प्रतिकार

Grimm nodded; he was happy Usai was still in good spirits after what she had been through. The death of Alivander Rusmann still shook him, even though he had only met the man once. Grimm had shared a very potent secret with the witch, one that Alivander had apparently taken to his grave. Grimm usually handled the rouge phantoms on his own, by his own hand. It was a bit of good luck that Alivander took care of the Nottingham Lord for him. Still, the aftermath of Alivander’s death resonated on Usai’s face. Had he known her better, or had she come to him sooner, perhaps he could have protected her from the emotion.

Then again, the curse of immortality was watching those that you loved grow and die. It was imperative to make friends, but also imperative to know when to let them go. Grimm only hoped that this incident opened Usai’s eyes to her new world. After this madness with Natalia and after her lessons, it would be time for Usai to return home and tell her parents the truth.

“Watch,”

Grimm focused on the unattended bottle of ale sitting on the ground by a soldiers feet. They laughed and joked with one another about Night Haven, stumbling over their words already quite drunk for the night. The bottle lifted straight into the air high above there heads, then levitated over to Grimm’s outstretched hand in the tree. Spilling only some, he hummed in approval and took a hearty swig. “Ah, delicious,” Though it was not ideal for hydration, the alcohol would be a pleasant addition to their meal.

“Now you. Use your hand, if you must, to direct the path. That basket of bread by the wagon will do nice for dinner tonight. Beatrice believes that’s all you can handle, at least,” Grimm snickered to himself in a coy way, wondering if Usai would take the bait. “After we eat, we will head east,”

Truth be told, Usai wasn’t particularly keen on asking who this ‘Beatrice’ was. Grimm was an odd sort of fellow and had lived through many a century. She didn’t expect much of what he said to make sense to her, especially not when it seemed to be one of his own private jokes. But, telekinesis was something she was… slightly comfortable with. After learning of the ability in the spring she had set about practicing it. Not that she had mastered it by the time Grimm had caught her trying to use it only a few short months ago. Still, how hard could it be?

“Good, I feel as though I’m going to have an imprint from the bark on my bum for the rest of my days,” she softly grumbled, her attention narrowing in on the camp. She waited for the guards to turn their attentions elsewhere, not that they were paying all that much mind in the first place… and lifted the basket high into the air as Grimm had done with the ale. But, whoops. A little too high. She held it there for a moment, making sure it hadn’t been noticed, and started to bring it closer. Slowly. Oh so slowly. The basket seemed to crawl through the air, swinging in what was surely a stiff breeze.

“I know it’s slow, but better to have bread left in the basket,” she stated. Whether Grimm would have teased her for it or not, she spoke only because she was feeling a little defensive of her untrained ability.

Still ever so slow, the basket began to lower. Though she had misjudged the reach of the branches and it took the rest of her concentration to keep the bread upright until she could stretch a hand out and snatch the handle.

A very short time after: Exodus & SWP Update On a main road in northwest Athoria @pratikar

The roads in and out of the Hallowed Oak were barricaded as if the disease from Mahalath’s vessel in Leeds would spread that far to the outer cities, and so the guards stopped anyone and everyone that passed through without question or even an inkling of respect. Unless Athorians dared to tread further into the dense Oak, attempt to find away around the main roads that lead them to the major cities then they were thoroughly examined. Young adults were stripped from their mother’s arms, husbands and wives left behind…And if they dared to hide others inside the cart or wagons, among the hay or food or animals, then the Knights slayed without mercy for defiance against the crown.

It was, for lack of better words, disturbing…even to a creature of Purgatory. To know that the rumors had been true left a salty taste inside of the ancient creatures mouth. 

Grimm found it difficult to decide what to do, where to go. After Mahalath had quite literally been erased from this earth right before his eyes, the phantom simply fled east to escape the sickness. He left everything behind in that damned city of sin…his home, his faith in Baazlebub, his purpose.

