#nirael writing

Anirus had been surprised to see the former, but after regaling woeful tales of betrayal and abandonment by her lusus and friends, they were glad she chose to return.

Nirael came and went as he pleased, somehow managing to find the ship when he so desired. He paid them well with each visit and caused little trouble apart from ruffling some feathers with his flippant demeanor.

This time, he seemed in low spirits, barely acting like his haughty self and spending more time away below deck in the cargo hold. Though, as per usual, he badgered Anirus for work or did whatever unattended jobs he could find.

With the calm seas came downtime, and most of the crew was loafing about, doing some odd tasks to occupy them.

One troll sat on the railing with a fishing rod. As far as Anirus had seen, he'd caught precisely nothing, which wasn't much of a surprise.

Anirus watched as something tugged hard on the rod. The crewmember pulled back, resituating himself for better stability on the railing… And then pulled up his line, baitless and fishless.

Anirus smiled faintly to themselves as the troll probably muttered a curse- They were across the ship, unable to hear- And went to re-bait his hook.

Then they caught a flash in the moonlight, on the other side of the ship. They glanced, but saw nothing.

And then with no further warning, the sea roiled around the ship. A massive scaled serpent breached the surface, long coils winding around the vessel and ensnaring it. Anirus narrowly avoided getting crushed by one such coil, watching in dismay as the beast tightened its grip and cracked the wood of the deck and hull.

"Attack! We're under attack!" Bellowed Anirus, turning their head to find one of the serpent's coils blocked their path to their quarters, where their weapons lay. The crew had already begun to move, dodging the serpent and fumbling for weapons with which to jab the beast with.

Anirus willed up their psionics, but knew that it would take far too long to summon up a bolt of lightning or anything strong enough to drive off the serpent. The sky was clear, and in these conditions it would take at least an hour to whip up a storm, even with all the water around them.

"Oh, I see." They heard a calm voice from below, and watched Nirael step out from the cargo hold. Nirael looked up to Anirus, and smiled. "Save your psionics, Captain, we'll need you in good sorts, won't we?"

With that, Nirael reached out and lay a hand on one of the serpent's coils blocking his path. Anirus wasn't quite sure what happened- Psionics of some sort that Nirael never mentioned, not that they knew fuchsias could even have psionics- But there was a flicker like lightning, and a massive chunk of the serpent exploded.

No, it didn't explode, not exactly- There was some gore, some viscera, but it was reduced to a fine mist.

The serpent shrieked and pulled away, too tangled in the ship to recoil and instead jerking the entire vessel along like a toy.

The beast lunged for Nirael, quickly pinpointing him as the cause of its distress- The other crew members barely seemed to have pierced its hide, thick and slick with algae.

Nirael deflected the blow with a single strike of his palm and then grabbed the beast's lower jaw, its teeth so large he barely had to mind where he put his hands.

He planted one foot on the serpent's jaw and kept the entire creature pinned with apparently no effort, Anirus watching as the massive creature writhed uselessly under Nirael's grip.

Nirael extended a hand. There was a pulse in the air, like a giant heartbeat of the universe itself. The beast froze. A second pulse, and then the serpent was unmade.

That was the best way Anirus could describe what happened. They watched as its skin split along its spine and disintegrated, followed rapidly by layers of tissue and muscle, and by the time the bones were reached by this wave of destruction, the beast was gone, rendered into mist. The mist drifted away on the wind and disappeared, and the ship rocked for a moment as it righted itself.

All was still and calm just as it had been minutes before. Nirael straightened and dusted off his palms. "Well, let me see if I can do something about those leaks."

"Oi!" Heil barked, darting forward. He snagged Nirael by the collar, and Anirus tried to comprehend why the violetblood looked so furious. "What the hell was that?!"

"Just some extreme measures," Nirael brushed Heil off, walking towards the railing. "We're taking on water, so that should take precedence here, no?"

"You- There's no way you're—"

Heil cut off as Nirael jumped overboard. Anirus realized they were gripping the railing tight enough that their knuckles showed white, and relaxed. "Heil, he saved us. I don't think we should look a gift horse in the mouth." Anirus said levelly, trying to process what just happened themselves.

