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There is something wrong with me.
The words still resonated in He Who Was' mind. He had spoken them aloud; his throat still burned with their presence even though they were long gone. All around him, shadows encroached, kept back just far enough not to claw at him by their torches, yet still somehow their tendrils had squirmed their way into his thoughts, twisted his mind.
He went over the events again in his mind. First the letter, the warning. Lover's Whisper's mind gone, and then her life. The adventurers and the torment of that wretched soul who turned upon her friends. The fighting, so much fighting with Quothe. Back and forth on leaving the shadows. His task was done, why stay? Why had he stayed? He Who Was wasn't sure anymore, but he had. He had stayed until the priest.
His gaze flicked to the side, to where the cowled human walked tall with his chin high. Hours ago he had been attacked, assaulted, stabbed. All by He Who Was. Yet after it was done, it was the priest's voice who had soothed him, his touch that had dimmed the madness. Even now He Who Was couldn't truly say why he had attacked the man. Something inside him had burned. He barely knew himself anymore.
Somewhere, it still burned.
It is not too late for you.
The words of the priest. Why should he care? Just as He Who Was had feared death, neither had made sense. This place was strange, confusing. Perhaps this was all another trick of the mind.
Come with me. Let me help you. Before the shadows take all that you were.
That is all I am. He Who Was.
Leave the shadows with me. Come, and we shall find He Who Is.
He Who Was swallowed the pressure that welled up at the base of his gullet, forcing himself to think rationally. Nothing but foolish wordplay designed to evoke some sort of emotional response. Ridiculous. He was shadar-kai. Such things had no effect on him.
And yet his footfalls matched with the priest's, soft steps upon the broken earth. His face down turned, brow drawing heavy as the thoughts weighed upon him.
Abdirak was his name. Insane, most likely. Yet He Who Was walked by his side.
A sharp, sudden pain flared in his arm and he snatched it away, hissing as he glared. Quothe landed heavily on his shoulder, head canting at him. She was right to peck him, however. It was of no use to mope. He Who Was was not the only one acting strange though. For all that she spoke ill of the human, she had encouraged He Who Was to follow him. Of course, she had been trying to get him to leave these cursed lands for weeks.
"Where are we going, priest?"
"There were signs for an inn this way," the human said. "An inn means a road."
"Then what brought you to my camp?"
The priest rolled an easy shoulder. "Sometimes our feet take us places."
He Who Was' lip curled and eyes narrowed. "Nonsense words. Answer my question."
The short vision ahead allowed by their torchlight fell upon a branching in the path, and a sign. The inn the human had spoken of. He Who Was scowled at the scuffed dust on the ground.
"Fresh tracks," he said, dropping to his haunches to inspect them. "Yours?"
The priest lifted his hands to pull down his hood, revealing his scarred face. Eyes that glimmered like mirrors scanned the ground. "No." He looked up, toward the inn. "Come. There may be others."
"This is no concern of ours," He Who Was said, though as the priest started towards the inn, He Who Was found his feet followed. He grit his teeth.
The unlikely pair had expected to happen across a dark, dilapidated building, yet as they crossed the bridge, He Who Was took one step through the gloom and the next into relative light. He looked up and around, eyes darting. They were inside a dome that seemed to hold back the shadows like glass held back water. It held the inn and its surroundings in its entirety, lit with torches and, most surprisingly, patrolled by guards.
"Harpers," the priest said, voice raising at the end in pleasant surprise.
"The air is different here," He Who Was said. His mind felt… quieter. That erratic buzz in his chest every time Abdirak spoke nonsense seemed lesser here. The mind and the body both more placid.
"It seems that this barrier over us is shielding us from the curse, somehow."
The priest led them to one of the guards to inquire about this place. The inn was not functioning, unsurprisingly, but the Harpers who were taking shelter there were accepting any to take refuge. He Who Was could not say he was eager to be amongst these people, but to be free of the clawing cold of the curse was most welcome. He would tolerate this place.
As they went inside, Quothe knocked her head against his gently.
"I feel it as well," he said. "Unsurprising in a place such as this."
The presence was quiet but consistent. Lost souls trapped within these walls. Violent deaths were all this land knew, so it was hardly surprising. The memories of these souls were sharp, even from a distance. It was distracting. Tempting.
The priest negotiated a room for them, though 'negotiated' was perhaps a poor word. They were offered the room, yet the priest still plied a coin into the palm of the young man's hand. Pointless and wasteful. The goodwill of these Harpers might be useful later, but they seemed willing enough to aid without such displays.
