Curselock

Chapter 277: A Conversation

After his nap and long after the sun had set, Leland stepped out of the igloo-cave and spread his wings. He had explained to his friends what he was going to do, and after telling them he was doing it alone, one particular friend felt the need to ignore his desire for privacy.

“I really don’t need you here for this,” he muttered, knowing Isobel could hear him.

She was a dozen or so yards away, her dragonfly wings flighting to keep up with him speeding through the dark night. They headed in the direction of isolation which, since they were in a flat never-ending desert, was practically everywhere. In the end, Leland settled a little ways away from both the Tear and the bastion.

“Don’t care,” Isobel said once they landed.

“Fine, let’s get our conversation out of the way.”

She blinked. “Fine.”

Leland waited, teetering on his heels back and forth like a door with its hinges bolted to the ground. He felt the gesture somewhat mocking, particularly for the woman who preferred others to do what she wanted. Leland had no issue waiting around, in fact, he particularly liked this game of seeing how far he could lean over without falling on his face or back. The addition of wings made the game even more interesting, since he couldn’t actually fall – his balance magically augmented.

After Leland’s third back and forth, Isobel grunted, finally asking, “Explain how you killed those Witches.”

Leland sighed, planting his feet firmly in the sand. “As I’ve told you already, it’s a form of magic that the Lords use. It’s where their power comes from, the power that allows us to wield Legacies properly and without much training.”

“In the few weeks you abandoned us?” Leland interrupted, holding her glare. “That wasn’t cool, by the way.”

Isobel swallowed harshly, her fingernails curled firmly into her clinched palms. “I had stuff to take care of, I told you that.”

He broke their stare down. “I know. Everything with your family comes first. But, as much as you don’t want to hear it or don’t care to believe it, there are people who do care about you. Me included.” He chewed on what to say next, simply saying, “Just tell me next time, okay? If you need to disappear for a little while, at least trust me enough to let me know. I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to.”

Love, warmth, acceptance, such foreign concepts to Isobel. Her gut reaction was to snort and dismiss Leland’s words, sticking her nose high and proving to him – to herself – that she didn’t need pity or tenderness. She wanted to laugh, to cherish the crumbled niceties Leland attempted to throw her way. To see his face in that moment, that was what she used to live for…

But she didn’t do any of that. Instead, she looked away in a flinch, as if Leland’s words were a gust of sandy wind. She stood there, silent and on the periphery of self-loathing skepticism. Her family was dead, were there truly others to fill that mantle? Could they fill that mantle?

The obvious answer was “no.” Her family was hers, and no one could ever fill their shadows.

But what if these new people created their own shadows? What if these people stood beside her the next time she visited her daughter and husband? She glanced back to Leland, her eyes moving in a flash but soaking everything in. She looked for a smirk, a hidden grin that would prove her right and corrupt Leland’s honesty.

But she didn’t find anything.

“Fine,” she muttered, the word like a cannon.

Leland quirked an eyebrow. “Well okay then. Moving on. Floe is a Lord, and after she left, Gelo offhandedly mentioned Iceheart. From there—”

Isobel almost tuned him out, expecting a rib or a mocking joke. When she realized he was continuing their conversation instead, she almost retorted with a ribbing of her own. But again, she didn’t. That was old Isobel wanting to unbury herself. That was “the Huntress” looking for a target to fire an arrow at. That wasn’t her, not anymore.

“Walker taught me this breathing technique. The way he described it, anyone could learn it, but it requires being able to feel both lifeforce, and more importantly, mana. So, without a proper teacher, anyone but Gelo learning it, I think, would be difficult.”

“But where did that spell come from?” Isobel asked. “Because that was… something.”

“That was my Circle of Souls curse you’ve seen me cast a bunch of times. Only, it was powered by Ether.” Leland fiddled with his grimoire, opening it to his newest curse’s page. “Now I know you can’t read this—” He turned the tome toward her, the pages coming off as blank to her. “—but this page is new. It’s for Ether Circle of Souls. And these—” he flipped through the hundreds of blank pages, “—are all blank. My theory is that as I use ether on different spells, the pages will fill up.”

Isobel squinted at the pages. “Right, but how does—”

“Then there was the whole thing with some Lord writing in my grimoire. I’m going to have to figure that one out—”

She raised her hands, silencing him. “Walk that back for me?”

“After casting Ether Circle of Souls, the last page in my grimoire was filled with a note from a censored Lord. My Lord then wrote me a note which said to ignore him. See, I didn’t even know Lords could influence other Lord’s Legacies like that—”

“Stop.”

He did.

“What are you talking about right now? I’m not following.”

“Yeah, strange isn’t it, huh? In essence, a Lord congratulated me for casting an ether-spell in a very sarcastic way. Then I was told to ignore him by my Lord.”

Isobel’s lips formed a tight line. “Who else have you told this to?”

“Well, no one but you. I want to tell the guys and Gelo, but I think that is a conversation for outside the bastion. But since you insisted on coming along right now, you are the first to hear about it.”

“I don’t like this, Leland.”

