The Tears of Kas̆dael

After discussion, they decided to head southeast. Jasper hadn't leveled up enough to pursue the heritage quest he had received, so there was no reason to immediately head to the isolated mountains of Harei Miqlat, but he figured they might as well head in their general direction. In truth, he wasn't sure if he wanted to visit the Harei Miqlat; the region was notoriously unwelcoming to visitors, often refusing to allow any but their own to pass, and he wasn't sure Ihra would be allowed to come. If push came to shove, he wasn't willing to abandon the only friend he had.

Instead, the two decided to head to the Sapiyan border town of Gis̆-Izum, where a large regional guild chapter was established. By the time they finalized their plans, it was already too late in the day to be worth setting out, so they were forced to spend the night in Hargish. Not wanting to return to the guild, they rented a room in an inn overlooking the market.

Not surprisingly, the guild had failed to provide any equipment or grooming instruments for his horse, so Jasper was forced to buy them, as well as provisions for the road, in the market. He had always loved horses back on earth, but that love had been largely restricted to the theoretical, outside of a few carefully curated rides. Thus, Jasper didn't have the first idea about the basics of horse care. As he struggled to adjust the copious amounts of gear the merchant had talked him into buying, he suspected that the merchant had seen a sucker coming.

The most important purchase they made, however, was with the money Pa’al had given them. If they were going to travel together, they both need to have horses. Ihra had objected at first, but Jasper overrode her. "What are you going to do, run alongside my horse everywhere we go? If we run into enemies, am I just supposed to gallop off, and leave you behind? If we're going to work together, you need a mount too."

She agreed reluctantly, but couldn't fully hide the spark of excitement. Ihra, who had no more experience with horses than Jasper, quickly settled on a large, retired draft horse who treated her with a calm tolerance. It wasn't the most dashing horse in the stable, but hopefully it wouldn't break her neck.

When they returned to the inn, Jasper bribed a stable boy to teach him the basics of horse grooming. It took a long time - the poor little pony having been obviously neglected - but he finally stepped back from the horse with a satisfied grin. Her dappled grey and white coat was soft and groomed, and the knots of her mane and tail had been detangled and trimmed. Rubbing her head, he fed the little pony a cube of sugar the stable boy had provided.

“Guess I need to give you a name, right girl?” The little horse whinnied, trying to fit her head into his bag where more delicious sugar cubes awaited. He looked at the little horse’s dappled coat, recalling one of his favorite fairy tales as a child. “I think I’ll call you Dapplegrim. It’s a big name for a little horse but I think you’ll live up to it.”

Early the next morning they hit the road, exiting the city gates as soon as they opened. Jasper was sad to leave Hargish behind so quickly. Despite only spending a few weeks there, it was the first, and thus far only, civilized place he had lived in since arriving in Corsythia. Compared to his grueling first few days at the ruined academy, or the horror of Yar-Khennor, the guild hall had felt like a haven of peace. Anger surged through him as he thought of their unjust banishment. In a moment of pettiness, he shook the dust off his feet as a witness against the city.

Little did he realize then the weight of that deed.

As the stars slowly rose in the heavens, they searched in vain for even a small hamlet where they could spend the night. Sapiya had once been a heavily populated region, full of grand cities and dotted with endless villages, but it had been decimated during the Desolyton, first seized by its neighbor Stryn, and their dark allies Gemlir and Malechov, and then cleansed by the crusading forces of Shamshadīn and his heirs. The population had never recovered, and more cities had been lost to the verdant jungles than were still inhabited. Thus, a wave of relief swept through Jasper when, turning a corner, he spied a small cottage sitting on the side of the road.

“Look, Ihra - maybe we can spend the night here." He laughed, "At this point, I'd even settle for a pile of hay if it meant I didn't have to sleep on the ground.” The cottage was a humble affair, made of grey mortared stone with a thatched roof, and a cheery chimney rising up from it, emitting a steady stream of smoke. They latched their horses to a hitching post conveniently located near the door.

Ihra frowned. “This is a very odd cottage, nothing like the ones we have around here.”