"It's not that- He's- By the stars, there's no way it's him." Heil just stared at the spot Nirael vanished at, some mixture of horror and disbelief on his face.

"Heil?"

Anirus picked their way carefully down the broken steps to the main deck as Heil shook himself. "Nevermind. It's nothing, Captain."

Anirus patted his shoulder wearily. "Let's just focus on assessing the damage, and thank the heavens for our stroke of luck."

After a pause, the front door opens to reveal the tall bronzeblood, wearing a puzzled expression. “... Cataclysm? What on-”

Nirael lashed out to grab Astirn by the collar, yanking him nearly off his feet to bridge what short distance was between them. “I ought to hack your head off your shoulders now, but I’ll give you the chance to explain yourself.” He snarled, his eye tinted red with rage. His magic was depleted entirely, gone over the weeks of his travel- But he could still make someone suffer if he needed to.

“-Explain what!” Astirn huffed, regaining his footing. “You’re the one out here demanding my attention, what the hell did I do?” He could tell something was off, glancing at Nirael, but couldn’t determine what yet.

“My wife’s been ill. And my magic–” Nirael hissed, and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Did you think I’d be helpless without it? You’re the only troll who could slip past my defenses and do thi–” An involuntary shudder ran through Nirael’s body as his breath fled his lungs, his eyes widening. The sword slipped from his grasp and dropped into the sand. 

Then his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed, dead before he hit the ground. Astirn had moved to try and escape to make his next argument- apparently, unnecessary. 

Shocked by the suddenness of this all, Astirn catches his breath and then refocuses. Without much thought to it, he stoops down to lift Nirael’s torso from under his arms, dragging him inside of the hive.

But as he starts descending the stairs in the hallway, Astirn begins considering everything said. He had no idea why Nirael was so furious- or didn’t, until now, he guesses. It made sense- Nirael’s soul had disconnected entirely from his now-dead body, bound to the enchantment in his bones. A hidden spell only Astirn would be aware of with his abilities, apart from Nirael himself- and the conclusion that Astirn had been the one to do something to it was an obvious one. 

If incorrect.

Moving aside a small table, Astirn then lays Nirael down in the center of the room. Nothing appeared physically wrong, apart from fatigue- but that could be anything. What bothered him the most was the fact that Astirn couldn’t sense an ounce of the destructive energy Nirael usually had, wreathing him like smoke. It was as if he were entirely mundane. 

The thought of Cataclysm being mundane in any sense made him scoff as he continued to look Nirael over. Astirn could tell, finally, something else was present in the body. An unusual energy- not quite biological, but not fully magical either. It was certainly nothing arcane- and it was eating away at Nirael’s bones.

Astirn didn’t dare to meddle with it yet, not with the very little he knew. But he still needed to speak with the troll that had been coming for his throat. 

Setting himself down on the floor as well, Astirn exhales- closing his eyes and reaching out his hand to put on Nirael’s chest. With a moment of focus, Astirn guards himself and extends a part of his own soul to meet Nirael’s- envisioning a space to stand in.

In this place, Nirael’s spirit had already manifested, sitting in the darkness with one hand over his face. He watched Astirn through the gaps in his fingers, a wariness like a cornered animal in his eye.

“First off,” Astirn began. “I’d like to clarify that I just want to talk.” He shifted somewhat, still wary from earlier, himself.

“Do what you like, Soulsmith.” Nirael narrowed his eye, his anger smoldering into exhausted defeat. “Gods know, I can do nothing to stop you.”

“I’m not going to do anything, you’ve got enough going on already with whatever the hell’s… infected you.” Astirn sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I get where you’re coming from but this is not my doing. What even happened?”

“I don’t know. That it was somehow you was the only remotely logical conclusion I could come to.” Nirael’s hand slid from his face and dropped in his lap as he stared at some point on the ground in front of him. “...You said I was infected?”

Astirn nods. “The best word to describe it that I could think of. I’m not sure what exactly it is. Not like any normal disease, that’s for certain. Almost like… hm.”

Nirael sat frozen, his eye wide as Astirn speculated. “Tosiol- She fell ill after she drank my blood.” He leaned forward, planting a hand in front of him, defeat turning to desperation. “That was weeks ago! Get out of here- Please. Go to her.”