“I know. But what can I do? Until I learn more about Lords, their Legacies, and the rules that they all play by, I doubt I’ll be thinking about it too much. I’ve learned to live with existential questions for a while now…” He blinked slowly. “Which, I suppose, isn’t a good thing, huh?”

Isobel wasn’t impressed. “Anyway. Continue your very detailed explanation of ether.”

“Right, so. It’s a mix of lifeforce and mana. I was successful in creating some, which I inadvertently used on Circle of Souls. And boom, big purple pillar of flames.”

“Uh huh. Forgetting that you did that accidentally, do you have any idea what that spell of yours means for us normal people?”

“I can finally beat you in a spar?”

Again, she wasn’t impressed.

Leland gave a hard shrug, saying, “I don’t know what you want from me. Yes, I get I did something largely impressive and massively over the top. Yes, I understand that no one, unless it’s a big shady secret, knows this magic besides the Lords. Yes, I understand what that means for me, a mortal. And finally, no, I do not really care about the general population. My magic is my own, and I’m only going to help people I trust achieve a similar level of power.”

“Uh huh. What about Seer?” Isobel asked.

“That… I’m not too sure. Lodestar—”

Leland stopped, feeling his shirt tug slightly. He turned and took a step back, finding Lodestar silhouetted against the distant moon – his white metal ring and chilling darkness both lighter and darker than the moon and night sky.

“Ah here we go,” Leland mused. “The parasite that killed Seer. Let’s ask him what happened. Maybe we won’t receive some cryptic answer or silence this time!”

Isobel glanced at Leland, his false excitement making her take a half-step away.

“I will speak,” Lodestar said, his voice creeping through the night air.

“Oh will you now? What a—”

“Leland,” Isobel scowled. “Please, get this over with. That thing creeps me out.”

He glared at the parasite. “I need to know why you didn’t help me kill Harbinger Ashford.”

“I did,” Lodestar voiced.

“You summoned some bug things then left me to die when things took a turn. You could have helped more.”

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“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I thought the battle to be futile. But you broke expectations. Appealing to that man’s humanity was a path I did not consider—”

“Shut up!” Leland screamed, the creeping air breaking apart, his tone pushing Lodestar’s aura away like a rabid dog. “I didn’t appeal to that monster! I clawed and pleaded, faking my way to a victory! While you watched! Why couldn’t you kill Ashford like you did Seer!”

Lodestar spun slowly, uncaring or unable to fight back the pressure his host exerted. “I did not kill Seer.”

“What a poor excuse—” Leland stopped himself. “What?”

“Seer is not dead.”

“Then where is he?”

“In Oblivion.” The dark portal at Lodestar’s center pulsed. For a brief moment, the ephemeral darkness slithered, stretching like a hand pushing up through a pond’s surface but failing to break the water’s surface tension. But then, the effect was gone, returning the darkness to a calm, endless, black.

“You sent Seer to Oblivion?” Leland asked, the question an echo of his inner thoughts.

“Indeed.”

“What does that mean?” Isobel asked in a similar way to Leland.

Lodestar did not respond.

“Answer her,” Leland commanded.

The parasite spoke quietly, “Oblivion is where souls go between death and life. But not only souls can go there. There are many ways to enter and far fewer ways to leave. While I did not kill Seer, his death is all but confirmed.”

“And why him and not Ashford?” Leland muttered. “Why not send all of the monsters to Oblivion.”

“Because Ashford did not meet the requirements for me to act.”

“What requirements?”

“The Pack of the Everbound.”

Leland wanted to punch something. “Like talking to a tree,” he seethed. “What is the Pact of the Everbound? No, scratch that question. What is the Everbound, Lodestar?”

“The Everbound is an ancient order founded by my brother and I. Back when we created it, its purpose was to protect the Curse of Knowledge – the rules that create our reality.”

“I remember the Lord of Souls mentioning this curse. He didn’t tell me much about it. Tell me more.”

Lodestar paused for a moment, eventually relenting. “Rules, as a concept not laws, make up the world. Life is born, life dies, life is reborn from nothing. The Curse of Knowledge is the idea that nothing matters.”

“Nihilistic, I love it,” Isobel said, devoid of emotion.

“Why does nothing matter? There is life. Life matters.”

Again, Lodestar paused, as if the words he wished to speak were both fleeting and as heavy as lead. “Yes. Such a paradox. Many within the Everbound Order have tried to rationalize our beliefs, but all have failed. But you are correct. The world does matter. Nothing is meaningless. But the end still comes. One day, even your soul will be in Oblivion resting.”

“Ah. A death cult, how great,” muttered Leland.

“No,” Lodestar growled. “The Everbound Order was a celebration! A collective of like minded, powerful thinkers bound to protect the natural order of reality! Everyday was a gift to us! Not a moment was ever wasted!”

“Right. So, you and the Lord of Souls made this doomsday cult—” Leland ignored Lodestar spinning slightly faster, “—and created rules that protected our reality. Great! So, what did Seer do that warranted you zapping him into Oblivion?”