Jasper shrugged. To him the cottage looked like it could have been teleported here from merry old England, practically exuding a cozy, welcoming warmth. He had to admit, the architecture was rather different from the homes of Hargish. “Perhaps whoever built it was an immigrant to Sapiya?”

He knocked on the door with a firm rap. They heard sounds of scuffling in the cottage, and the door creaked open. A little old lady peered up at them, her back hunched over low. “Yes?” Seeing their clothes, her face lit up with a smile. “Oh my, you’re adventurers, aren’t you dearies?”

“We were hoping that you might have some room where we could spend the night. We’re happy to pay.”

“Oh, no need, no need. It’s nice to have visitors. It gets so lonely here by myself.” She ushered them inside. The cottage was quite small. On one side a fire crackled in the hearth, a pot of stew lightly bubbling, on the other a rickety bed. A ladder rose up to a loft, where Jasper spied some hay and blankets. That will work.

After enjoying a hearty serving of stew, accompanied by warm, fresh bread that the old widow insisted on baking, Jasper tended to the horses before climbing into the loft and passing out next to Ihra.

He awoke as the pod cover slid back. The early morning light streamed through the windows, their dancing beams warming his face. “Uhh.” He groaned, stretching his arms out. “I don’t wanna wake up.” He flopped over on his side, his face slamming into the pod’s metal casing. What the hell? Suddenly full awake, he sat, massaging his aching jaw with his hand, as his eyes scanned his apartment. I’m back on earth?

He ran into the kitchen. The clock read 7:35. Crap, I’m going to be late for work. He raced to his bedroom, rooting through his dressers for clothes. As he hopped on one foot, struggling to pull his pants over his socks, he paused. Do I even have a job still? I’ve been gone for months. His gaze swept over the room. Something felt off. If I’ve been gone for months, why is all my stuff still here? He walked back into the kitchen. The clock read 7:35. He watched it carefully. "1 Mississippi, 2 Mississippi." He reached 60, then 70, but the clock still read 7:35.

His mind raced for answers. Walking over to the window, he peered out. The houses directly across from him looked as he remembered, but the streets beyond were little more than a blur. I’m not back home. Is this a dream? He focused on his hands, but they were perfect, an exact replica of reality. So it’s not a dream, it’s an illusion. It hit him like a sledgehammer. The little old lady, she’s a witch or something like that.

Frantic now, he searched for a way to escape the illusion. He hopped into the pod and tried to start it, but nothing happened. He tried casting his magic, but, even though he could faintly discern his essence at the farthest reaches of his mind, he could not summon it to himself. Running back to the kitchen, Jasper grabbed one of his knives and plunged it into his chest. Over and over again, he stabbed himself in the heart, but despite the fountain of blood that gushed out of him, he was entirely unharmed.

He sunk to the floor in despair, a feral howl ripping its way out of his throat. And for just a second, the kitchen light flickered, plunging him into darkness. The light returned almost immediately, but the moment of dark sparked an idea in him. The void. If I can meditate, maybe I can enter the void and return to my body from there. Calming his mind, he chanted his mantra. I am the river... He followed the flowing river through his mind towards the entrance to the void. As the river poured into the mouth of the cave, he was dismayed to find the way blocked. A red door now barred the entrance to the void.

Roaring with frustration and fear, Jasper hammered his fists against the door, lashing out with all his might. The door shuddered. It shuddered. Pulsing with the newfound strength of hope, he threw himself against the door, over and over again. The red wood warped and cracked, splinters flying off as his fists pounded ever deeper into the wound. His hands were mangled, a mess of broken bones and blood, but he would not relent. With a savage roar, he finally broke through the door and tumbled down the river into the void. Popping into the void, he wasted no time rushing over to Kas̆dael. She watched him with clear awareness on her face, her hand already reaching out to him. As soon as he drew near, she plunged her hand into his heart, sending him back to his body.

