The Mask of Mara - Chapter 30

Mara couldn’t believe her own perceptions. Her mind resonated with a feminine voice that intruded into her thoughts like fog rolling onto the coast. She was staring at the blinding powers she sought to reckon with, unable to hear her companions or feel the sickle beneath her fingertips. Was this death? The transition to Annun as it was meant to be seen?

“No. I’m actually speaking to myself.” She recognized it as her own voice as it pierced audibly through her frantic mind. Mentally, she took control of her thoughts and directed them towards releasing the magic in Avon Soram. She had to do it, against all odds and for any costs necessary.

“Really? What do I actually benefit from this? Was it not a few minutes passed that we were asking Armin to take us with him?” Her own voice interjected, bringing Mara’s thoughts back to her life before the war. The constant moving, the suspicious glances from strangers. These were the people she was to save in their superstition and cruelty? “Ah see now we’re getting it. The mask keeps us safe right? Keeps us happy?” The voice asked, as if a duplicate of herself stood directly behind her now. Mara attempted to look but found her body completely paralyzed by the sheer magnitude of power she attempted to wield.

Unable to see her interlocutor, Mara was forced to reckon with her questions. Then it slowly dawned on her. These things had happened with a mask to hide her hideousness. There had always been moments of weakness, moments wherein her true self could be seen. And the mask did not prevent them in perpetuity. But what else was there, beyond accepting the derision?

“Well, we could always enjoy less stuffy attire. We might actually look pretty good if we chose our own garb.” Her internal accuser pondered with facetious ease, a light conversational tone barely masking the sarcastic bite. Gods, was she really this insufferable? “Yes. But don’t blame us entirely. We have to constantly mither after the mask. Can’t have it slipping now, can we? At least, not again.” She jabbed at herself. Mara’s mind prickled with injured pride as she remembered the Herald’s taunts. The voice seemed to pick up on that, barely suppressed mirth emanating from behind her. “But we never answered the question. Do elves have horns, Mara?”

She’d grown tired of this inquisition, curling a lip despite herself. In fact, it was literally to spite herself. With as much bile as she could muster, she thought of how absurd the question was on the face of it. As if this world of magical meddling medleys of maladies could sustain anything so pedestrian as a static definition. To define her as outside her people set others outside as well. Which was all too fine if your world was as tiny and pathetic as Gaius Renaud’s. As Ardan’s.

“Oh, yes! We should definitely be using his actual name. Not the one he lied to us with for all those years. It’s almost as if he’s a massive hypocrite who told the Herald what he saw when the bandages didn’t cover us perfectly.” Mara’s voice crowed with elation, as if she’d reached some epiphany. Mara reminded herself, through this surreal circumstance, that Renaud had never been interested in reality. Just as Fred had warned, he only valued his fictions. What he wanted to be true in the moment. And all of that was entirely beside the fact that they were due to die any moment now. So, returning to the difficulty at hand. “This is the solution. The fact you’re not getting it isn’t my problem.”

Mara sighed at her own infuriating vagueness. It probably had something to do with her not knowing what she was doing. Then it stung the back of her mind. What was this device if not a giant staff? It collated energy passively, holding it for a mage’s convenience. But that did very little to address the problem of burning to death the second she drew upon it.

“We’ve literally been drawing upon it for the last few minutes. Once again, we have the power but not the direction. I suggest you pick one before we actually burn to death.” The voice behind her criticized, causing Mara to whip around with anger. She was about to give herself a piece of her own mind. What stared back at her was not what lay beneath the mask. The face of herself before that terrible day in the cave regarded her with a sardonic frown, hand on her hips in mock disapproval. With a flash of understanding, Mara knew at once what she had to do. With the slow smile creeping across her original face, she extended a hand to herself. Wordlessly, Mara took it. Her own face had broken into a smile. With a few clicks, she presented the mask to herself and brought down her hood.

“Ghost of what could have been. I release you from my service.” Mara laughed weakly, unable to contain her sheer euphoria. Her other self heaved a sigh of relief as she looked skywards. The look of joy upon her face moved to peaceful acceptance. She turned and began to walk away into the blinding white that surrounded them.

“Oh, right. I’ll give you access long enough to stop the feedback. Just don’t blow up the empire, alright?” The blonde version of herself informed her, turning to face her with a casual nod. “Should fall dormant once we’re done. You’ll need the Crook to wake it up again. I took the liberty of locking Ardan out!” She called as she faded from view, leaving Mara alone in the white expanse. She felt no surge of power, no rushing tidal wave of burning. She felt lighter, content at last. As if some weight that had been with her all her life had finally left her.

At first, Solvi saw Mara in constant struggle with whatever the magic had conjured. The barrier about them had begun to shrink with its creator’s distraction. They all huddled under the boughs of the segaris tree. Arthur murmured prayers, Julie and Solvi held each other closely. Twitcher and Fred played one last round of cards, the skitti man’s nose twitching in appreciation for his student’s progress. As they began to feel the grip of doubt, Mara turned about suddenly with her hands held aloft.

Her body became wreathed in white flames, the inferno about them wriggling as she asserted control over its majesty. In a voice reverberating with the power she commanded, she cast a spell of such devastating might that Solvi felt the very walls of the chamber shake. Rather than enunciated arcanography, as was commonplace for mages, Mara made her will understood in plain Gardish that all assembled may hear.

“I take in my hands the power of the gods. I speak not as your master but as your guide. Know as one who has walked your path that it shall be perilous. I gift unto you the knowledge of the path that you might walk it with dedication and restraint to the side of those lost and alone. Give unto them the comfort and solace you can offer. Then, return to the unseen ocean from which you were woven.” Mara spoke with authority and conviction, the purple flames turning a blinding white before they began to stream into the conduits that lined the ceiling of the chamber. Arthur stood up first, his mouth agape as he turned to Mara. Rather than use a spell or memory, she had recited the prayer of Eidolon Odim Sorvis. A fitting tribute to the god who had spared her from the pains of his realm.

“I set aside this blade now its task is done. May it never be drawn again.” Mara’s voice thundered as she turned, hand open as it was held to the tree’s branches. From her, the fire flitted to rest upon them. As it withdrew, the woman’s true form was revealed. It had burned away the mask, her robes and the gloves that had been her prison for so long.