The room was functional and secure. Two beds, storage. His eyes glanced uncomfortably over a mirror. He Who Was turned away from it, setting down his rucksack as Quothe flew from his shoulder to the back of a chair. There was precious little room in here for her to spread her wings.
"You should rest," the priest said, as he set his bag down by the other bed. "I intend to see what I can learn of this place. It would seem as though most of their number are in the process of an assault. This is the home of those towers I heard so much about."
He Who Was had no idea what he was talking about, nor did he care to learn. The priest bid him to rest but it was him who had been attacked and wounded. He considered telling the man as such, but closed his mouth again. What difference did it make to He Who Was if Abdirak was doing himself harm?
He sat on the edge of the bed and the priest left. He Who Was considered laying down, trancing, but his mind was too full and this place too distracting. Even just this room was so thick with memories. A painting on the wall, tearfully given, infused with the sorrow of a long parting. A trinket box on the bedside, pure anxiety, a previous store for medicine which—as turns out—was not life saving.
The mirror caught his eye again, some pale figure peering back at him with dark eyes and a scowl. He Who Was shuddered and stood, pulling the blanket from the end of the bed to tuck into the corners and cover it.
His hand grazed the candelabra, sending a whisper of a memory into him. Not anxiety nor sorrow, such familiar tastes. This memory welled in his chest like a rising heat, a faint giddiness invading him in a most unfamiliar way. He found the corners of his mouth twitching upwards just briefly, before he scowled and snatched his hand away.
Quothe chirped and caught his attention. Her head was on its side, regarding him.
"It's nothing," he said. He rubbed at his wrist, the sharp movement reminding him of the bruises left there by the priest earlier in the day. Irritating, but far less than he deserved.
The priest. Where had he gotten to?
He Who Was left the room, Quothe hopping up onto his shoulder again as he went. The upper floor had a square walkway around the open ceiling of the ground floor, where there was a bar and tables, and a handful of people. One or two harpers, some tieflings. So much sorrow. A whisper of something else. A flutter in the gut. A breath held too long. Hope.
He Who Was rolled his eyes and made his way to the stairs and down toward the bar, where Abdirak appeared to be listening to three tieflings recounting some tale. He Who Was took a place by his side, leaning on the bar, and realised that the bar staff were a pair of tiny tiefling children. That seemed irresponsible but he didn't care enough to comment.
"We waste time here," He Who Was said, when a lull in conversation brought Abdirak's attention to him.
"You may not require rest," the human said, "but I do. It would do you well to remain within this shield. It apparently guards against the curse outside."
He Who Was was quiet for a long moment. "It does," he said, so quiet it was almost a whisper. "Its presence in my mind is… diminished."
The priest regarded him, giving him the time to gather his thoughts.
"Before stepping within the barrier, I did not realise the extent to which I had changed. Now I question what my mind truly is. Are the effects lessened or gone? Any frame of reference I once had is lost to the shadows."
"I think that time spent here shall not be wasted," Abdirak said.
He Who Was rolled his eyes. "I tire of your cryptic nonsense, priest."
The human's eyebrows rose, a faint upturn to his mouth. "I do apologise for being cryptic. Evasive. Vague." He Who Was frowned at him. "I simply mean that this shield seems quite effective. It would do your mind well to have some respite for a day or two."
"You accuse me of madness."
Abdirak leaned closer, voice lowering. "Do you remember how we met, He Who Was?"
The shadar-kai met his eyes, silver discs like mirrors, and grimaced as cold fingers crawled down his spine. Quothe rapped him sharply on the head with her beak. As if he needed more convincing after the priest's unwelcome reminder.
"Come," Abdirak said, placing an arm around his shoulders to guide him away from the bar. "If you are not ready to rest, let us walk the grounds. Some relatively fresh air would be pleasant."
He Who Was allowed himself to be led out into the gloom of outside, still brighter than the oppressive blanket of the curse. The dome cast a soft glow almost reminiscent of the full moon.
"They said this was a Selûnite's work?" he asked as they paced a walkway along the outside of the inn.
"Indeed." Abdirak's face was unreadable. He still had not shared which deity he pledged his soul to, He Who Was realised. "The Harpers believe that their mission will bring an end to this curse, and the barrier will be needed no longer."
He Who Was grunted. "The spirits say this curse has held the land for over a hundred years."
"About high time it ended then," Abdirak replied brightly as he watched the dome shimmer above them.
He Who Was' attention was caught by a shape down by the side of the path. Somehow greenery had survived inside this sanctuary despite the darkness and the cold. He paced towards a small flowerbed and crouched down onto his haunches, peering at the protrusion from between the grass.