His eyes flew open. A large shadowy form loomed above him, blazing yellow eyes lining the dark contours of its body. A myriad of misshapen limbs and tendrils sprung from both sides of the creature. One tendril was buried deep into the heart of the still sleeping Ihra, while another, its end seemingly chopped off and still smoldering, hung limply over Jasper’s chest. On instinct, he lashed out with his foot against the creature, but it passed right through. An icy chill immediately spread through his leg where it had touched the creature.

Unable to cast his favorite spell in the cramped loft, he reached for another. Purge. The creature flew back against the ceiling, the shadows forming a constellation of fire and darkness. The tendril buried in Ihra was yanked back as its tentacles flailed wildly. Not waiting to see further results of his spell, Jasper grabbed Ihra’s arm and rolled off of the loft. He landed with a painful thud on his feet, barely managing to catch the falling Ihra before she hit the ground. She flailed around in confusion, waking from whatever illusion she had been trapped in, before her eyes fell on the creature.

A tendril from the creature lashed out and wrapped itself around his throat. Yanking him up in the air, it slammed him back down into the floor. He screamed in pain as his legs were shattered from the force of the impact. Somehow, he managed to focus enough to cast the spell again Purge. The creature reared back, slamming against the wall as fire again surge through its body.

Ihra fumbled with her equipment, notching her bow with a shaky hand. Her first arrows passed through the creature harmlessly before her still half-addled mind realized that a mundane arrow couldn't hurt the eldritch being. With a grimace, she reached for one of the expensive enchanted arrows and aimed it at the tendril still dangling Jasper in the arrow. This time it cut true, and he fell to the floor in a crumbled heap. Her second arrow went straight into the creature’s mass. An earth-shattering screech erupted from the being, its body still burning with the flames of Purge. It turned its focus on the new threat and lashed out against her. Her bow was sent flying from her hand as she was tossed into the side of the cottage wall.

But Jasper was somehow still awake. As Ihra dodged one tendril after another, vainly struggling to reclaim her bow, he tried over and over again to cast his spell, warring against the fog that crept over his mind from his extensive injuries. The beast finally caught the archer. Lifting her high into the air, it tightened its grip around her throat. She hung in the air, choking, her limbs twitching vainly. Purge. The painful fire spread again through the creature, and this time the beast could no longer shrug off the damage. Dropping Ihra, the beast thrashed and flailed as the fire consumed it entirely, leaving nothing but smoke and ash. With their victory secured, Jasper finally let himself slip into the beckoning void.

He awoke to find himself choking on liquid. Ihra loomed above, worry writ large across her face, as she poured a healing potion into his mouth. He gulped the potion down as best as he could, once again marveling at its sheer deliciousness, feeling the bones in his body reforming, as even the shattered bone shards of his legs coalesced anew. With shaky legs he managed to stand up, bracing himself against the cottage wall with one arm.

“Thanks.” He looked around the wrecked interior. “Well, that’s the last time I use Airbnb.”

A look of confusion flitted across Ihra’s face. “What?"

"Nothing. You alright?”

She sighed, looking over her new guild jumpsuit, now singed and torn. “Yeah, I think so. You took the brunt of the fight. Gonna need some new clothes, though.”

“What was that thing?

“A night hag, maybe? I thought they were just children’s tales, truthfully, but…” She shuddered. “I think that thing’s dead, but I don’t feel comfortable staying here the rest of the night. Can you ride?”

Jasper slowly walked towards the door, supporting himself against the wall. “I’ll try.”

It soon become apparent that he had not yet recovered enough strength from the battle to support himself in the saddle. Potions could heal critical injuries, and even save you from the brink of death, but full recovery still took some time. Unwilling to stay in the cottage any longer, Ihra came up with a solution: she tied him to Dapplegrim, securely knotting him in place. Stowing their bags on the horses, they rode off into the night.

In the aftermath of a close call, some people want nothing more than to find a quiet place to be alone with themselves. Jasper was like this, content to ride in silence after the encounter with the night hag. Ihra, on the other hand, was the opposite. Desperate to fill the silent void of night, she carried on a never-ending, largely one-way conversation. Thus, when the sun finally arose, Jasper greeted it with a previously unmatched fervor. Selene's Grace, he vowed.