Mara Ver Fatuil looked to be an ordinary woman in size and shape. Her hair, which had been cropped short to better fit her hood, was black with the prismatic sheen of a raven’s wing. From her forehead, the stubs of two horns protruded as if she would sport to curling ram horns. Her face was humanoid to be sure, the cheekbones made sharper by the protrusion to two more horns that rested over her ears. Her most striking feature were her eyes. Although they had seen the white irises and blackened sclera, they had not seen a third eye nestled vertically between the peaks of the horns under her skin. As she exhaled through dark purple lips, the shark-like teeth and forked tongue were visible briefly. Her black clawed hands and purple fingertips were withdrawn as she shrunk once more into herself. She ran her fingers over new additions- tattoos in the style of the Orsana, denoting her dedication to the magical arts.

“Ye spent seventy-two years wailin’ over that?!” Fred demanded with a laugh escaping his throat almost involuntarily. He could scarcely believe the stroke of luck they had as the control rods once more slid into their housing. The room around them began to grow darker until only the soft golden light of the segaris tree’s new leaves illuminated them. “Y’look just like any other elf I saw.” The skitti jested with an elbow to Mara’s ribs. She smiled through the pain, still looking about with arms crossed.

Without warning, Solvi strode from beneath the boughs to her companion’s side and placed a kiss upon her lips, arm wrapped about her waist. At first Mara foundered with surprise before all three eyes closed, the anxiety leaving her as a wave as the two remained embraced. Julie joined the pair, placing a more chaste kiss upon one of Mara’s horn stubs.

“I didn’t know the Arcane did tattoo artistry.” Solvi smirked in Mara’s ear, who blushed a deep purple at the observation. As they extricated themselves, the Orsan took a moment to appreciate each of the markings. Ever the linguist, the mage had managed to get the correct grammar. It even read right to left, something many forgot. “They’re beautiful.” The larger woman nodded approvingly, returning to Julie’s side as she inspected the tattoos herself.

“Well, I was wielding the power of a god and wanted to make some small changes while I was there. I have a giant portrait of Fred on my back.” Mara grinned, cheeks dimpling as her sharp teeth came once more into view. Arthur no longer worried how she was able to tear into her food with those bleeders. Fred, who’d been inspecting his friend’s now-sleeveless shirt, snorted with laughter as he checked the barely visible shoulder blades. The tattoos continued but he could not see even a stylized skitti ear. “It took me a long time. But it’s mine. And elves have horns if I damn well say they do.” The mage looked at her now-marked forearms contemplatively. She seemed lost in thought for the moment.

“I’m going to assume that’s a reference to something I wasn’t there for.” Solvi grunted, leaning more heavily on Julie, who visibly began to struggle. Mara’s eyes widened. She quickly manifested several circular platforms of light, onto which she eased Solvi. “Thanks. But think the infirmary is more what’s called for.” The Orsan smiled up at Mara, her face a picture of confusion as the discs began to carry her towards the gangway, her companions walking at her side. Fred slung his rifle over his shoulder, kneeling next to Ranva. He sighed and hung his head, taking a moment to retrieve her. When the weight proved too much, Arthur slung the woman over his shoulder with a solemn nod.

Mara looked to Ranva, face an unrestrained picture of regret. She could not save everyone. It hurt no less for that fact. Making mental note to give the Espali a proper burial, Mara took the vanguard as they walked through the smouldering remains of the Army camp. Several bodies lay slumped against the walls, already twitching with the passive curse that infested these lands. Her hyperbole was not too far off the mark, but revoking a curse laid by the god of death himself was something far outside even her expanded remit. She briefly wondered what Recala would do with so many new citizens.

The corridor led towards the interior of what was once a bunker designed to withstand the Godswar. Its engineers had simply not been informed at the time. The party entered it through a hole blasted into one of the walls, something Mara noted with regret. The large circular antechamber that branched off into the bunker proper was filled with black-armoured figures, some bearing the IXth Legion crest while others bore cloaks embroidered with the eight flames of Mira. They’d have to change that soon. Though from context, Mara surmised they were the elite soldiers of the Rev Chelli. Answerable to the council without a crown, she thought to herself with a wry grin. Several parted before her, holding their weapons at the ready. She supposed it was to be expected. After all, the entire facility quaked before a strange creature emerged. She waved sweetly to some of the more antsy soldiers, pushing past the final few who were busy taking statements and arresting those Army members that yet lived.

Beyond the cordon of soldiers, victims and perpetrators, a resplendent familiar figure argued animatedly with Recala. She wore deep crimson robes over her armour, helmet held professionally under her arm. Her black curls bounced with every emphatic statement, slender pale fingers jabbing Recala in the chest with the kind of conviction that came from extended familiarity. Madeline had come personally to see to their safety. Or capture. Knowing Idhara, both at once. Though Mara spied a gold circlet styled after the one that adorned Mira’s head nesting among the curls. A devious grin spread across her face as she approached, informing the others that she would have words with the vampire.

“Your grace. Or is it your majesty?” Mara bowed extravagantly, cutting off Madeline mid-breath as she prattled jurisdictional issues to Recala. The vampire queen turned to face Mara with a quick searching look, a frown painted across her face by the interruption. Then, recognition dawned in her eyes as she saw Mara’s unique irises.

“Neither. Lyn.” The vampire queen corrected with a firm handshake, her diplomatic training stifling any misgivings she had about Mara’s appearance. Recala, used to seeing far worse, simply arched an eyebrow at the interruption. “You look far more like yourself. I take it you have dealt with Professor Renaud?” Lyn complimented as she signed documents from an attaché of the Elysians.

“Ardan was attempting to use Avon Soram to break open Mira’s prison. My friends and I stopped him.” Mara relayed smartly, taking the broken rod of segaris wood from her robe. “It was not without sacrifice.” The mage recalled with a saddened voice. Even her sickle had been drained of all the magic she’d invested into it. Lyn looked at these relics with disinterest, turning to Recala with renewed concern. Once talk of a body began, Mara interjected quite suddenly. “He’s not dead. He fled with the Crook. But he will never again be able to use the device. I locked him out of it.” Mara corrected with sudden panic, not wanting to let her erstwhile sora entirely off the hook.