Nirael shifted to kneel, lowering his head to the ground. “Please! I know I have no right to ask after I threatened your life-”

“-Listen, for a moment here-” Taken aback, Astirn raises his hands in front of him. “... This is.. conjecture, but I have reason to believe she’ll be fine, with time. This.. disease, appears to have consumed your mana, but done nothing else as far I can tell. She’s no mage herself, is she?”

Nirael had raised his head. “No. Not in the least.” He straightened back into a kneel, deep worry still painting his face. 

“Then at worst, she’ll be hungry and out of it. But you? This energy is trying to eat away at your bones.”

Nirael set his jaw. “I’m aware.” He said warily, looking at his spectral hand. “I can feel it. I don’t expect I have much longer.”

Astirn sets his hands down, raising an eyebrow. “If nothing’s done about it. But I suspect something could.”

He then looks away, clearly thinking. “I need a second opinion- and set of hands, more than likely. My matesprit would know what to do.”

“...Before you go, then– I’m sorry. I have too many enemies to go making more out of my allies.” Nirael dipped his head again, in apology. “Anything you ask, it’s yours, if you can fix this.”

Astirn turns away to leave, giving Nirael a parting remark. 

She made her way to the main hall and entered silently, inadvertently masking her presence and hiding in the shadows cast by the pillars lining the large room.

She thought perhaps it might have been Kairos, and knew already that her matesprit was lounging on his throne in the main hall. She didn’t want to interrupt them, but did want to observe as the two had a tendency to bicker.

Tosiol found a thin, masked bronzeblood entertaining Nirael instead. Bold of the boy to traipse into a castle full of undead; He had an aura positively bursting with life energy.

She’d come in during introductions. Nirael seemed amused by this boy’s presence, likely at his audacity to just walk into the castle. 

It wasn’t as though anyone would have answered a knock at the door, except perhaps meek Ramira, who normally wasn’t within earshot anyway.

“...Cataclysm, or The Awakened, whichever you prefer. To whom do I have the pleasure?”

“Yumech Dibiki. Apologies for intruding. I’m just here to see Kairos.” The boy’s voice was weak, a rasping whisper that barely carried through the hall.

“Oh, they actually have friends, do they? Or, well, one, anyway.” Nirael drawled. Tosiol saw fit to step forward, catching the attention of both of them. She bowed politely to Yumech, a mild apology both for appearing suddenly and for her matesprit, while Nirael gestured at her. “Ah, this is my matesprit. Tosiol Hasiya, The Inspired.”

“It is kind of you to come so far for Kairos. However, I believe they left earlier this week.” Tosiol said as she straightened.

“Oh, they’re here.” A sharp edge of annoyance laced Nirael’s tone, breaking his blasé façade. “They’ve been here.”

“Have they?” Tosiol’s brow knit in confusion. “They’ve not been in their room for the past few nights.”

“Yeah, they’ve been in the catacombs. Actually- They’re probably dead by now.” Nirael waved a hand dismissively as he got to his feet. Tosiol stared at him, in abject shock at what he had just uttered.

Yumech seemed equally horrified. Nirael disregarded his shocked silence in favor of Tosiol’s, frowning as he meandered down the steps to her. 

“What? I’m just letting them do what they want, aaaand apparently what they want is to become one of the things down there. I’m kind of curious, actu–”

Nirael had reached Tosiol as he spoke, and she interrupted him with a slap to the face.

“I cannot believe you,” Tosiol hissed, her fury held back as she instead trembled with rage. Nirael stared at her, hand to his cheek, now fully aware that he had indeed fucked up. “We will speak more on this later. For now- Hold your tongue.”

“Got it, dearest,” Nirael chirped, his voice somewhat muted as he still pressed his hand to his cheek.

Tosiol stormed past them both. After a moment’s hesitation- Startled out of his indecision, Yumech followed.

“Let me help,” Yumech sped up to make pace with her, while Tosiol summoned her saber to her hand.

“You won’t be able to use your magic in the catacombs, boy.” Tosiol ran her hand along the blade, activating the runes; Ironically, spells of undead bane.

