyond my field of vision. There, lurking in the periphery, a sinister figure loomed—a creature with glowing yellow eyes, a haunched figure woven from darkness itself.

The thing watched me as if it was feeding off my fear. As I lay paralyzed, unable to flee or fight, the edges of reality blurred even further, pulling me deeper into this nightmarish limbo. Each attempt to move was met with cold, uncooperative limbs. I felt a prisoner within my own mind.

The monstrous thing moved forward and suddenly sat atop my chest. 

Up close, its flesh was a patchwork of rotting flesh, bulbous inside out organs and blackened bones, its eyes glowing yellow embers in the darkness that surrounded us. The thing's limbs were a grotesque tangle of gnarled roots and barbed thorns, ending in jagged uneven claws, like a framework of black roots holding together organs that were in the process of falling out.

"I sssnound you, little claimer-she," the monstrosity rasped, its voice woven from a cadre of fingernails scraping against fingernails. "Feeble fickler, Seeker of the Wormwood-she, daring to pliddle with Underside whistweave."

I tried to speak, to demand answers, to plead for mercy, but the words would not leave my throat. The thing's yellow eyes somehow held me captive, draining me of all will and strength.

“Speaketh,” the thing said, scraping a long, grotesque finger along my lips.

"Wha... what are you?" I managed to hiss out as my mouth unfroze.

"Chrizantia Malekai, my definery be," the thing gurgled, "Root-walker of the deep-dark, master of abyss. The Gygr of the Shalish whisperbog. And you, little catling, roam the land that was meant to be rightfully mine."

I simply blinked at her and then my mind snapped to the word I recognized. A Gygr, a void-born abomination from Nordstaii legends, a shadow-being of the Abyss, the worshiper of Nox, a thing from Ioan’s Book of Monsters.

"Etch mine name in your skullpan, catling," the Gygr snarled. "For when my Jotun-brood sniffing yorr flesh, they shall peel you scrap by scrap, and drag you to mine squelch rootlair ‘neath the ground wherein you shall reborn-be as mine new shadow-hand that reaches from the bog.”

The thing extended a hand wrapped with a hundred finger-roots, a single, fleshy finger extending to caress my forehead. Stinging, blindingly painful cold danced across my nerves.

"Listen-heed, mine seedling," the Gygr hissed. "Svalbard should have slept. All should have perished. Alas… something-ling tore through my chorus-web, permitted one to live, to carry the all, all which should have been mine to harvest! Tell me who else there resides!”

“What is she ranting about? Svalbard… Ioan? The Champion I failed to bind?” I thought.

“Ioan, the he-Champion of yorr?” the Gygr repeated in my own voice as if she pulled the thought from my head. “A… manling hero? Why have mine Jotun not smelled he?”

I choked, tried to think of nothing but the Star-Eater, focused my thoughts on the memory of the worst worst day of my life, so as not to reveal more things to this void-born abomination.

The creature's hand extended, an irregular number of elbows unfolding out, fingers unfurling apart like the roots of a tree. Jagged fingers tightened themselves around my throat, its touch burning, painfully cold as if someone poured glacier ice over my neck.

"Mark your days, little catling," the Gygr’s face twisted into a grotesque approximation of a smile, the teeth of an inverted skull shimmering from within with a yellow glow. "Tally your paltry triumphs against the whisperweave that birthed you. Your fumbleploys are naught but a blindworm wriggling in the Song of the Void caressing the Underside. You are she who weaves wrong-sense without the rootknowledge or skillcraft to do so, spinning lies into a tapestry of false-shine."

I wasn’t wrong… I was the brightest Sorceress of my generation, the Leisl Searcher! I had an emerald diploma from the Iridium Istra Maggelanum!

"Listen-heed, seeker of Wormwood songs," the Gygr hissed, her voice whistling like wind passing through dead branches. "In time, Void-she claims all. Your kin crown-declare self, the masters of tide-flows, but what yorr be is mere carriers of Blight-Sorrows!"

What? I wasn’t a blight carrier! I wasn’t sick! Get out of my head void-born! 

“Tut, tut,” the nightmare-weaver leaned closer, her fetid breath washing over me, tasting of swamp gas and rotting eggs. "You are a pure voidvessel now waiting to awaken for Nox. May your she-flesh turn wrongside out, your innards become your armor, your bones your adornments. May your very essence twist and warp until you are naught but servant mine.”

No! I have my lavalier and I’m… oh no, shit, Ioan took it. He took everything! Ioan broke the ward on my Sleigh! Ioan stripped me of my protections, that's how this void-born got into my head!

“Remember my order-claim, little falseling, as your body revolts against itself, as your mind fractures under the weight of your own hubris. The inversion comes for you and the longer you persist, the greater physicality the Void-She will claim using your she-flesh. The whisperbog watches. The whisperbog waits.”

I struggled, flailed, tried to scream as I felt my entire body warp from within under the power of the cursed words of the Gygr.