“You?” Recala asked incredulously, her face bewildered. Lyn looked to her smugly, as if some parlance they’d parleyed had come back to stab the undead elf in the back. “How did you even interact with it without the Crook?” The councillor asked with ever-increasing anxiety. Mara supposed it was only natural, worrying that perhaps the most versatile and powerful device on the planet could now be wielded by anyone with a modicum of magical talent.

“Mara is a special case. The alterations to her body have made her able to withstand a great many torments.” Lyn smiled reassuringly to Recala whilst the most surreptitious of winks found Mara’s eyeline. “Most likely, she brute-forced an entry around the traditional interface, knowing her body would stymy the retort. I’m sure she has no intentions of using it again.” The vampire queen said with such a pointed tone that Mara almost stabbed herself getting it. The mage took the hint and smiled at the two.

“Well now that I’ve settled a few scores, I would like to ask a favour. From either of you.” Mara informed the pair with a light tone, conversational even. The subject of favours brought a studied neutrality to the pair. Well, at least they were prepared to hear her out. “I’d like to borrow a Sanlater. Just for a week or so. And a crew, obviously. I can’t fly it myself. I need to visit two places and it would be very nice to do it as the crow flies.” The mage rattled off as swiftly as she dared, knowing that any excuse would do for these accomplished politicians. An oxymoronic phrase if ever there was one, Mara thought.

“Well, ah, we are unable to accommodate that request. We, uh, lost our last engineer. He hasn’t returned our sendings.” Recala coughed awkwardly. Lyn’s face split into a wicked fanged grin behind the councillor’s back before it was smoothed away, and a reassuring hand was placed on her emaciated shoulder. Any chance of refusing the request had just vanished in an international game of one-upmanship.

“Dear Recala, you should have sent for me! We have many engineers to repair your craft. And so many craft that of course we can spare one for our hero.” Lyn offered in a voice so saccharine that Mara felt it impinged on insult. She wore a big grin, unaware that she was doing so until Recala gave her a warning glare. “Captain Rochefort will be delighted to have you again. Care to part with your itinerary?” The vampire inquired, to which Mara gave coordinates. She didn’t seriously expect the vampire queen, sovereign of the empire that ruled sea and sky, not to know where she was going. But it was fun to make her work for it, after all she’d done. Once she’d made sure the queen had matters in hand, Mara casually suggested she’d return to Marie’s manor for pick up. All the political acumen in the world could not stop Lyn from rolling her eyes.

Content her business was concluded, Mara made her way towards the infirmary. It was hard to believe that so much had happened in the space of a day, yet here she stood. The sunset emblazoned the sky in a brilliant cornucopia of colour that set the mage’s soul to rest. The stars were barely visible beyond the rings of her home world. She watched as the denizens of Elys emerged from their houses and under their awnings to set their seats out. Already, the laughter and banter of games being played, songs being sung and arguments roaring to life began to pervade the streets. As she walked, she expected more derision or insults. Some glanced her way with the usual suspicion or disapproval. Blessedly, most were wrapped in the swaddling of their own lives to mind hers. Was it like this the world over, Mara wondered?

She stood before the grand buildings of the infirmary, watching for a moment as the busy orderlies dragged Army members and their victims alike on gurneys to their rooms. It would be a lie to say that it didn’t satisfy her that they’d failed so spectacularly. Perhaps now, faced with the reality of the ruin they’d brought to themselves, they might walk forwards as new people. Mara scoffed at her optimism, entering the building and making her way to Solvi’s room. The corridor stretched before her, the sunset illuminating the room in which Solvi lay. With some amusement, Mara saw a beleaguered Geoffrey restitching her injuries with a grumpy frown. He looked up, recognizing her after a few moments. Even he had to smile then. The party welcomed her in. Fred and Twitcher were finishing their game of cards while Julie criticized Geoffrey’s every strike of the needle. Arthur stood on the balcony, looking out over the bay contemplatively.

“Wha’d ‘er maj’ want?” Fred spoke through the stem of his pipe, puffing a rebellious smoke ring whenever Geoffrey dared raise complaint. Twitcher flicked their eyes to Mara briefly, nodding before returning to the conundrum the skitti had placed them in.

 “I was just arranging transport for myself. I need to handle a few things before I can rest.” Mara explained as she sat herself next to Solvi’s bed, settling into the upholstered chair. A whole new world of sensations had opened itself to her. For a lifetime she had not felt anything but the inside of her gloves. Now she relished the leather of the chair, the wind playing across her cheeks from the balcony. She didn’t even mind the sensation of her claws accidentally digging into the wood of her seat. She really needed to find a brave barber to tackle them.

“You mean Renaud?” Solvi winced as she watched the needle swim through the taut flesh of her stomach. Geoffrey seemed satisfied with his work as he cut the thread, tying it off. With an almost challenging glare he redressed Solvi’s bandages. He seemed to be daring her to attempt fighting the professor in her state.

“He’s one element. But he can wait. Or rather, he is forced to wait until I’m good and ready to deal with him.” Mara responded in a hardened voice. Solvi and Julie looked somewhat confused but allowed it to slide as Geoffrey began rattling off clinical demands. As the countess’ personal physician, butler and dogsbody, he took his duty to the empire and its allies very seriously. “I need to apologize to someone. Several someones, actually. Chief among them, all of you. All of this began because of my hubris. My delusion. Ardan lit the fuse, but I was a powder keg long before he arrived.” Mara bowed her head in acknowledgement before turning her eyes once more to Solvi.

“You owe me no apologies. We all make mistakes in service to our scars. And you have done all I ask for that mistake.” Solvi affirmed, placing a strong hand on Mara’s shoulder. She beamed in response, eyes closed with contentment. Solvi stifled a laugh, grunting as her stomach protested her mirth.

“I’m the best mistake you ever made.” Twitcher chirped up cheekily, slapping down a card with a shout of triumph. Fred looked over the table for a few moments, then up to Twitcher. He leaned back in his chair with a proud twitch of his whiskers. “This time is strange. But it is now part of me. I would be lost without you. Any of you.” The Elysian reassured before seeming to return to their usual state, mechanical lips twitching with sudden indignity. “Now forget I said that. We go again.” They commanded, taking the cards back into the deck and beginning to shuffle them.

