Everheart: Chapter 12

"What do you know about the Empire's magitech weaponry?" Burnished Snow pulled a simple stool from the corner of the small room and sat at the foot of his patient's bed.

Selah could only shrug in response.  "Very little.  I hear it rivals the technology from the ancient Allagan Empire, but, I've never dealt with the imperials."

The healer nodded and pulled a small notebook from within his vest.  He offered it to Selah, who flipped through it for a moment. She eyed over sketches of mechanical beasts and pieces of technology affixed to body parts. She read over alchemical formulae and mathematical meanderings that made no sense to her, and other various ramblings hastily jotted throughout the book.  She looked to the roegadyn with clear confusion and handed the notebook back.

"I'm not sure what much of this means, healer."

Geoffrey coughed out an almost derisive sounding laugh, "Selah's education lies mostly in art and literature, I'm afraid."

With jaw clenched in agitation, Selah glared at Geoffrey.  Maybe if you had bothered to grant me access to more tutors when I asked for it, I'd have a broader education, you arrogant prick.

"Get to the point, Snow." Selah demanded.

"Ah, of course, madam."  The thin man cleared his throat with a cough, "Ah, I suppose the fastest way to say it is, I have made study of pieces of magitech brought into Revenant's Toll, and have had some many lengthy conversations with members of the Garlond Ironworks, and I believe I have discovered a way to affix this technology onto a person, such as to give them new limbs."

He indicated Geoffrey in the bed, "Geoffrey has agreed to be the first to have my theories tested on.  He may very well walk after leaving Cartineaux after all!  Ah, and think of how others could be helped, yes?  War and adventuring can be cruel to the unlucky."

I don't need intimate knowledge of Imperial technology to know that sounds absurd.  After traveling across most of the continent, I've never encountered anything like this.  What makes this no-name healer think he's onto something even Cid Garlond's boy and girls haven't figured out?

"Healer, if such a thing were possible, I'm sure the Empire or Ironworks would have figured it out by now."

"Every major advancement begins with one person who sees what others could not."  Geoffrey struggled to push himself up again, to face the others as best he could.  "We've spent dozens of hours speaking of his research, and I think it's worth trying."

Selah looked upon Geoffrey, then Snow, then turned away as she looked within herself.  I'd almost like to just watch this fail, so he can know what it's like to have your hopes ripped away from you.  She drew in a steady breath, and slowly released it.  If Snow really is right, then this won't just help Geoff, and that's something worthwhile.  And then there's what he might be able to do to rebuild Falcon's Nest.  It's the right thing to do for everyone, isn't it?

But why does it feel so wrong?

"And I suppose you'd like me to make a trip to Castrum Centri and drag back something for you?"

The healer and patient both beamed with delight.



When reliable, steadying friendship was nowhere to be found, a glass of whiskey would suffice.  Fortunately, what the tavern called Seventh Heaven lacked in atmosphere and hospitality, it made up for in stocking a fine Lominsan blend.

It was a smaller place than she was used to, maybe only a quarter the size of the Carline Canopy or Quicksand she had loved to frequent.  The lighting was dim, with only a few sconces about the place, and the cloudy windows only allowing a portion of the sun's rays through.  Bits of food and splashes of beer littered the floor, and the place smelled sour and stale.

The room was alive, though, with the boastful tales of seasoned adventurers exaggerating their feats, and being called on their lies.  At the bar ahead of her, an elezen woman in a long, gray robe argued with her fully armored miqo'te comrade about whether or not the feline man had recovered from being tempered by a Primal.

The liquid gold burned Selah's throat and warmed her stomach, as quill and paper sat before her.  She leaned back in her chair to examine the contents of her glass, willing the liquor to answer questions it couldn't.

Why did I come here?  Why haven't I just left already?

This is the right thing to do, isn't it?  I would be helping the people of Falcon's Nest get their livelihoods back.  And, if this healer is as brilliant as he thinks he is, then I'll be helping to create something the entire world could benefit from.

Yes, this is absolutely the right thing to do.

She tilted the glass back to down the remaining spirit.  Setting the glass down, she noticed a sharp glare as light reflected off the band of rose gold on her finger.  Her stomach felt as though tied in knots, as a longing ache took hold of her heart.  She lowered her head to hide the tears that started to fall, and was grateful she sat in the corner of the bar.

Oh gods, Kitten.  What could I possibly write to you?  That something else is more important than our bonding?  That I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing?

That I'm so terrified that Geoffrey could have any kind of influence on my life again that I may have just thrown you away?

"Tears are unbecoming of a maiden so lovely as you."

She looked up to address the speaker, but paused when she saw his face and realized why the smooth, playful voice was familiar.  Snow-white hair that fell alongside eyes of mischief.  A face of youthful features, with lips turned up in that ever present grin.

"Thancred!"

He smiled as he took a seat opposite the small table.  "Hello, dear lady.  It's been some time."

The realization that she had, in fact, completely ceased all communication with the Scions months ago hit hard, and a wave of embarrassment washed over her.

"Gods, Thancred, I haven't spoken with any of you in so long.  I'm sorry, there's been so much-"

The youthful adventurer held up a hand and shook his head.  No explanation was owed.

"We thought it might have to do with the beloved you mentioned the last time we saw you.  We don't begrudge you your priorities, Selah."

Priorities...  If I really had those figured out, I wouldn't feel like a walking pile of chocobo shit.  She could only lower her head as more tears streamed down her cheek.

Surprise and discomfort crossed Thancred's face, which then softened into compassion as he reached out to reassuringly squeeze his friend's arm.. "What's happened, Selah?"