“It’s about temporary survival now, you understand that, right? This will pass, we will move on. We must only wait,”

For a day Grimm had sat hidden in a tree with a friendly companion nearest one of the checkpoints that Natalia’s Knights had set up…the road most traveled from Leeds heading north, where one could veer off northwest to Night Haven, the village of the dead, or east to Brailston, their blooming capital. He watched them prowl the roads and nearby forestry searching for smugglers and outcasts, ones that had made it out of Leeds alive. They drank and sang around a fire eating roasted pig legs and spoke of obscenities regarding the next woman that came through and what they’d do to her. Grimm never cared much for the royal guard or those that demeaned for no good reason. But he watched and observed so he could get what he wanted. He waited for an opportunity to take a little revenge.

Besides, he was hungry…and quite chilly in middle of an Athorian winter. They needed warmth and food, shelter. And it was important to always survive.

He turned to Usai with a boyish smile that contradicted the atmosphere of Athoria and the conversation that they had been ease dropping on. 

… and she didn’t. Though she was now perched in a tree next to Grimm. The young phantom shivered as she wrapped her arms a little tighter around her body and resisted the urge to let out a sigh. There was too much at stake, too much riding on her learning the ‘proper way to be a phantom’. If that meant rolling her eyes at lewd comments and ignoring the faint gurgling of her empty stomach… so be it.

“We’re immortal, we’ve only to wait this out and then something else,” she stated, lowering her voice to interrupt her own sentence then. “Hopefully a less bothersome something else.” She huffed softly. “Will take over and start the process all over again.” As it stood, something needed to be done about the Queen of Athoria.

Pressing his back to the corner of a split in the road he contemplated where to wait so he could see properly. There was a urge to materialize on the vessel he assumed the man was still hiding in. He contained a mask in his bag to shroud his identity– not wanting to soil his reputations and also not interested in killing the man.

“Hrm–” he gnawed on his lip, the runes along his wrists that trailed in black ink up his forearms illuminated a faint red. With a snap of his fingers a hooked dagger materialized in his hand. It’s black onyx, and demon carved blade shimmering in red and purple light before it settled eerily into the metal as if it had just consumed a soul. Orion’s fingers grasped the object tightly, connecting his magic to the conjured item before he moved into the light. Shaking his large sleeves to hide the weapon from immediate sight, he moved towards the docks slowly, and carefully.

Usai’s impulsive decision to follow the dark figure was proving more and more difficult. He’d disappear from her vision and reappear several feet down the road. If she didn’t have extraordinary speed, she most certainly would not have been able to keep up… which, in truth, only made her all the more curious. Sure, she didn’t know Orion all too well, but they’d become friends. Well, as much friends as you can be when you don’t get to see each other much. But now her impression of him was skewed. How much did she really know, and how much was hidden beneath his cloak?

Usai brought herself as close as she would dare, preparing to shift into Limbo would that become necessary, before making herself known. “Lurking in the shadows… tsk, tsk,” she gently teased, deepening her voice so that maybe it wouldn’t be instantly recognizable. “Someone might get the idea that you’re… up to something.”

“Yes, Norwich is not too bad a trip,” she replied. “Though long enough if you and your travel companion aren’t, um…interested in the same things. But you and him must travel together often, yes? I should hope you have at least some things in common…”

This is normally when Miss Vivienne would tell her she was being too presumptuous and pinch her arm. But Miss Vivienne wasn’t there to stop Gracelyn from being too forward with veritable strangers. She knew all too well the strained relationships that some had with their families, and Gracelyn did not envy them one bit. But traveling together, seeing the world together, surely had to bring the two of them together just a bit, didn’t it?

Casting her gaze over to the serious looking man across from them, she wondered if she wasn’t being too hopeful.

The snort that the other woman let out took Gracelyn somewhat by surprise. Usai seemed a very poised and refined sort of lady, so she hadn’t expected such a sound to come from her. But Gracelyn smiled all the while, a hint of a blush passing her cheeks when she found her assumptions about Usai’s father had been wrong. Well, she supposed she couldn’t be right all the time, though she tried. Though when Usai informed her that her father was a supplier, Gracelyn’s eyes lit up.