Mara sat in silence for a while after that, simply enjoying the company. The lack of mask had taken all subtlety from her, every emotion she felt played across her face without reservation. Recala came to visit and offer her congratulations in a stiff, stilted speech that offered apartments for their use in the Palace. As far as moves went, that was a good answer to Lyn’s gambit. At the mention of a feast in their honour, Fred became considerably more animated. Food after a good fight, nothing better in his view.

Mara followed her friends out of the infirmary, giving Julie and Solvi some much needed privacy. She did not expect the call that came from over her shoulder, Julie summoning her back. With a bemused expression, the elf made her way to Solvi’s bedside once more. She did not sit down, preferring to be quick about it. Her mind may be restless, but her body had markedly different ideas.

“I am not sure if it is rude to ask, but I must know.” Julie began with a furtive look towards the corridor behind Mara. The mage supposed that she was all too aware that the walls had ears. “What spell did you cast using the weapon?” She asked. Mara’s eyes flicked to Solvi who nodded. So, this question came from both of them. There was some reticence, but she could not lie to Solvi nor deny her the answers she needed.

“Ardan saw it as a weapon. It’s a tool. When you deign to use it, it shows you who you really are. Ardan couldn’t let go of the rage that made him a great mage ordinarily. What he was asking it to do is impossible.” Mara began, looking out over the now moonlit bay with a pensive expression. He’d been unified in drive and knowledge, every spell cast in service to his goal. But the past would not bend, not even for the mightiest mage. Even if he’d merely been attempting resurrection, such spells required a willing soul. She supposed that Mira was long since tired of manipulators and charlatans. A sentiment she shared, as she composed how best to explain her spell. “His crusade and his minions hurt a great many people. I couldn’t fabricate new homes for them nor return to them their lost loves. But I could at least repair the damage done. Everyone who goes to those temples now will receive a small portion of the largest healing spell ever cast.” Mara explained casually, turning to look at Fred’s long since gone form. “Fred could regrow his eye, if he wanted. Ranva could have healed her scars. The gods will grant miracles. For a time.” Mara spoke morosely, moved to sudden sadness by the passing of their ally. She was unsure if she had family and resolved to find out.

“Can you fix Solvi’s injuries?” Julie asked with fascination.

“That’s the funny thing about me, Julie. I keep a small portion of every spell I ever cast. I was hoping to do it at the manor, just in case Geoffrey had criticisms.” Mara recalled with the same melancholic thoughts playing through her mind. Already, her thoughts had turned to a spell that gave necromancy its name. To speak with the dead and heed their wisdom. Had she not been judged she was well within reach. But she saw to the problem at hand, a spark of white fire igniting between her hands as she uttered the spell. Solvi seemed amazed that she could wield radiant energies without agony before Mara placed a hand on her forehead, another at her injury. The large Orsan woman’s eyes scrunched shut with a hiss of pain as the magic took effect. Mara was determined, withdrawing her hand when only scar tissue remained. She clucked her tongue with disapproval once Julie peeled back the bandages to reveal her work. “There shouldn’t be a scar. Needs some review.” Mara criticised as she stood up to check over her patient.

“I think it’s rather fetching.” Julie purred, running her fingers over the scar. Mara cleared her throat quite suddenly, purple returning to her cheeks. Once she’d finished checking the musculature, she turned to leave with a satisfied nod. It would be sore, but no lasting damage had been done by her foray into healing magic. She would have to consult Arthur for advice before she attempted it again.

Taken by her earlier idea, the necromancer began by asking directions to the morgue. It took much cajoling and pulling rank as the saviour of Elys, but she was eventually given a supervised tour of the dank basement that acted as the infirmary’s mausoleum. Mara knew it was so before she even entered the morgue proper, as bodies lay in the corridors outside with orderlies busily identifying them and categorizing each by specific need. They were corpses in Elys, after all. It wouldn’t take forever. Mara hoped to be by Ranva’s side before the curse took effect.

A brown-haired attendant in large glasses opened the cabinet that contained Ranva, panicking as she saw the state of Ranva’s body. Mara chuckled at the attendant, placating her. The poor Espali woman had been through a lot, and she hoped she wouldn’t mind one last intrusion. The necromancer’s hand ignited with a green flame, reaching out to place it upon Ranva’s forehead. The attendant grabbed her wrist with suspicion. It only took a swift explanation of the spell and its purpose. Very few people got to say goodbye in a manner of their choosing. She could at least give that gift.

The rushing sensation of her mind being carried elsewhere was soon dissipated, Mara opening her eyes in the prismatic halls that she’d been in hours earlier. Sitting comfortably before a purple-hued fire, Ranva read a book in peaceful repose. That was until a pale mage fell from the ceiling into a chair that materialized opposite of her own. The Espali practically leapt from her study, brandishing her book with both hands over her shoulder.

“Calm down! I’m here to speak to you.” Mara grunted as she clicked her neck. Armin had always made it sound easier in his recollections. Once Ranva actually recognized her conversation partner, she sat herself down with a suspicious stare. Curiously, her scars remained even in this place. They would fade in time with all else, but it was strange that they still existed. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I came to ask if there’s anything I can do. Someone I can contact. Resurrection is off the table I’m afraid. Not good enough for that just yet.” Mara relayed apologetically with her fingers knotted together on her lap. Ranva’s face was thoughtful for a moment before she sighed, meeting Mara’s eyes with a look of relief. A look that surprised the younger elf.

“My daughter, Dana. Take me to her.” Ranva requested with a curiously accepting air. When Armin had done this in the past, he spoke of spirits refusing to accept their death. Refusing to even engage with him. For this reason alone, Mara listened intently. “Tell her that I died fighting for a righteous cause. Please do not mention the devils. And tell her that I found peace.” Ranva added the last statement with some trepidation. She looked to Mara, then to the double doors behind the mage. A look of anxiety crossed her features. “Will there be peace, necromancer? Will the screams finally stop?”

“Annun strips away the memories of the spirits within it. Nobody knows why. For many, it’s a curse. A true death.” Mara thought aloud as she looked over Ranva’s shoulder to the stout wooden door. “For you, I imagine that’s a blessing.” The necromancer then stood and offered her hand to her ally. Bringing Ranva to her feet, Mara enfolded the other woman in an embrace. Which she returned, surprising the shorter elf. “I’ll do what you ask. I’m sorry.” Mara apologized again, beginning to walk towards the exit she’d created on her way in.