A long, proud stalk. Sweeping drops of night, arranged in a sunburst around a central dab of yellow. A flower. Thriving in this cursed land. He reached down towards it and let his fingers brush the silken petals. His breaths stalled in his throat as he watched it, took in every curve, every blemish of it. The chill air hit his teeth as he peered at it mesmerised, and He Who Was realised that his lips had parted, pulling up. He caught himself, taking his hand back slowly.
Heat flushed through his body, brow hardening, jaw setting until his teeth ached. What he had said to Abdirak was true. There was something wrong with him. His nostrils flared as he stood, and he thrust his foot down upon the flower, the soft petals grinding beneath his mostly-bare foot. The burning in his soul felt all-consuming. How had this wretched thing drawn out such a response in him? He took his foot away and snarled at the mangled remains. The delicate flower had been torn and shredded, and mingled with the dirt below.
As he straightened, shoulders heaving as breaths seethed from his chest, his eye was caught by a figure watching him. Abdirak. The priest's eyes shone in the dim light. Intrigue without judgement. He Who Was swallowed, and without speaking turned and left. Perhaps he should try to rest after all.
Abdirak's breaths never slowed. He Who Was lay in the darkness of the room, attempting and failing to trance as Abdirak attempted to sleep, but instead he found himself listening to exhalations of a random human he had tried and failed to kill.
And he would have killed Abdirak. He knew that now, a cold admission in the darkness. There would have been no point, no purpose, no justice in it - just the will of the shadows. Abdirak knew it too, He Who Was thought. And yet here he was, helping. Trying to.
"You do not sleep," he said eventually.
Abdirak's eyes remained closed. "And you do not…" He paused, before simply lifting and waving a hand.
"I do not," He Who Was replied with a sigh. "Hardly ever since I came to this place. Yet today is different."
"There is a sense of finality in the air," Abdirak said, and He Who Was frowned.
"Yes," he agreed, the syllable slow and ponderous.
Abdirak sighed and finally opened his eyes, throwing the sheet away from his body clad in loose cloth trousers and nothing else. He stood, stretching his back before moving to the patio doors leading onto a small balcony. He Who Was watched as he moved into the night. Hmm. Not night. Darkness. This place was confusing, an oasis of feigned normality in this void of madness.
A void. He Who Was found his eyes lingering on the candelabra his hand had brushed earlier. His mind to wandered yellow wheat fields and somewhere far away a small child laughed.
He rolled his eyes and grumbled as he rose from the bed, stomping to the desk and snatching the candelabra up, stuffing it into a drawer and slamming it closed again. Out on the balcony, Abdirak turned to peer at him. Again, no words. No judgement. Just a gaze full of words unspoken and words unknown. He Who Was had felt he was good at reading people, after so so long watching, yet this human confused him.
Abdirak beckoned him with a finger and He Who Was stepped out with him. The barrier reached out enough to show a river before the darkness became impenetrable again.
"It is an odd thing to become so angered by a flower and a candle holder," Abdirak said. His tone was light. Conversational. As always.
He Who Was rolled his eyes. "Anger is not something I concern myself with."
Abdirak turned his face to watch him, smile turning wry and wicked. "Are you certain, dear one?"
He Who Was frowned at him, aware of how his blood suddenly surged in his veins, how his jaw tensed. Ridiculous man- The flush of heat in his flesh was doused with sharp cold, pieces falling to place in his mind. The burning in his heart as he gazed upon the flower. The way he had banished the candelabra. The racing of his blood right now.
His face dropped, void-like eyes peering into Abdirak's as his hands trembled just slightly. A faint, shrill whisper trilled in his ear in one long, continuous cry. He had been angry. He had felt it, not observed it, not watched nor collected nor squirrelled it away. It lived not in his pockets but in his veins. It had burned like the flame on a wick.
Abdirak's eyes shone like metal. Like the mirror in the room he had covered with the blanket. A pale figure stared back at him, reflected in those eyes, and He Who Was did not like what he saw.
Shadar-kai were empty wells. Devoid of feeling. Of emotion. Voids. Yet it seemed that somehow, water had seeped through, and the drought inside him had been dampened.
Abdirak's eyes narrowed just slightly, curious. "Your anger surprises you. Did you truly think yourself above such a natural emotion?"
He Who Was glared at him, lips turned to a snarl. "I am shadar-kai."
"And for this you believe yourself above such things?"
The priest's words were confounding enough to quell the rising fire in his belly. Abdirak didn't know. He Who Was' existence was outside this reality. A man who did not belong.