“Oh! He must be the one responsible for these beautiful silks then,” Gracelyn said, quickly rushing to the other side of the room to extract a large bolt of silk brocade from a storage closet. “I’ve not gotten to work with this yet,” she said, running a finger carefully over the material. “But it’s so beautiful! I can’t wait to see it on a finished piece. Has your family been in the trade long? Do you sell other things aside from fabrics?”

It was true, Usai travelled often enough with her father on his trips that they could talk amicably about this and that. But their worlds, no matter how closely aligned, were still different. He was a product of his homeland, a traditional man. While she was born in the same country, the one that seemed to grow farther away with each passing year, she had come of age in England. It was a different culture. None of this made it out of her mouth, of course. This wasn’t the place to lament and she wasn’t familiar with the apprentice.

Though, it seemed, something she had said sparked an excitement in the other woman. Ah yes, her father’s silks. If Usai were being completely honest… she rarely wore anything but. Indian silk agreed with her skin while the fabrics her family could afford in this country did not. Or perhaps it wasn’t so much that… as personal preference. She was spoiled, and she wouldn’t want it any other way.

“It’s a family business,” she answered. “Every time I ask him how long it’s been running, he gives me a different answer. I’ve since learned that I don’t care enough for the answer. Though…” It was likely she was the one who would inherit her father’s business, despite him not entirely being content with the idea. Her three elder brothers were members of city guard and her youngest talked often of following in their footsteps. If her father’s silk business was meant to survive…

“No, we don’t sell other things. We sell one, and we do it very well.” Usai moved closer to Gracelyn and lifted a hand to delicately run her fingertips along the grain of the silk. “I dare say… I could probably tell you where this bolt came from and exactly what was used to dye it.” She let out a small laugh. She’d only visited the cities of India once since the move to England, but she heard so much about them…

He appeared behind her next, his mouth close to her ear. “Your greatest enemies will be those unseen,”

And then moved again, this time at a spot down the road, and he flickered purposefully his full body against the beautiful light from a blossoming moon above. Yet he did not remain, and Grimm shifted again and again to various places encompassing the young phantom, proving without words that she was, indeed, surrounded by his will and not hers. He tapped her shoulder and appeared overhead, then ruffled the tips of her hair and appeared sitting on a nearby rock with his legs crossed nonchalantly. It was this small exposure of power and unpredictability that could easily show weaker and untrained phantoms the extent of his mobility and the affect of his presence in general.

It was important for them to realize early on that he was stronger, that he was the Teacher, and that if they wanted to walk like him and talk like him then they needed to succumb to his abilities entirely.

Of course, Grimm did not do those things to appear full of himself. Teaching the ways of the phantom was his passion, but one could only appreciate that when they realized how utterly weak they were compared to him.

“You should care about those you abandon, little one, and I shall tell you why,” Grimm’s voice resonated, appearing to be in several places at once as he shifted to and from his locations. “Unclaimed souls that skip the reapers touch may stay here, uncrossed. Such a sad thing, really…those pathetic little ghosts…unable to accept the first circle of Hell, unable to accept heaven or the flaming pits…and here they stay, forever bound to this human world,”

He stopped now, a normal distance from her and allowed the particles of his own ghostly body to flicker and pixilate to reflect that of a maddening sight. The air around them swirled into gusts of wind, rocks and pebbles from the dirt road lifted and spun rapidly around the pair, collecting dust whatever else was remaining on the main road to the cities. Grimm’s eyes were manic and wide, flashing hues of red at the younger phantom standing before him. “They turn into poltergeists, and they always haunt those that have defied them,”

And then, within the blink of an eye, all was silent and calm. The pebbles dropped to the ground, the air became restful and all that was left was Grimm’s wild, blackened hair and his tall stature standing like a soldier in front of Usai.

“You don’t want that, do you?”

If she were being truthful, Usai only half expected to see the other reveal themselves. It was understandable for them not to show themselves during the march through Brailston, but here? In the middle of the night on an all but deserted road? What reason would they have to hide other th— A sharp inhale was followed swiftly by the jerking back of her head. Had she— Did she— Was that what it looked to be? Eyebrows pushed together as she tried to see the face again, but it wasn’t there. Of course not. She was nothing more than a toy to alleviate boredom, at least … that’s what it was starting to feel like.