“Don’t hold regret for the dead. After all, our struggle is over.” Ranva observed as Mara opened the door. The words stung her ears with their truth. Perhaps the Espali knew what she intended to do. Mara closed the door behind herself and emerged into the world of the living once more.

Mara couldn't believe her own perceptions. Her mind resonated with a feminine voice that intruded into her thoughts like fog rolling onto the coast. She was staring at the blinding powers she sought to reckon with, unable to hear her companions or feel the sickle beneath her fingertips. Was this death? The transition to Annun as it was meant to be seen? No. I'm actually speaking to myself. She recognized it as her own voice as it pierced audibly through her frantic mind. Mentally, she took control of her thoughts and directed them towards releasing the magic in Avon Soram. She had to do it, against all odds and for any costs necessary. Really? What do I actually benefit from this? Was it not a few minutes passed that we were asking Armin to take us with him? Her own voice interjected, bringing Mara's thoughts back to her life before the war. The constant moving, the suspicious glances from strangers. These were the people she was to save in their superstition and cruelty? Ah see now we're getting it. The mask keeps us safe right? Keeps us happy? The voice asked, as if a duplicate of herself stood directly behind her now. Mara attempted to look but found her body completely paralyzed by the sheer magnitude of power she attempted to wield. Unable to see her interlocutor, Mara was forced to reckon with her questions. Then it slowly dawned on her. These things had happened with a mask to hide her hideousness. There had always been moments of weakness, moments wherein her true self could be seen. And the mask did not prevent them in perpetuity. But what else was there, beyond accepting the derision? Well, we could always enjoy less stuffy attire. We might actually look pretty good if we chose our own garb. Her internal accuser pondered with facetious ease, a light conversational tone barely masking the sarcastic bite. Gods, was she really this insufferable? Yes. But don't blame us entirely. We have to constantly mither after the mask. Can't have it slipping now, can we? At least, not again. She jabbed at herself. Mara's mind prickled with injured pride as she remembered the Herald's taunts. The voice seemed to pick up on that, barely suppressed mirth emanating from behind her. But we never answered the question. Do elves have horns, Mara? She'd grown tired of this inquisition, curling a lip despite herself. In fact, it was literally to spite herself. With as much bile as she could muster, she thought of how absurd the question was on the face of it. As if this world of magical meddling medleys of maladies could sustain anything so pedestrian as a static definition. To define her as outside her people set others outside as well. Which was all too fine if your world was as tiny and pathetic as Gaius Renaud's. As Ardan's. Oh, yes! We should definitely be using his actual name. Not the one he lied to us with for all those years. It's almost as if he's a massive hypocrite who told the Herald what he saw when the bandages didn't cover us perfectly. Mara's voice crowed with elation, as if she'd reached some epiphany. Mara reminded herself, through this surreal circumstance, that Renaud had never been interested in reality. Just as Fred had warned, he only valued his fictions. What he wanted to be true in the moment. And all of that was entirely beside the fact that they were due to die any moment now. So, returning to the difficulty at hand. This is the solution. The fact you're not getting it isn't my problem. Mara sighed at her own infuriating vagueness. It probably had something to do with her not knowing what she was doing. Then it stung the back of her mind. What was this device if not a giant staff? It collated energy passively, holding it for a mage's convenience. But that did very little to address the problem of burning to death the second she drew upon it. We've literally been drawing upon it for the last few minutes. Once again, we have the power but not the direction. I suggest you pick one before we actually burn to death. The voice behind her criticized, causing Mara to whip around with anger. She was about to give herself a piece of her own mind. What stared back at her was not what lay beneath the mask. The face of herself before that terrible day in the cave regarded her with a sardonic frown, hand on her hips in mock disapproval. With a flash of understanding, Mara knew at once what she had to do. With the slow smile creeping across her original face, she extended a hand to herself. Wordlessly, Mara took it. Her own face had broken into a smile. With a few clicks, she presented the mask to herself and brought down her hood. Ghost of what could have been. I release you from my service. Mara laughed weakly, unable to contain her sheer euphoria. Her other self heaved a sigh of relief as she looked skywards. The look of joy upon her face moved to peaceful acceptance. She turned and began to walk away into the blinding white that surrounded them. Oh, right. I'll give you access long enough to stop the feedback. Just don't blow up the empire, alright? The blonde version of herself informed her, turning to face her with a casual nod. Should fall dormant once we're done. You'll need the Crook to wake it up again. I took the liberty of locking Ardan out! She called as she faded from view, leaving Mara alone in the white expanse. She felt no surge of power, no rushing tidal wave of burning. She felt lighter, content at last. As if some weight that had been with her all her life had finally left her. At first, Solvi saw Mara in constant struggle with whatever the magic had conjured. The barrier about them had begun to shrink with its creator's distraction. They all huddled under the boughs of the segaris tree. Arthur murmured prayers, Julie and Solvi held each other closely. Twitcher and Fred played one last round of cards, the skitti man's nose twitching in appreciation for his student's progress. As they began to feel the grip of doubt, Mara turned about suddenly with her hands held aloft. Her body became wreathed in white flames, the inferno about them wriggling as she asserted control over its majesty. In a voice reverberating with the power she commanded, she cast a spell of such devastating might that Solvi felt the very walls of the chamber shake. Rather than enunciated arcanography, as was commonplace for mages, Mara made her will understood in plain Gardish that all assembled may hear. I take in my hands the power of the gods. I speak not as your master but as your guide. Know as one who has walked your path that it shall be perilous. I gift unto you the knowledge of the path that you might walk it with dedication and restraint to the side of those lost and alone. Give unto them the comfort and solace you can offer. Then, return to the unseen ocean from which you were woven. Mara spoke with authority and conviction, the purple flames turning a blinding white before they began to stream into the conduits that lined the ceiling of the chamber. Arthur stood up first, his mouth agape as he turned to Mara. Rather than use a spell or memory, she had recited the prayer of Eidolon Odim Sorvis. A fitting tribute to the god who had spared her from the pains of his realm. I set aside this blade now its task is done. May it never be drawn again. Mara's