"I see," Abdirak said after some time, even though He Who Was had said nothing. Something shone in his eyes, some sort of new understanding. "It was not a belief. Is this why that poor flower saw your ire? It evoked something in you that you are not supposed to feel?"
He Who Was' head canted lightly to the side. The priest was irritatingly astute, noting this went beyond simple anger. He felt that unpleasant burn in his gut once more. He did not enjoy being on the back foot like this - it was he who would normally have the upper hand in the rare conversations he had.
"You are a curious man," He Who Was said, tone accusatory.
"Of course," Abdirak replied, a smile splitting his face. "Is to learn about the world and all in it not one of the greatest joys in this world?"
He Who Was regarded him. To learn. To watch. Was there joy in it? His purpose was one of observation and collection. Had he ever enjoyed it? Could he?
"And what do you choose to learn about?" Ask questions. Take control. Guide the conversation. He Who Was felt the flames in him settling a little.
Abdirak's eyes took on a slightly predatory nature, his smile tightening yet no more discomforted. "Everything, dear one." His tone was perfectly amiable, yet somehow made the words sound like a threat.
"But not the shadar-kai."
"Oh, I would be delighted to learn of your people," Abdirak replied. "Information on them is, however, sparse. For example, I have heard that you are observers, but was unaware that you seem to have such a complex relationship with emotions."
"It is not complex," He Who Was began, the flesh on the back of his neck prickling, and instantly tasted the regret on his tongue. He wanted to give less away, not more, yet he had already said too much to stop now without revealing such. He exhaled sharply through his nose. "Shadar-kai do not feel. Emotions are to be observed. Collected. Not felt. That is the purview of others."
Abdirak peered at him curiously. "You have never felt?" he asked, the smug stoicism in his voice finally giving way to something gentler and more vulnerable. "Before being effected by this curse?"
He Who Was looked back out into the gloom, eyes watching the water appearing from the darkness and disappearing back into it. He remembered the cool splash on his flesh. Cupped hands flinging water. Sweet laughter in the air as the late evening sun glistened orange through the droplets. He thought of the mirror, covered by the sheet.
"Never," he said.
"I am beginning to see why you are so distressed. Emotions can be most difficult to handle even to those with a lifetime of experience." The priest put a gentle hand on He Who Was' wrist, and the shadar-kai glared down at it. "I have taken you from the shadows, and I will not abandon you here. I have guided many to a better understanding and control of themselves. I wish to help you too, if you would allow it."
"What does one such as you gain from that?"
"The destination is not always the reward," Abdirak said, "but the journey."
He Who Was regarded him. So the human did not want a boon or trinket in return for his aid. Something less tangible, and perhaps more costly. He seemed interested in knowledge, but men wise enough to know the merit of such were often dangerous.
"Now that you are free of the curse," Abdirak said, distracting He Who Was from his thoughts, "do you believe that your new found emotions will leave you, in time?"
He Who Was swallowed, the action more tricky than usual. "This is unknown to me."
"Hmm. Then we shall prepare for either."
He Who Was sighed and shook his head. This human was strange. Overly eager. His motives were clouded for now but they would come to light, before whatever plan he had could be acted upon. He Who Was was confident about that, at least.
"While I understand this must be confusing and distressing for you," Abdirak began, "it would be a pity for you to lose this new ability. To feel is a gift that all mortals should have."
He Who Was regarded him. He thought about voicing his thoughts but remained silent. Perhaps the priest was correct, and yet that still did not apply to him. He was not mortal. This vessel meant nothing.
Didn't it?
"You have green in your eyes."
He Who Was was startled from his musing as though doused in cold water. "What?" The word snapped from his jaws like a lunging wolf.
"Your eyes," Abdirak replied, utterly unperturbed by his manner. "I thought them dark voids, but I was wrong. You have green in them."
Did they shine in the late evening sun, once?
"And what bearing does the hue of my eyes have on our task?" he asked, fighting to return his voice to a level drawl.
"None," Abdirak replied brightly. "We should eat. If we cannot rest, we can at least replenish our strength in other ways."
He Who Was sighed and rolled his apparently green eyes, even though inside he agreed.
Abdirak had dressed himself in plain clothes and the pair returned to the main bar downstairs, while Quothe slept nested in Abdirak's cloak on the floor. Tieflings and Harpers still milled about, with no sense of day and night. The pair had rations in their packs, yet bartered with the locals for a meal. They would likely need their food for the journey out of the shadows. It would require strength to get themselves safely away from this sanctuary.