The irony in his words was not lost on the phantom and she suddenly didn’t need any more of a hint to be on her guard with this… creature as well. He was not as she hoped those many months ago. Her savior, come to help her once more. He was a trickster. Clearly not human, but were they two of the same? Each time he shifted, her eyes found him. She could feel the erratic nature of her inner self boiling up to the surface but she shoved it down as deep as it would go. Control. She needed to maintain control. If she could do so through Brailston, she could certainly do so here.

“You will not shake my faith,” she stated, though her words were all but lost in the sudden commotion surrounding them. It was a struggle not to bring up an arm for protection, but the both of them did little more than twitch by her side. It was easy to see he was showing off. Proving to her just how much he could do… but why? What was his purpose?

It wasn’t often that Gracelyn was given the opportunity to speak the language of her Mother’s homeland to others. And though her Hindi was somewhat limited, it still excited her to converse with people in the language. It seemed that the young lady who accompanied the gentleman though – his daughter, perhaps – was much more familiar with the local tongue. A small laugh passing her lips, she said, “Yes, even if it’s a short trip, traveling to London can be a bit of a feat. I hope you all have not ventured too far from home?”

Gracelyn was immediately curious about this beautiful young woman. It was clear they shared a common lineage, and it made her wonder just how her family had arrived in this country. Perhaps they, like her own mother, hadn’t been in the country for very long at all. Guessing from the man’s accent, that was probably the case. But Gracelyn would wait for the young woman to divulge these details on her own.

Not like that would stop her from drawing her own conclusions, of course.

The seamstress smiled privately when realizing that her initial assumption about the gentleman had been correct. Not that it had been a particularly difficult puzzle to figure out, but Gracelyn always took pride in being right.

“I should hope that Miss Vivienne will be finished within the next few minutes or so. She’s been back with that customer for nearly a quarter of an hour now. But I can go back and check with her if she delays you for too much longer.”

Another polite smile was bestowed upon the young woman, whose name she still did not know. If Miss Vivienne was going to take her sweet time in engaging her customers, Gracelyn didn’t see any harm in letting her natural curiosity rear its head. “I’m Gracelyn, by the way,” she said with a small curtsy. “Gracelyn Thorne. Miss Vivienne took me own as her apprentice about a month ago after I moved from Awre. Is your father a regular customer of hers?”

It wasn’t easy finding connections to your homeland when you were so far from it. It wasn’t hard to notice the olive tint to the apprentice’s skin, but for her to speak Hindi? Usai’s head tilted slightly to one side as her eyebrows formed a crease between them, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Of course, it had only been two words. Of course, she shouldn’t get excited.

“Not too far, no,” she said, switching easily from English to Hindi. Her accent changing in subtle ways as she did so. With the language of this country, she did her best to sound proper. With the language of her homeland, she sounded like she couldn’t have stepped off the boat more than a year ago. Her voice lowered now, just enough. She knew her father would be able to understand her perfectly. ( Not that he had much trouble understanding English, only speaking it. But he was stubborn. ) “We’re just down from Norwich. Usually not bad, though there are only so many conversations a teenage girl can have with her father.” Usai’s smile widened a little as she let out a quiet giggle.

Usai simply nodded at the information about Miss Vivienne, sensing their conversation was coming to a close. The apprentice before this one wasn’t… well… she hadn’t been very talkative. Not that she minded. Though there was only so much you could do when your conversation partner replied back only when necessary. Perhaps she had been instructed not to… “Hmm?” she hummed out, eyebrows lifted as she turned back to… Gracelyn. Oh, they were still speaking. Okay. She smiled at the other woman but not a moment later she was letting out a snort of laughter and shaking her head.

“When am I not ambushed when I get back into England?” Ali chuckled, shaking his head lightly. If it wasn’t friends, coven members, or his family– it was the fans in those large cities. “I won’t know now long it will take…if all goes well I will probably remain there a month at most. I don’t want to draw attention to my absence in London and Brailston more than anything. He looked back over at all the party guests. Not wanting to go back into the fray of noble people but knowing he would need too.