voice thundered as she turned, hand open as it was held to the tree's branches. From her, the fire flitted to rest upon them. As it withdrew, the woman's true form was revealed. It had burned away the mask, her robes and the gloves that had been her prison for so long. Mara Ver Fatuil looked to be an ordinary woman in size and shape. Her hair, which had been cropped short to better fit her hood, was black with the prismatic sheen of a raven's wing. From her forehead, the stubs of two horns protruded as if she would sport to curling ram horns. Her face was humanoid to be sure, the cheekbones made sharper by the protrusion to two more horns that rested over her ears. Her most striking feature were her eyes. Although they had seen the white irises and blackened sclera, they had not seen a third eye nestled vertically between the peaks of the horns under her skin. As she exhaled through dark purple lips, the shark-like teeth and forked tongue were visible briefly. Her black clawed hands and purple fingertips were withdrawn as she shrunk once more into herself. She ran her fingers over new additions- tattoos in the style of the Orsana, denoting her dedication to the magical arts. Ye spent seventy-two years wailin' over that?! Fred demanded with a laugh escaping his throat almost involuntarily. He could scarcely believe the stroke of luck they had as the control rods once more slid into their housing. The room around them began to grow darker until only the soft golden light of the segaris tree's new leaves illuminated them. Y'look just like any other elf I saw. The skitti jested with an elbow to Mara's ribs. She smiled through the pain, still looking about with arms crossed. Without warning, Solvi strode from beneath the boughs to her companion's side and placed a kiss upon her lips, arm wrapped about her waist. At first Mara foundered with surprise before all three eyes closed, the anxiety leaving her as a wave as the two remained embraced. Julie joined the pair, placing a more chaste kiss upon one of Mara's horn stubs. I didn't know the Arcane did tattoo artistry. Solvi smirked in Mara's ear, who blushed a deep purple at the observation. As they extricated themselves, the Orsan took a moment to appreciate each of the markings. Ever the linguist, the mage had managed to get the correct grammar. It even read right to left, something many forgot. They're beautiful. The larger woman nodded approvingly, returning to Julie's side as she inspected the tattoos herself. Well, I was wielding the power of a god and wanted to make some small changes while I was there. I have a giant portrait of Fred on my back. Mara grinned, cheeks dimpling as her sharp teeth came once more into view. Arthur no longer worried how she was able to tear into her food with those bleeders. Fred, who'd been inspecting his friend's now-sleeveless shirt, snorted with laughter as he checked the barely visible shoulder blades. The tattoos continued but he could not see even a stylized skitti ear. It took me a long time. But it's mine. And elves have horns if I damn well say they do. The mage looked at her now-marked forearms contemplatively. She seemed lost in thought for the moment. I'm going to assume that's a reference to something I wasn't there for. Solvi grunted, leaning more heavily on Julie, who visibly began to struggle. Mara's eyes widened. She quickly manifested several circular platforms of light, onto which she eased Solvi. Thanks. But think the infirmary is more what's called for. The Orsan smiled up at Mara, her face a picture of confusion as the discs began to carry her towards the gangway, her companions walking at her side. Fred slung his rifle over his shoulder, kneeling next to Ranva. He sighed and hung his head, taking a moment to retrieve her. When the weight proved too much, Arthur slung the woman over his shoulder with a solemn nod. Mara looked to Ranva, face an unrestrained picture of regret. She could not save everyone. It hurt no less for that fact. Making mental note to give the Espali a proper burial, Mara took the vanguard as they walked through the smouldering remains of the Army camp. Several bodies lay slumped against the walls, already twitching with the passive curse that infested these lands. Her hyperbole was not too far off the mark, but revoking a curse laid by the god of death himself was something far outside even her expanded remit. She briefly wondered what Recala would do with so many new citizens. The corridor led towards the interior of what was once a bunker designed to withstand the Godswar. Its engineers had simply not been informed at the time. The party entered it through a hole blasted into one of the walls, something Mara noted with regret. The large circular antechamber that branched off into the bunker proper was filled with black-armoured figures, some bearing the IXth Legion crest while others bore cloaks embroidered with the eight flames of Mira. They'd have to change that soon. Though from context, Mara surmised they were the elite soldiers of the Rev Chelli. Answerable to the council without a crown, she thought to herself with a wry grin. Several parted before her, holding their weapons at the ready. She supposed it was to be expected. After all, the entire facility quaked before a strange creature emerged. She waved sweetly to some of the more antsy soldiers, pushing past the final few who were busy taking statements and arresting those Army members that yet lived. Beyond the cordon of soldiers, victims and perpetrators, a resplendent familiar figure argued animatedly with Recala. She wore deep crimson robes over her armour, helmet held professionally under her arm. Her black curls bounced with every emphatic statement, slender pale fingers jabbing Recala in the chest with the kind of conviction that came from extended familiarity. Madeline had come personally to see to their safety. Or capture. Knowing Idhara, both at once. Though Mara spied a gold circlet styled after the one that adorned Mira's head nesting among the curls. A devious grin spread across her face as she approached, informing the others that she would have words with the vampire. Your grace. Or is it your majesty? Mara bowed extravagantly, cutting off Madeline mid-breath as she prattled jurisdictional issues to Recala. The vampire queen turned to face Mara with a quick searching look, a frown painted across her face by the interruption. Then, recognition dawned in her eyes as she saw Mara's unique irises. Neither. Lyn. The vampire queen corrected with a firm handshake, her diplomatic training stifling any misgivings she had about Mara's appearance. Recala, used to seeing far worse, simply arched an eyebrow at the interruption. You look far more like yourself. I take it you have dealt with Professor Renaud? Lyn complimented as she signed documents from an attach of the Elysians. Ardan was attempting to use Avon Soram to break open Mira's prison. My friends and I stopped him. Mara relayed smartly, taking the broken rod of segaris wood from her robe. It was not without sacrifice. The mage recalled with a saddened voice. Even her sickle had been drained of all the magic she'd invested into it. Lyn looked at these relics with disinterest, turning to Recala with renewed concern. Once talk of a body began, Mara interjected quite suddenly. He's not dead. He fled with the Crook. But he will never again be able to use the device. I locked him out of it. Mara corrected with sudden panic, not wanting to let her erstwhile sora entirely off the