She drew in a ragged breath to steady herself, internally chiding herself for such a display in public as she wiped at her eyes.  "Have you ever been so lost as to the right thing to do that you can't see straight?"

"Constantly." he replied with a kind smile.  "And I assume it has to do with your lady?"

It felt like her heart was in her throat, and so she tried to swallow it down, and could find no words to respond with.  She realized she was trembling.

"I assume she is nowhere near Revenant's Toll?"

Still she had no words to offer.

"I'm not the best person to go to for romantic advice, dear Lady, but I can offer this: If your bond is as strong as you have thought, then call her to your side.  You can't work this out apart."

If nothing else, he's right that I can't fix this away from her.  And Ginal would understand the importance of restoring Falcon's Nest, wouldn't she?  Maybe we can finish all this together, and go back to the honeymoon we lost.

With a thankful smile she squeezed her friend's hand, "Thank you, Thancred.  I'll writer a letter immediately."

Thancred rose and offered an exaggerated half-bow.  "Woe unto me, for I must leave the light of your beauty for the many duties ahead."

"You're cute, Thancred, but not cute enough."  She offered a half-hearted grin.

"Never say never, my lovely Lady Selah."

He stepped towards the door of the tavern, and turned back.  "You know, you've missed a great many developments since you've parted with us.  If you'd like to get reacquainted with everyone, we've moved our base of operations to the halls beyond that door."  He indicated a door at the back wall, offered another smile, and was on his way.

The Scions no longer work from Vesper Bay?  What prompted that move across the continent?  When I'm finished with all this, I should stop by to see the others.

She looked upon the paper before her, put the quill to work;

"My beloved Ginal,

I pray you know that I have not forsaken you or our bonding.  Please come to Revenant's Toll as soon as possible, and let us solve this problem together, the way it should be.

Yours, alone, ever in love.

-Selah."

The world has always stood against me, and now they will know my pain as their own.

A long gown of glimmering green silk danced with the breeze as she strolled along the bridge of fallen stone slabs.

Freak!  False woman!  Weakling!

And as YOUR wife, I'm telling you, you don't OWN me!

Leaves drifted along as they fell from their branches, and she stopped to glance upon her reflection in the river below.  She grinned mischievously at the eyes ablaze with emerald fire.  With a playful purr, she let her fingers play in her wine-red hair that fell past her shoulders to the middle of her back in wild curls.  As it swayed in the breeze, it seemed like a living flame.  Her hands sensually slid from her hair, down the sides of her face and across her bust, moaning erotically.  Her tail sharply whipped out to punctuate her satisfaction.

"I feel yummy."

The ears on top of her head twitched as she heard a heavy footfall approaching.  She turned to see an Ixal warrior tread through a large, stone archway that sat at the other end of the bridge.  She couldn't help but smile as she looked upon the crudely carved spear in its hands.

Her grin twisted into a hateful scowl as the sensation of intense heat washed over her, and she remembered the pain of blistering skin.

The birdman towered over her by at least three heads.  Its mottled skin and upward curving horns were hideous to behold, and the stink of its breath invaded her nostrils with a sharp hostility.

I hate the Ixali.

"Glowing miqo'te in Ixali land.  Leave!"  Its words came through between irritated squawks.

The smile returned to her face as she admired the sharp nails that extended almost two inches from her fingertips.

"Little bird, little bird, will you sing for me~?" her voice a playful melody.

The warrior was very obviously confused by the bizarre reply, and screeched something at her in that gutteral language that grated on her nerves.  She looked up at him as the flame in her eyes flared hotter.  A mass of black, pulsing aether swelled in the ground beneath her, exploding outward and coalescing into curved, man-sized spines that sharply jutted from the ground.  One of the spines pierced the Ixal's chest, and the beastman slumped to the ground as the spine dissipated.

She knelt down by the beastman, grinning wickedly as she looked upon the lifeblood draining from the wound.  She touched her hand to her shoulder, where the memory of a terrible, piercing pain lingered.

You pierce me, I pierce you.

She giggled with a giddy delight.

Hear...feel...think... My daughter...turn back...

The voice, soft and motherly, seemed to come from within and without at once.  She curiously searched the area for the speaker.

A short distance away, a trio of birdmen came charging forth, brandishing their crudely forged weapons and cawing angrily.  She rose, and again her fingers ran through her hair, down her face and across her breasts.  Her lips curled up in a wicked grin as shining, black aether formed in her hand.  It stretched outward, and formed into the shape of a shimmering greatsword.

"Little birds, in your cage, flutter free and sing for me~"



Bees dared not buzz.  Birds feared to sing.  Even the breeze had stilled, and the river had hushed its whispers.

The entire Black Shroud had become silent in awe and fear as it beheld the massacre.

None had been spared.  Not the workers who labored to set the logs down the river.  Not the warriors who protected the camp, nor their wolf companions.  Not even the handful of young that resided here.

She stepped over the broken and hacked apart corpses as the heavy, sickly scent of blood filled her nostrils.  Her ears twitched as she was certain she heard the lifeblood of the Ixali trickle into the water.  She paused to take in the sight of severed limbs strewn about like garbage to be thrown out.

She purred as she reveled in her own carnage, a smirk playing across her lips.

You burn me, I kill you all.  You cost me my armor.  I liked that outfit.  Oh, but I'm not done.  There are still many who've hurt me, and they must suffer in turn.

She willed the greatsword in her hand to dissipate, and she took a moment to ensure no blood had ruined her dress.  

With a satisfied purr, Ginal sauntered away from used to be the Ixali logging camp.