“November will be here before we know it,” he said quietly. Rubbing his thumb over her hand while he felt his shoulders slump even with the anchor in touch.

“Of course,” Verin slithered around the statue, standing as regal as ever against the haunting landscape of Winchester Graveyard. No longer hustling with life. Not filled with happy faces, and wagons full of tours. Though the woman was the most living object here now. And Verin felt strangely connected to her. As if they’d meet again– maybe in Hell. The dark thought offered her a proper bow, and with a click of his boots he made his way to his men. Dirtied in mud from digging up the grave they needed too.

Grimm hovered a few feet away, watching the crowd disperse, waiting for others to take their chances in harming the girl. But none of them did. He did notice the fear in their eyes as they scurried by her, and surely they were wondering why she was unharmed, and how she had survived. Grimm was not one to take credit, but he did smile smugly at himself as he remained unseen, proud that he had saved the life of another ghost, for now. Who she was, where she came from, and, most importantly, where she would go from here, were all questions that lingered vastly in Grimm’s mind. He wanted to open his mouth and scream them at her, demand answers in a manic and crazed way. But no, not today. Whether or not she believed him to be there, or if by chance she thought that she actually had used her powers to avoid death, would be interesting to watch.

There was no such thing as a humble phantom. But there was always an exception to the norm.

Past experiences had taught Grimm to dive head first into training. He thought about scooping her into the air and taking her away, to an empty field where the bones of old phantoms lay resting on the dirt, having failed the first and most important lesson of flight. Her powers had the potential to be at a peak from the adrenaline, the threat of death. Yet those were not the only emotions that could fuel the energy needed to perform; hopefulness and elation, though rare, also stemmed from the contribution of phantom abilities.

He could have watched her for hours, scrambling about Brailston trying to figure it out all…watching that light in those red irises glow into something more horrific and ghastly. But he did not. She was not ready. She had not yet given up on humanity…he could tell.

Pestilence stepped closer to the stranger, her dark eyes studying their target. Truth be told, she’d never seen a phantom so beautiful. Mahalath found herself wondering what sort of unfortunate death claimed the woman. If Lucifer found her fit to be his ghost, there must have been some sort of evil in her. “I must say I’m impressed. Colpa has never had another rider in the thousands of years we’ve been together.” Her eyes narrowed as jealousy nipped at her. “But why you.”

She should have known that no good deed went unpunished. As the other woman came out of hiding and into her path, Usai stopped abruptly. She was being called a thief now? Ridiculous! It was true, she’d never seen the horse before and she had… sort of… hopped on and started riding. But she’d never seen anything like it in her limbo before. How was she supposed to know the beast belonged to someone? Precisely, she wasn’t. “Yes, let me take her,” the phantom repeated. “Which means I am no thief and we have no business here.”

“Well, I know it’s difficult to imagine. But this is in another universe, another planet all together. Time is different there. I may be only gone here for two months, but I could be there for years,” he said carefully in warning to what he was actually under going. It wasn’t just a journey to selfishly seek more magic. It was a place to learn, train if possible and above all find something more awaken in him. Alivander was a magical child, and a small piece of him belonged in the Realm of the Seven Isles. They were his ancestors. The Fae apart of his entire family for the last five thousand years.

“I’ll be able to train for that amount of time within a world of magic. Earth can not provide such a landscape for me in that regard. Does that make sense?” he hoped he wasn’t sounding cryptic and confusing. He took her hand, selfishly resting his weight to her shoulder and wanting some comfort to his thoughts. He worried greatly about it all, but it was a journey that needed to be done.

“All species should have a safe place to learn the full extent of themselves. Could you imagine if everyone had to go on such a Pilgrimage? Would you? If phantoms came from another world and you could go there to learn– would you?”