hook. You? Recala asked incredulously, her face bewildered. Lyn looked to her smugly, as if some parlance they'd parleyed had come back to stab the undead elf in the back. How did you even interact with it without the Crook? The councillor asked with ever-increasing anxiety. Mara supposed it was only natural, worrying that perhaps the most versatile and powerful device on the planet could now be wielded by anyone with a modicum of magical talent. Mara is a special case. The alterations to her body have made her able to withstand a great many torments. Lyn smiled reassuringly to Recala whilst the most surreptitious of winks found Mara's eyeline. Most likely, she brute-forced an entry around the traditional interface, knowing her body would stymy the retort. I'm sure she has no intentions of using it again. The vampire queen said with such a pointed tone that Mara almost stabbed herself getting it. The mage took the hint and smiled at the two. Well now that I've settled a few scores, I would like to ask a favour. From either of you. Mara informed the pair with a light tone, conversational even. The subject of favours brought a studied neutrality to the pair. Well, at least they were prepared to hear her out. I'd like to borrow a Sanlater. Just for a week or so. And a crew, obviously. I can't fly it myself. I need to visit two places and it would be very nice to do it as the crow flies. The mage rattled off as swiftly as she dared, knowing that any excuse would do for these accomplished politicians. An oxymoronic phrase if ever there was one, Mara thought. Well, ah, we are unable to accommodate that request. We, uh, lost our last engineer. He hasn't returned our sendings. Recala coughed awkwardly. Lyn's face split into a wicked fanged grin behind the councillor's back before it was smoothed away, and a reassuring hand was placed on her emaciated shoulder. Any chance of refusing the request had just vanished in an international game of one-upmanship. Dear Recala, you should have sent for me! We have many engineers to repair your craft. And so many craft that of course we can spare one for our hero. Lyn offered in a voice so saccharine that Mara felt it impinged on insult. She wore a big grin, unaware that she was doing so until Recala gave her a warning glare. Captain Rochefort will be delighted to have you again. Care to part with your itinerary? The vampire inquired, to which Mara gave coordinates. She didn't seriously expect the vampire queen, sovereign of the empire that ruled sea and sky, not to know where she was going. But it was fun to make her work for it, after all she'd done. Once she'd made sure the queen had matters in hand, Mara casually suggested she'd return to Marie's manor for pick up. All the political acumen in the world could not stop Lyn from rolling her eyes. Content her business was concluded, Mara made her way towards the infirmary. It was hard to believe that so much had happened in the space of a day, yet here she stood. The sunset emblazoned the sky in a brilliant cornucopia of colour that set the mage's soul to rest. The stars were barely visible beyond the rings of her home world. She watched as the denizens of Elys emerged from their houses and under their awnings to set their seats out. Already, the laughter and banter of games being played, songs being sung and arguments roaring to life began to pervade the streets. As she walked, she expected more derision or insults. Some glanced her way with the usual suspicion or disapproval. Blessedly, most were wrapped in the swaddling of their own lives to mind hers. Was it like this the world over, Mara wondered? She stood before the grand buildings of the infirmary, watching for a moment as the busy orderlies dragged Army members and their victims alike on gurneys to their rooms. It would be a lie to say that it didn't satisfy her that they'd failed so spectacularly. Perhaps now, faced with the reality of the ruin they'd brought to themselves, they might walk forwards as new people. Mara scoffed at her optimism, entering the building and making her way to Solvi's room. The corridor stretched before her, the sunset illuminating the room in which Solvi lay. With some amusement, Mara saw a beleaguered Geoffrey restitching her injuries with a grumpy frown. He looked up, recognizing her after a few moments. Even he had to smile then. The party welcomed her in. Fred and Twitcher were finishing their game of cards while Julie criticized Geoffrey's every strike of the needle. Arthur stood on the balcony, looking out over the bay contemplatively. Wha'd er maj' want? Fred spoke through the stem of his pipe, puffing a rebellious smoke ring whenever Geoffrey dared raise complaint. Twitcher flicked their eyes to Mara briefly, nodding before returning to the conundrum the skitti had placed them in. I was just arranging transport for myself. I need to handle a few things before I can rest. Mara explained as she sat herself next to Solvi's bed, settling into the upholstered chair. A whole new world of sensations had opened itself to her. For a lifetime she had not felt anything but the inside of her gloves. Now she relished the leather of the chair, the wind playing across her cheeks from the balcony. She didn't even mind the sensation of her claws accidentally digging into the wood of her seat. She really needed to find a brave barber to tackle them. You mean Renaud? Solvi winced as she watched the needle swim through the taut flesh of her stomach. Geoffrey seemed satisfied with his work as he cut the thread, tying it off. With an almost challenging glare he redressed Solvi's bandages. He seemed to be daring her to attempt fighting the professor in her state. He's one element. But he can wait. Or rather, he is forced to wait until I'm good and ready to deal with him. Mara responded in a hardened voice. Solvi and Julie looked somewhat confused but allowed it to slide as Geoffrey began rattling off clinical demands. As the countess' personal physician, butler and dogsbody, he took his duty to the empire and its allies very seriously. I need to apologize to someone. Several someones, actually. Chief among them, all of you. All of this began because of my hubris. My delusion. Ardan lit the fuse, but I was a powder keg long before he arrived. Mara bowed her head in acknowledgement before turning her eyes once more to Solvi. You owe me no apologies. We all make mistakes in service to our scars. And you have done all I ask for that mistake. Solvi affirmed, placing a strong hand on Mara's shoulder. She beamed in response, eyes closed with contentment. Solvi stifled a laugh, grunting as her stomach protested her mirth. I'm the best mistake you ever made. Twitcher chirped up cheekily, slapping down a card with a shout of triumph. Fred looked over the table for a few moments, then up to Twitcher. He leaned back in his chair with a proud twitch of his whiskers. This time is strange. But it is now part of me. I would be lost without you. Any of you. The Elysian reassured before seeming to return to their usual state, mechanical lips twitching with sudden indignity. Now forget I said that. We go again. They commanded, taking the cards back into the deck and beginning to shuffle them. Mara sat in silence for a while after that, simply enjoying the company. The lack of mask had taken all subtlety from her, every emotion she felt played across her face without reservation. Recala came to visit and offer her congratulations in a stiff, stilted speech that offered apartments for their use in the