He Who Was ate in silence as Abdirak took to pointlessly socialising with a tiefling woman as he ate. She wore garish colours and bells, and spoke entirely too loudly. He had little interest in her, and her presence only made his plan to probe the priest about his origins and intentions unviable. He Who Was stabbed a potato with unwarranted viciousness, drawing a concerned glance from the woman. He still hadn't managed to figure out even the priest's deity.
The scars felt like a clue but every thought he had was thwarted by logic. A Bhaalist never would have let him live. An Ilmatari would not have so gleefully participated in his wretched scene when they first met. A Loviatan would have stabbed him, not themself, and have no interest in helping him now. Cyric, perhaps? Was this all some clever act? That seemed logical, and yet He Who Was had observed this plane for a long, long time. Taken back many memories and souls and emotions. It was possible he was wrong, but there was a sincerity to the man—an unquestionable weakness in him—that seemed genuine, if all of He Who Was' experience was to be believed.
"Oh gods, there it is again," the woman, Alfira, said, bringing her hands to the sides of her head.
He Who Was listened. The presences he had felt when he first entered this place had grown more restless. Now a soft moan echoed from the north-facing wing.
"Ghosts aren't real," said another tiefling, joining them by sitting across from her. "It's probably just the wind."
He Who Was rolled his eyes again. "Are all within these walls so ignorant as to the souls that have passed?" he asked, drawing the attention of the other three.
After a moment of silence, the new comer huffed, shoulders deflating. "Oh don't, she's already wound up enough."
"It's real, Lakrissa," Alfira said. "It's been moaning ever since the assault left for Moonrise Towers."
"They."
Alfira looked at He Who Was with her intense orange eyes, concerned.
"There are many souls in this building," He Who Was clarified. "Most likely killed by the curse, if a mission to end it has them so restless all of a sudden."
The woman looked at him with something between horror and wonder in her burning eyes. "Who are you?"
"What was this place?" he said, ignoring her question.
"Jaheira said it was always an inn," Lakrissa said, leaning on the table to look at him more closely, "but they found evidence that there was a Selûnite resistance operating from the cellar, way back before the curse."
He Who Was sighed. "Unsuccessful ghosts. There are few who are more obtrusive."
"Can you do something about them?" Alfira asked, a hint of hope creeping into her voice. "You seem like you know a lot about this sort of thing."
"That would be a rather marvellous way to repay the Harpers' hospitality," Abdirak said with a smile. He Who Was saw right through it. He felt no such thing - for one thing, he had paid for the room.
"Perhaps I might have a moment to look into it."
"Wonderful," Abdirak said. "After dinner then. It would not do well to keep Miss Alfira on her last nerve."
She giggled and pushed Abdirak's shoulder gently. "Aww, you're sweet."
Both He Who Was and Lakrissa glared at him. He wasn't sure what Lakrissa's issue was, but the human was embarrassing them both. Quite possibly intentionally. There was an unpleasant warmth in He Who Was' cheeks.
"Well, if you think looking for 'ghosts' is a worthwhile use of time, why not." Lakrissa's tone was flippant, but she added: "Not like there's much else to do around here but wait anyway."
Abdirak and He Who Was finished their food, and the shadar-kai was loathe to admit that he did feel far more grounded after having consumed it. More regulated. More normal. There were still hints here and there of the changes, the intrusions, but he at least felt marginally more equipped to deal with them.
"So," Abdirak said the moment He Who Was set his fork upon his plate. "Ghosts." His eyes glittered with mischief.
He Who Was sighed. "Very well. Let us look at this cellar then."
After much deliberation over whether or not the tieflings would join them, Lakrissa led the strange pair outside and around to the steps beneath the building as a nervous Alfira trailed behind, afraid to go but unwilling to let her friend go without her. It was unclear to He Who Was whether Alfira thought she might have any hope against an angry spectre or perhaps she feared that it was dangerous for Lakrissa to be alone with the strange men, but he did not care either way.
The spirits in the dusty old cellar were not angry. They were excited. Life—for want of a better word—thrummed through them. The very walls sung with their energy. He touched his palm flat to one of the stone walls, letting the cold seep through his flesh. Anticipation bubbled in the bricks, simmering over the deep set taste of despair. The anguish that had brewed here had been festering for decades. Presumably since the curse began, if the women spoke true about the Selûnites.
"The sounds are recent?" He Who Was asked, not looking away from his hand, pale flesh against pale stone.
"As far as we know," Lakrissa said. "We haven't exactly been here for ages."
"They started the moment the aasimar was freed," Alfira said.
He Who Was frowned, finally removing his hand and turning to look at her. Abdirak too regarded her with an inquisitive gaze.