“I have psionics. I- I don’t know what’s down there, but- I’m sure there’s some way I can help them.”

“So be it. Prepare yourself; This place has driven better men to madness.”

The stairs leading down were not far; Cracked marble steps descending into unnatural darkness. With each step the air grew colder, thicker, then it began to feel as though it were writhing. An intense squirming sensation that filled the lungs and settled in the gut like a sickening knot.

A feeling of dread. Terrible things had happened here, were still happening here, and the souls that had been tormented and twisted for hundreds of sweeps screamed for them to either leave, or be taken into the horrible mass.

“Why did they come down here,” Tosiol breathed, mostly speaking to herself and venting her regret at this situation. If Kairos were in a state with some sense, they wouldn’t have stayed for any extended period of time. There was indeed every chance that they were dead- Or something worse.

Yumech did not respond. Tosiol gave an exhale to steady herself, as they drew deeper beneath the castle.

Finally, they reached the end of the stairs, though that was only the beginning of the catacombs. Tosiol lit a torch, and somewhere, something gave a regretful wail.

Yumech had already produced a sword, ready for whatever they faced- Or so Tosiol hoped. There was certainly a look of determination in his eyes, mingled as it was with fear and hope for Kairos.

Tosiol led him quickly, but carefully, honing her senses already attuned to the energies of life and unlife. There was something alive here, and that had to be Kairos. But their energy was muddled, and it was difficult to distinguish the source.

On top of that, she had to avoid coming across anything else here. A fight would only aggravate the amassed souls.

Tosiol slowed, hesitant as they rounded a corner- And found Kairos standing in the room beyond. They were facing the wall- Leaning against it, shoulders hunched and their posture haphazard. Kairos turned, and it was immediately apparent that they were not themselves.

Parts of their flesh had rotted, exposing muscle and bone. They were alive, still- But their soul was wounded, now festering and necrotic. They lurched an unsteady step forward- Their gaze locked on Yumech.

Tosiol felt a blaze of energy from Yumech- An involuntary, wavering burst, lasting half a second but a massive eruption nonetheless. Her head snapped around, gaze filled to the brim with concern and fear- Not here. If he lost himself here, there would be no stopping that reckoning.

The burst was brief, but in response, there came multiple ungodly shrieks from the other catacomb corridors. The oppressive, writhing sensation of the place intensified tenfold, enough to cause Tosiol’s muscles to momentarily freeze in a deep flinch. 

By the time she managed to land her gaze on Yumech, the outburst had long since passed, though fear still painted his face, at himself and for Kairos.

Kairos stumbled and staggered slowly towards them, jaws parted and fangs half-bared. Tosiol extended her saber in case they attempted to rush Yumech- But Yumech stepped forward of his own accord. 

He wrapped his arms tightly around Kairos’ middle. The fuchsia made some attempt as though to bite at Yumech’s shoulder, but sagged and went limp partway through the action. 

“We must go. Quickly,” hissed Tosiol as Yumech let Kairos go to instead grip their hand, their movements even more sluggish but now non-aggressive. 

She turned, and began to lead them out- Paying close attention to assure the two living trolls behind her remained close. Yumech paused to haul Kairos onto his shoulders, and Tosiol froze when she spotted something rushing down the hall behind them.

It had once been a troll, but no longer, its form twisted and sagging but still reminiscent of what it once was. A shadow dropped from the ceiling, and another jade bearing startling resemblance to Tosiol herself rendered the undead into pieces.

“Esalla!” Tosiol exclaimed. “You followed us, clever girl! Do not stay too close, now.”

Esalla barely made eye contact to confirm her ancestor’s order before she vanished again into the dark.

Tosiol forged onwards, their path now littered with dispatched undead, sliced apart by Esalla. Another being- This one writhing with all together too many limbs, rushed out of an entrance to the side and threw itself at Yumech. It clawed in vain, drawing blood, its mouth obscured by the mass of tangled limbs. 

Yumech’s own hands were occupied with holding Kairos. Tosiol darted forward and dispatched the undead, hacking through limbs until she reached the head.