Difficult to imagine, maybe. But Usai understood. Well, as far as she was able. She had only been a phantom now for a couple of years. She had learned so much about her world and the worlds beyond in that time. Granted, she would never know the full extent of any one specie… though she may grow old enough to at least get the hang of her own. “You make sense,” she assured him. She let him take her hand and then moved her other so she could wrap her fingers loosely around his wrist.

His next wondering left her almost speechless. Of everything she had come to know… if there were another world for her kind, it was not a safe place. It was Hell, or purgatory, or limbo. Neither of them were safe. Maybe for others, maybe for phantoms who were not herself. She couldn’t imagine every phantom having to endure…

“We do have another world, Ali,” she said softly, barely loud enough for her own ears to hear. “and everything about it is torture.” Lips pursed as she continued to stare straight ahead. Usai wasn’t one to share, not with anyone. She’d never told Ali what it was like in purgatory. What she faced each time she shifted into limbo. Even her death was shrouded in mystery. How could she possibly tell him that truth?

Gracelyn cursed silently as she stabbed the needle into her flesh once more. How many times had she done that in just the past hour? Perhaps enough times that it was impossible to count. But it wasn’t her fault that the tasks given to her were so horribly dull. She was an apprentice, yes, but hadn’t she proved herself worthy of more than these tedious tasks?

It was a little over a month since Gracelyn settled into her new occupation. She had more than most apprentices could ask for – a roof above her head, three hearty meals a day, and a companionable teacher who was not unnerved by her plain manner of speaking. But Gracelyn had always been a fast learner, on top of being unerringly dedicated. This often resulted in her becoming quite bored with things once she mastered them. And patching holes in ripped dresses was far beyond her growing expertise.

But still she sat quietly, fingers still gliding swiftly over her work, as she peered out the shop window to distract herself. The owner had stepped into the back with a customer some time ago, and propriety required at least one of them attend the front of the house should another customer drop in. Silently, Gracelyn wished that another of the lady’s loyal clientele would happen upon their doorstep. She had just about finished all of her work for the day, and anything to delay her would be most welcome.

As if the gods heard her unspoken prayer, a smile broke out across her face as the shop door flew open. “Welcome!” Gracelyn said brightly as she set her work aside. “‘Tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance this day. Miss Vivienne is busy with a client at present, but I’m happy to assist you with whatever you may need.”

Travelling to London wasn’t uncommon for Usai’s family. Her father often had business in the city and her eldest brother was a member of the king’s guard. Whether for pleasure or business, they visited often. Usai would get to come along and she filled many roles, whatever her father needed. Sometimes that meant being a pretty girl who smiled at the man making the deal, or often it was more about translation. On this particular day it was about neither. The Bhattacharya pair was down to see an old friend… well, sort of. Usai was coming along to look at the clothes.

Usai’s father smiled gently at the young apprentice as she stood, taking in her words and lifting a hand to wave dismissively. He would wait. Not… happily, of course. He wasn’t always the most patient of men. “Only Miss Vivienne,” he said with a thick Indian accent, moving himself toward a stack of fabric.

The demon kept her distance, waiting for her opportunity to get to Colpa. Her pale mare was just where she left it. That is until it decided to gallop off with any sort of command. At first, she thought the lone ghost had disappeared and fled on foot, but had they taken Colpa instead?

She doubted the horse was frightened into running off like mundane steeds. But it also wasn’t like her to take to another rider. Mahalath and Colpa were linked by their very souls; no one but her rode the beast without its permission.

Mahalath noted the direction her steed took off in and followed, clearing the wall in a dark blur. By the time she hit the forest, she practically flew through the brush, using both the wind and her demonic speed. In no time she had gained on them. A whisle zipped past her lips, commanding her horse to stop.

Usai had forgotten what it felt like to ride. Even in the twisted reality her limbo created, it was a feeling of freedom. Nothing could touch her. It was the first time she’d not felt the need to be afraid. It was good not to be afraid. But almost as soon as it had come, it was gone. The steed had slowed to a stop outside of the city, far enough that she could only just make out the lights in the distance. She had half a mind to urge the creature further, but it had been a gift… and she had no intention of abusing it. As she slid from its back she phased out of limbo seamlessly, her feet dropping onto solid ground.