Palace. As far as moves went, that was a good answer to Lyn's gambit. At the mention of a feast in their honour, Fred became considerably more animated. Food after a good fight, nothing better in his view. Mara followed her friends out of the infirmary, giving Julie and Solvi some much needed privacy. She did not expect the call that came from over her shoulder, Julie summoning her back. With a bemused expression, the elf made her way to Solvi's bedside once more. She did not sit down, preferring to be quick about it. Her mind may be restless, but her body had markedly different ideas. I am not sure if it is rude to ask, but I must know. Julie began with a furtive look towards the corridor behind Mara. The mage supposed that she was all too aware that the walls had ears. What spell did you cast using the weapon? She asked. Mara's eyes flicked to Solvi who nodded. So, this question came from both of them. There was some reticence, but she could not lie to Solvi nor deny her the answers she needed. Ardan saw it as a weapon. It's a tool. When you deign to use it, it shows you who you really are. Ardan couldn't let go of the rage that made him a great mage ordinarily. What he was asking it to do is impossible. Mara began, looking out over the now moonlit bay with a pensive expression. He'd been unified in drive and knowledge, every spell cast in service to his goal. But the past would not bend, not even for the mightiest mage. Even if he'd merely been attempting resurrection, such spells required a willing soul. She supposed that Mira was long since tired of manipulators and charlatans. A sentiment she shared, as she composed how best to explain her spell. His crusade and his minions hurt a great many people. I couldn't fabricate new homes for them nor return to them their lost loves. But I could at least repair the damage done. Everyone who goes to those temples now will receive a small portion of the largest healing spell ever cast. Mara explained casually, turning to look at Fred's long since gone form. Fred could regrow his eye, if he wanted. Ranva could have healed her scars. The gods will grant miracles. For a time. Mara spoke morosely, moved to sudden sadness by the passing of their ally. She was unsure if she had family and resolved to find out. Can you fix Solvi's injuries? Julie asked with fascination. That's the funny thing about me, Julie. I keep a small portion of every spell I ever cast. I was hoping to do it at the manor, just in case Geoffrey had criticisms. Mara recalled with the same melancholic thoughts playing through her mind. Already, her thoughts had turned to a spell that gave necromancy its name. To speak with the dead and heed their wisdom. Had she not been judged she was well within reach. But she saw to the problem at hand, a spark of white fire igniting between her hands as she uttered the spell. Solvi seemed amazed that she could wield radiant energies without agony before Mara placed a hand on her forehead, another at her injury. The large Orsan woman's eyes scrunched shut with a hiss of pain as the magic took effect. Mara was determined, withdrawing her hand when only scar tissue remained. She clucked her tongue with disapproval once Julie peeled back the bandages to reveal her work. There shouldn't be a scar. Needs some review. Mara criticised as she stood up to check over her patient. I think it's rather fetching. Julie purred, running her fingers over the scar. Mara cleared her throat quite suddenly, purple returning to her cheeks. Once she'd finished checking the musculature, she turned to leave with a satisfied nod. It would be sore, but no lasting damage had been done by her foray into healing magic. She would have to consult Arthur for advice before she attempted it again. Taken by her earlier idea, the necromancer began by asking directions to the morgue. It took much cajoling and pulling rank as the saviour of Elys, but she was eventually given a supervised tour of the dank basement that acted as the infirmary's mausoleum. Mara knew it was so before she even entered the morgue proper, as bodies lay in the corridors outside with orderlies busily identifying them and categorizing each by specific need. They were corpses in Elys, after all. It wouldn't take forever. Mara hoped to be by Ranva's side before the curse took effect. A brown-haired attendant in large glasses opened the cabinet that contained Ranva, panicking as she saw the state of Ranva's body. Mara chuckled at the attendant, placating her. The poor Espali woman had been through a lot, and she hoped she wouldn't mind one last intrusion. The necromancer's hand ignited with a green flame, reaching out to place it upon Ranva's forehead. The attendant grabbed her wrist with suspicion. It only took a swift explanation of the spell and its purpose. Very few people got to say goodbye in a manner of their choosing. She could at least give that gift. The rushing sensation of her mind being carried elsewhere was soon dissipated, Mara opening her eyes in the prismatic halls that she'd been in hours earlier. Sitting comfortably before a purple-hued fire, Ranva read a book in peaceful repose. That was until a pale mage fell from the ceiling into a chair that materialized opposite of her own. The Espali practically leapt from her study, brandishing her book with both hands over her shoulder. Calm down! I'm here to speak to you. Mara grunted as she clicked her neck. Armin had always made it sound easier in his recollections. Once Ranva actually recognized her conversation partner, she sat herself down with a suspicious stare. Curiously, her scars remained even in this place. They would fade in time with all else, but it was strange that they still existed. I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I came to ask if there's anything I can do. Someone I can contact. Resurrection is off the table I'm afraid. Not good enough for that just yet. Mara relayed apologetically with her fingers knotted together on her lap. Ranva's face was thoughtful for a moment before she sighed, meeting Mara's eyes with a look of relief. A look that surprised the younger elf. My daughter, Dana. Take me to her. Ranva requested with a curiously accepting air. When Armin had done this in the past, he spoke of spirits refusing to accept their death. Refusing to even engage with him. For this reason alone, Mara listened intently. Tell her that I died fighting for a righteous cause. Please do not mention the devils. And tell her that I found peace. Ranva added the last statement with some trepidation. She looked to Mara, then to the double doors behind the mage. A look of anxiety crossed her features. Will there be peace, necromancer? Will the screams finally stop? Annun strips away the memories of the spirits within it. Nobody knows why. For many, it's a curse. A true death. Mara thought aloud as she looked over Ranva's shoulder to the stout wooden door. For you, I imagine that's a blessing. The necromancer then stood and offered her hand to her ally. Bringing Ranva to her feet, Mara enfolded the other woman in an embrace. Which she returned, surprising the shorter elf. I'll do what you ask. I'm sorry. Mara apologized again, beginning to walk towards the exit she'd created on her way in. Don't hold regret for the dead. After all, our struggle is over. Ranva observed as Mara opened the door. The words stung her ears with their truth. Perhaps the Espali knew what she intended to do. Mara closed the door behind herself and emerged into the world of the living once more.