She looked back to Yumech, who had a hand pressed to the scratch on his neck he’d received and a look of fear- No doubt worrying Tosiol would react to the scent of fresh blood, inundated with magic as it was.

Tosiol just grabbed his shoulder and pushed him onwards; The stairs leading out of the catacombs were near, and the undead were closing in. If they lingered, they might come across something truly terrible.

The final stretch was a single hallway, and the stairs leading up. Yumech hurried along it while Tosiol backed her way out, assuring nothing else could pass and reach Yumech while he climbed the stairs.

When she heard the catacomb door open, she turned and darted out after Yumech and Kairos. She slammed the door shut- Esalla could escape easily, if she hadn’t already.

Kairos seemed to regain some consciousness- And immediately began to struggle, clawing at themselves with pained gasps, and Yumech was forced to sink to his knees and set them down to prevent himself from losing balance.

Kairos writhed on the floor, curling in on themselves. They pressed a half-rotted hand to their face with the other clutched to their chest in desperation to ease their agony. Yumech pressed his own hand to the one on their chest, light- Controlled this time- Radiating out as he soothed their pain. 

Tosiol was hardly a mage herself- But it was clear he was doing everything he could for them.

Nirael was waiting nearby, and approached, mouth drawn in an unimpressed line. He grimaced and parted his lips to say something.

“Not a word,” snapped Tosiol. Nirael shut his mouth.

Yumech began to lift their hands away; This was no place to tend to Kairos, and Tosiol swooped in to scoop them up and ferry them to their room with Yumech in tow.

She spent the next hour assuring both of them were cared for- Yumech had a room near Kairos’ set up, though she had a feeling it would go unused. A very light meal and water was provided for Kairos- They hadn’t eaten in a week, the catacombs suppressing the starvation and dehydration that was sure to be settling on them now.

Not the results they wanted, per se. The eruptions of ice from their miscasting was growing less violent, but not for an increase in control; Their magic was waning, pulling away from them like a river moving off course.

And, one night, they lifted a hand to cast, attempted to draw magic into their limbs, only to come up with nothing. They could feel nothing within them. Not the slightest stir of energy.

Where was this in the sweeps they silently begged their magic to leave them?

Why now, why when they only just had the chance to devote themselves to their study?

It was a cruel joke. But wasn’t that the entirety of their life already.

--

“What do you mean, you can’t feel it?” Nirael stared, dumbfounded at Kairos, having just asked them to try casting again.

“I mean precisely that. I may as well be mundane. There’s nothing.” Kairos snapped.

“Well, I can feel it. Are you fucking with me?”

“No,” Kairos tried to keep the growl from their voice, quickly growing impatient. “It’s great that you can feel it, but I can’t.”

“You say that a lot.” Grumbled Nirael. “You could try--”

“I could try what. I’ve tried every fucking method either of us and then some can think of. I can’t cast.”

Nirael gave an impatient growl of his own, tilting his face up towards the sky in total exasperation. “Utterly useless, honestly! Just unbelievable.” Nirael turned away, beginning to pace. “You can’t cast, Ramira can’t wake his magic- Did someone curse me, and this is why you’re like this?”

“Yes, because this is about you.” Snarled Kairos.

“It is!” Nirael whirled around. “It reflects on me if you two are useless, after all I’ve done for our lineage-”

“You did that all for yourself, you war-mongering--”

Nirael lashed out, grabbing Kairos’ throat in one precise motion like a biting snake.

“Quit interrupting me.” Nirael growled. “I’m getting really tired of your fucking attitude. You just keep saying you can’t and I’m sick of it.”

“Kill me then,” growled Kairos, their voice strained by Nirael’s grip on their throat. “Get rid of me already and raise the next of your fucking line.”

“Tempting.” Hissed Nirael, and by his tone it sounded like he was genuinely considering it. “But even though both of us hate it, you really are something special. Our magic can’t be awoken under normal circumstances. It takes a violence that only you and I know. So quit fucking around, and take the reins on your fate already.”

Kairos bared their teeth, about to respond, and Nirael squeezed their throat tighter.

“And if you tell me you can’t one more fucking time, I will kill you.” 

Nirael let Kairos go with a harsh shove, knocking them back into the tree behind them.