"We don't know that," Lakrissa said.
"The timeline works," Alfira replied, eyes wide. They glowed in the gloom.
"What aasimar?" He Who Was demanded. His tone was sharp, and Alfira flinched.
"T-they found her in the Shadowfell," Alfira answered, picking at her own fingers as she stared at him. A sliver of ice slid down He Who Was' back. "That's what Wyll said, anyway. They think that she was tied to the shadow curse somehow. If the assault is successful, then they think they can lift the curse."
"So we heard," Abdirak said, voice magnitudes warmer than He Who Was'. "Perhaps this is what has the spirits so excitable. Perhaps they seek to warn of dangers."
"No," He Who Was said. He drew the attention of the other three again, but said nothing for a long moment. The Shadowfell. His home. The origin of the very curse that was almost his doom. He needed to go back. And yet…
"No?" Lakrissa asked, arms folded over her chest. She seemed far less enchanted by the spectacle of the spirits - as she should be. They were as mundane as the walls themselves.
He gave her a withering stare. "These souls want and need nothing that we can provide. They seek the end of the curse. Perhaps your allies shall grant them this. Perhaps not."
"I have faith in them," Alfira said, voice bold despite the quiver of her jaw and the stiffness in her shoulders.
"Then surely they shall succeed where a century of others have failed," He Who Was replied dryly, and she scowled at him.
The atmosphere was tense between the group as they returned to the inn. He Who Was and Abdirak trailed behind as the other pair hurried back to the warmth and safety of the inn's walls.
"You were quite unkind with our friends," Abdirak said, tone gentle as they meandered.
"It is interesting that you would describe them as our friends. As it is, neither has done anything for us."
Us. He Who Was frowned, yet did not correct himself. They were travelling companions. He could hardly deny that.
Abdirak smirked at him. "Is that how you describe friendship?"
"I don't have friends."
The priest's smile stretched a little further. "A most convincing rebuttal."
He Who Was sighed. "It would seem that you relish being irritating."
At that moment, as Abdirak's hand fell upon the door to the inn, a great streak of light stretched across the sky. He Who Was hissed, raising a hand as his eyes burned. Abdirak took him by the shoulder and quickly guided him into the shade of the inn's balcony, yet still the light was searing. It split the shadows like meat cleaver, rending the sky in two. The light spread and filled the sky, chasing the shadows away. What had been a void of impenetrable night shifted rapidly into day, the sun's rays seeping through the clouds overhead.
Abdirak patted He Who Was on the shoulder as the shadar-kai peered up at the sky through squinted eyes. "And it would seem that you relish being wrong."
The inn quickly became abuzz with excitement, and the pair took to returning to their room. He Who Was sought refuge from the noise and the light. He wasn't sure why Abdirak had joined him. He seemed to enjoy the presence of the tieflings. He Who Was did not care to think on that though. While the barrier had done much to alleviate the pressure of the shadow curse from his mind, it clearly had not lifted it entirely, for now he was overcome with such a strange weightlessness in his skull that he feared he would not be able to get back up from the bed if he tried.
He Who Was tried to remember how long it had lasted. How long had he lived with that oppressive force bearing down on his mind, warping everything that he saw, everything that he was? How long had it been making him feel? And even now, as the curse was lifted by the efforts of those in the tieflings spoke of, he still felt. It seemed as though a swarm of locust had taken residence inside his chest, fluttering and hopping all about where his lungs should have been. Was this a sickness that would heal? Or was he doomed to this fate until the Raven Queen claimed him once more?
The tieflings had spoken of an entrance to the Shadowfell. He could simply discard this vessel and let his soul be taken, yet for some reason the thought brought a pail of ice water to join his bustling locusts in his chest.
"I will trance," he said simply, without looking to Abdirak. He Who Was closed his eyes before the priest could respond, and if he did say anything, He Who Was ignored it.
With a plan in his mind and the lack of the shadow curse invading his mind, He Who Was tranced until night had fallen. When he roused himself, Abdirak's breaths were soft and his eyes closed. Asleep, at last. As strange as the man was, he was still only human. He Was Was watched him as he slipped from the bed and moved with the grace of a cat to the door. He slid outside, giving a last glance into the room before closing it. Abdirak was undisturbed.
Downstairs was raucous. He Who Was frowned as he peered over the banister, looking into the bar below. It seemed that the heroes of the hour had returned. Even though much of the room seemed to have been transformed into an infirmary, spirits were high. The Raven Queen would get none of her favoured trinkets from here today.