“Mine shadow-hand, Aclard Dulsea his definery be. He shall arrive soon. You will let him in. You will aid him in killing Ioan-Starfall-he, yes?”

“Yes,” my lips spoke.

“Good,” the nightmare smiled. “Forget this talk, but forget not the name of mine shadow-hand, carry it in thine blood."

. . .

I woke up with a start, my heart pounding in my chest. Sweat clung to my body, and I found myself gasping for air as if I'd been running for miles. The pub was dim, save for the faint glow of embers in the fireplace.

As I sat up, I tried to recall what had disturbed my sleep so violently. There was a lingering sense of dread, a feeling that something terrible had happened, but the details slipped away like water through my fingers. All I could remember was a vague impression of yellow and black and the name Aclard Dulsea. Who was this Aclard even? What a stupid, nonsensical nightmare.

I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of the dream. It was early morning. 

As I stretched, I glanced at my hands. The skin, which had been blistered and raw from handling dragonglass, was now smooth and unblemished. 

Ioan did his thing, whatever it was, magic, or the Word of the Moon Gods that promised a Good Tomorrow.

I lifted the Nordstaii shirt Ioan gave me yesterday and cautiously felt myself under it. My piercings were gone, the magisteel had decayed away completely due to the anti-magic, decaying effects of the dragonglass. My tattoos were gone too. 

I felt vulnerable, completely stripped of my magic, my aura unable to hold onto anything, unable to shape itself to aid me. I was completely blind now to the radiance of blood, deprived of absolutely everything that made me a Leisl.

"Ioan?" I called out softly.

"Mrrrrrr?" Stormy answered, trudging up to me. Silver, big eyes looked at me.

"Hey, uh, Stormy," I said, rubbing my hands. "Umm. I think we, uh, might have had a bad start, you and I."

I looked down at the small black kitten, feeling a twinge of guilt for my earlier dismissal of her. 

"Listen," I began hesitanty. "I... I want to apologise for calling you a mere housecat. That was unfair of me."

Stormy tilted her head, feline eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made me squirm a little.

"The truth is," I continued, "I've been wrong about a lot of things lately. And I think... I think you're one of them. You're clearly more than just a cat. I can see that now."

I reached out slowly, offering my hand for her to sniff. "I know I haven't been the best... well, person. But I'd like to start over, if that's alright with you. Maybe we could be… friends?"

Stormy regarded my outstretched hand for a long moment, her tail swishing back and forth. Then, to my surprise, she stepped forward and bumped her head against my palm.

A smile spread across my face as I gently scratched behind her ears. "Thank you," I murmured. "I promise I'll do better. No more underestimating you or trying to manipulate Ioan… not that I have anything to manipulate him with on the account that all of my Star-Shards are gone. I... I think I need all the friends I can get right now, even if you are just a kitten.”

As I petted Stormy, I felt a sense of calm wash over me. The lingering unease from my nightmare began to fade, replaced by a tentative hope. 

Maybe, just maybe, things could get better from here now that I could no longer grind at the contracts or allure Ioan into being my Champion.

Just as I relaxed, Stormy suddenly bit my finger, her sharp teeth piercing my skin and drawing a drop of blood. 

I cried out in pain and surprise, jerking my hand back.

"Ouch! Why, you little demon?!" I yelped.

To my shock, Stormy darted forward and licked up the drop of blood before I could even react. Then she sat back on her haunches, staring at me with those eerie silver eyes.

"You ungrateful, Goldara-cursed, furball!" I hissed, cradling my hand. "I try to make peace and you attack me? Why, you're nothing but a vicious, flea-bitten void-spawn!"

Stormy just blinked at me, looking far too smug for a cat her size.

"Oh, I see how it is," I growled, my tail lashing in agitation. "You think you're so clever, don't you? Well, let me tell you something, you pint-sized terror. I've faced down a Star-Eater and survived. I'm not about to be intimidated by a glorified dust mop with delusions of grandeur!"

I lunged for Stormy, intent on teaching her a lesson, but she nimbly dodged my grasp, twisting out of my hands. My face collided with a chair, sending it flying.

"Come back here, you little monster!" I yelled from my position as an undignified heap on the floor. "When I get my hands on you, I'll turn you into an un-fashionable hat!"

It was at that exact moment that Ioan walked into the pub, a shovel in his hand. 

"Uh... what's going on here?" he asked, taking in the scene of me on the floor on all fours, hair a mess, my tail sticking up in agitation while Stormy sat calmly on a nearby table, grooming herself as if nothing had happened.

I felt my face ignite with embarrassment. "Your demon cat bit me!" I exclaimed indignantly, pointing an accusing finger at Stormy.

“Did you bite Cali?” Ioan asked.

“Mrrrr!” The kitten nodded.

“Aha! She confesses!” I declared. 

“She probably had a good reason for it,” Ioan said.

“Maw-a-myawrd Dmm-muwl-sssssh-meaw!” Stormy let out a long string of hiss-mewls as if that explained anything.