He slinked down the stairs and around the crowd, his talent for going unnoticed serving him well. Though he stood out among the Harpers and their guests, no one was looking for him, so no one would see him unless they wanted to. They were too preoccupied with the wounded and their victory.
Outside, He Who Was was surprised to find one of the tieflings from earlier perched upon the fountain's edge. Her lute was on her knee, but she didn't play, eyes firmly affixed to the sky above them. He Who Was stepped towards her, out from beneath the canopy of the inn's entrance, and looked up to see what had her attention.
The sky was no longer a black void. It was more like a thick velvet cloak, the darkness filled with inky blue streaks and glittering with light. Night was his favoured time of day, and yet somehow he had never really appreciated how bright the sky was when the clouds parted. Something stirred within He Who Was' chest. The locust had become gentle. Delicate. Tickling up his oesophagus in a most unfamiliar sensation. He suddenly felt so very small, and yet it was not an unpleasant feeling.
"Incredible, isn't it?" Alfira said.
He Who Was' attention crashed back to the ground. He had not been aware of how his eyes had widened, how his jaw had parted just slightly. "If one spends their life regarding their feet, certainly."
Alfira grunted with a scowl and looked down to her lute, playing with the tuning pegs and plucking at strings. "Did you want something?" Her tone was sharp, brow hard.
A tiny smile quirked at the corner of his mouth. "You and your associate mentioned the Shadowfell. Where is this entrance you spoke of?"
She glanced back to him. "Why?"
He regarded her with intense, void-like eyes. Void-like, he thought irately. Not green. "My business is my concern."
Alfira's eyes flicked uncertainly to the entrance to the inn and then back to He Who Was. "Where is your friend?"
"What interest of that is yours?"
The longer she stared into his eyes, the more uncomfortable she looked, shifting her body. "The Mausoleum," she said eventually. "North of Reithwin. That's what I heard anyway. I haven't been."
He ran an appraising eye up and down her, one eyebrow raising slightly. "Probably wise."
He left her on the fountain looking mildly offended, starting for the bridge. There was a caw above him. He didn't look. He knew who it was.
The road to Reithwin had once been well signposted, and He Who Was was more than skilled enough as a tracker to find the clues in the long since rotten wood of the signs. For all the devastation the land had seen, already it was starting to heal. Green grass poked up through shattered cobbles, and the trees that had survived the century of ruin were surging back to life.
When He Who Was first set out, he moved swiftly and with purpose. Yet as he passed through the ruins of Reithwin and north towards his goal, he realised that his steps had become meandering. He had inspected renewed greenery, weathered plaques, crumbling gravestones. This land was steeped in tragedy, infecting the very ground beneath his feet. What sort of shadar-kai would he be if he did not witness the remnants of this harrowing place?
Quothe landed heavily atop the gravestone he had been studying, her wicked claws crumbling the delicate stone. She lifted up her wings and flapped at him, cawing sharply.
"Walk! Walk!" her harsh voice squawked.
He sighed, glaring at her. His companion. She had been furious when he refused to leave the Shadow-Cursed lands, and yet had stayed by his side. She had been right, too. Staying was folly, and almost his doom.
"I cannot return empty handed," he said.
The very ground was thick with sorrow and yet he did not gather these memories. Maybe he was looking for something specific. Something special to take back to the Raven Queen after his absence. Maybe he wasn't. He looked up from the gravestone to peer up the hill, to where the entrance to the mausoleum stood. A monument to death. To endings. He had to step through those gates. He had to make his way down to the entrance to the Shadowfell. He had to return.
He Who Was' throat tightened. Would he still experience these strange sensations when he left this plane? Would he be free of their constant intrusion?
Did he want to be?
"Walk."
He Who Was looked to Quothe. Her mimicry sounded strange this time, her corvid throat not made for the soft, pleading sound she attempted to emulate. He Who Was reached out and ran his fingers gently over her head, feeling her soft feathers. She twitched, just lightly, and took a moment to understand what he was doing before eagerly pushing her head into his palm. Something swelled in He Who Was' chest, a ball of warmth that spread to his shoulders and down his arms. Quothe rapped the side of her beak against his wrist, and the corner of his mouth quirked up.
"You travel quickly."
Abdirak's voice came as a surprise, but He Who Was did not let it show. He finished his strange yet tender moment with Quothe before withdrawing his hand and looking to the human, stood on the path back towards Reithwin. He was dressed in his casual clothing again.
"As do you," He Who Was replied. "And quietly."
"Not especially," Abdirak said as he started towards the shadar-kai. "You were just rather distracted. Leaving so soon?"
"Yet you saw fit to follow me," He Who Was said, rising to his feet.
"I made a promise to aid you and, forgive me for saying so, you do still seem in need."
He Who Was stared at him, face unimpressed. "The only aid I may need will not come from you."
"And where will it come from then?"
"That is not your concern," He Who Was replied. "Neither am I, anymore. You helped me see sense, and I appreciate that. It does not change that my time here has ended."
"I see." The priest watched him, face neutral, and the silence dragged on between them.
And dragged on. And on. Until finally He Who Was exhaled sharply through his nose and narrowed his eyes just slightly.
"Well?"
Abdirak's eyes widened and he stretched his neck forward as though pretending to listen closely, his faux surprise causing the skin on the back of He Who Was' neck to prickle and his jaw to set. "Oh I do apologise. Were you expecting me to start with the grand farewells? Well, allow me to say, we have only known one another a short time and yet-"
"You-!" He Who Was interrupted him but cut his own words short, glaring back to Quothe briefly as bile burned in his throat. Abdirak wasn't saying the right things.
"Yes?" Abdirak asked. His playful manner clung on by a single thread now, intensity burning behind his silver eyes.
He Who Was simply sighed, letting his arms go limp at his sides. He felt the well inside himself, but it seemed so much colder and deeper than it ever had before. "As you say then. Farewell." He looked to Quote, a coldness seeping into his gut. His voice was muted as he said: "Let's go home."
She released a sharp, pleased cry and flapped up onto his shoulder, her weight and claws comforting despite the ice in his veins. He turned away from Abdirak and started towards the mausoleum, though he stopped again as Abdirak's laugher filled the night. He Who Was and Quothe glared over their shoulders at him, four annoyed dark eyes.
"You mock me," He Who Was snarled.
"Correct," Abdirak replied. "Such stubbornness is amusing. That you would risk all that you have become, all that you clearly wish to explore, simply because you cannot say to me that you wish to stay."
He Who Was turned with a growl and stalked up to Abdirak until their faces were close. "Why would I wish to stay here? Experiencing these wretched things?"
"Is it wretched?" Abdirak asked, his voice dropping to a whisper. "How did it feel as you gazed upon that flower? Did your heart soar as you felt your companion's feathers upon your hand?"
He Who Was pursed his lips to stop them from trembling. After a moment he tightly asked: "What do you suggest?"
Abdirak laughed again before rolling his eyes and unleashing a theatric sigh. "Oh, He Who Was," the priest said grandly, throwing up his hands as though in a sermon. "Please reconsider! Why not stay in this world and see all it has to offer?"
"You're mocking me again," He Who Was said flatly, eyes narrow.
"Of course I am," Abdirak replied, voice returning to normal, hands dropping. "Now return with me to the inn, and let me finally get some blasted sleep."
He Who Was took a long moment to answer before finally sighing. "If you insist."
Abdirak rolled his eyes and smiled. "Oh, I do."
Quothe unleashed a furious squawk and lunged forward, her sharp beak striking Abdirak's forehead. The human took a surprised but unhurried step back, hand raising to the gash as blood poured over his face, appearing as black streaks in the moonlight.
"Quothe," He Who Was said curtly, and the raven's face snapped to him sharply before unleashing an utterly furious noise directly into his face from her wide beak. Her huge white wings unfurled and she flapped away, off to sulk no doubt.
"Your companion seems displeased with your decision," Abdirak said as he inspected his own bloodied fingers. "Or should I say, with my insistence that you remain." He gave He Who Was the tiniest little smile. "Come. She will return to you once she has calmed."
He Who Was remained silent, and fell into step beside Abdirak as he started on the way back to the ruins of Reithwin. Doubt gnawed at him. Previously, he had been under the thrall of the shadow curse. Now, he remained of his own will. Would Quothe still forgive this transgression? Was the loss of her by his side worth… whatever this was? He didn't know. He didn't even know if he wanted this. It didn't feel right. The way his heart would speed up and his stomach reacted strangely. His flesh would crawl, his jaw would clench, eyes and ears moving of their own accord. Yet something stopped He Who Was from returning to the Shadowfell, and it was not this ruined place and it was not the strange human priest who had saved him.
Not just.
Abdirak gained nothing but a headache from helping He Who Was. So why do it? True altruists were few and far between. Resolve settled into He Who Was' bones. This was why he had stayed. Abdirak was a puzzle in need of solving. There was much he did not know about the mysterious man, and he would find the answers. Then, perhaps, he would return to the Shadowfell and hopefully be free of these maddening feelings. Perhaps his well would be emptied once more.
For now though? For now, here he would stay.