“He trampled the natural order—”

“Lodestar please. ‘Natural order’ this, ‘natural order’ that. Speak clearly or go back to being a silently, brooding, immortal weapon.”

Again, Lodestar’s spinning sped up. “Seer wished to use souls in a way that would break reality.”

“Like Soul Fire?”

“No. Nothing of the sort. What Seer planned to do… I don’t know how he has the knowledge to even think about a plan of this scope. Someone fed him information. Someone the Everbound Order needs to silence.”

Leland raised an eyebrow. “Information about what?”

“Information that would open Oblivion and let its contents spill out.”

“Sounds messy?”

Lodestar froze. “’Messy?’” he asked. “Leland, you careless fool. First with allowing the Archon to escape, now your careless ignorance about the end of the world.”

“Doomsday cult,” Isobel whispered.

Leland sighed. “What about me helping Sapphire return home was bad? The Lord of the Void literally told me to do it, not to mention my Lord practically saying the same thing.”

The parasite ignored the jab. “In its prime, the Order would never have allowed the Archon to leave no matter how torturous it was for the Archons trapped here. Our world should never have been connected to the other worlds.”

“And why is that?”

“Because our mess will spill over to theirs, and theirs to ours. Three worlds were attached to ours, one of which is as desolate as one could fathomably ask. But the other two are lived in and thriving. One is at war, yes, but that hardly matters, not with the Curse of Knowledge—”

“You lost me.”

“Me too.”

Agonizingly, Lodestar said, “The Pact of the Everbound states that we have a duty to put an end to all who try to break-open Oblivion. The creatures that reside in that accused place would crush this whole world like you stepping on a beetle. And now, since our world is connected to others, there will be more threats to Oblivion. Threats that now have a road leading directly into ours.”

“So, in essence,” Leland announced, “our world is in danger, as well as the other worlds. Someone is handing out forbidden knowledge to people, trying to get them to destroy everything. My question is why and who?”

“The why is simple: to spread chaos and start a new existence. One where the survivors become leaders.” Lodestar began to spin again. “Just like—”

Leland didn’t need the parasite to finish. In fact, he did it for him, “Just like the Calamity.”

He subtly glanced at his Legacy tattoo, finding it as stationary as mundane ink was supposed to. The Lord of Curses was listening, he knew, but the crow tattoo wasn’t reacting. No flapping wings, no pecks. Either she trusted him to know Lodestar was lying, or she wanted him to know the truth. Was the retooling of all of the Lords as she said? Or was there more to her murdering the Lords who wished mortals to be their playthings?

“The who isn’t the Lord of Curses, is it?”

The question had to be asked. It just had to. Leland had to know.

“No. No. If that was the case, then all would already be lost. No, the Lord of Curses is one of the few surviving original members of the Everbound Order.”

“That’s good to know. But who wishes to kill everything and stand on our ashes? The Lord of Undying?”

“That fool? No.” Lodestar hesitated once again. “I am not fully sure. But I suspect it is the same person who wrote you that message in your grimoire.”

Leland’s tone turned cold. “But my Lord told me to ignore him.”

“Yes. Ignore him well, Leland Silver. Ignore everything he might tell you. Only corruption awaits.”

“That’s rich coming from you.”

“Maybe so. Allow me to tell you a story, a story of an immortal and a mortal brother. Together they started an Order that protected reality, an Order that was desperately needed in their time. But once they defeated their enemies, their Order wasn’t as needed. So, the Order fractured. Most died, some became Lords, but all kept the Order in their hearts.”

Lodestar wasn’t spinning any longer. “Then one brother got sick. Can you guess which one? The immortal one goes to everyone he knows, trying to push back the ever persistent tide of death. But since the brother was the founder of the Order, he knew nothing could truly keep his brother alive, nothing other than transcending. But the sick brother was weak, far too powerless to become a Lord. It was futile, the immoral brother was cursed with so much knowledge that he was blinded trying to come up with a solution to an impossible question.

“The sick brother died not long after. But even after this death, the immortal brother worked tirelessly. He had knowledge over everything, domain over souls, power that rivaled death itself. So he brought back the dead brother, pulling his mangled, corrupted soul from Oblivion and stuffing it into whatever he had nearby. In this case, a garden scythe.

“But the dead brother’s soul had seen too much. It had experienced the end unlike any before it. When consciousness came back to him, the holes and wounds were smothered away. The immortal brother said everything was ‘fine’ and not to worry. The resurrected brother believed him… until the wounds made themselves known. But by then, the brothers had worked to bring back other deceased Everbound Order members.

What Lodestar said next came out as a whisper, “We gave them the choice. The choice to come back as a parasite, bound to a host to carry out their vows. Some chose to accept this unbelievable offer, reveling in new found ‘life.’ Some chose not to, accepting in their previous death.

“I did not have that choice. My brother did not allow me to die – not that I wanted to, mind you. But after centuries, not having a choice was all I could think about. What little time I spent in Oblivion had changed me, changed all of us. We held onto ideas, our minds unable to shake negative thoughts. My brother called it the Curse of Death, and focused all of his attention on fixing the issue. He succeeded, actually, and found a way to truly resurrect someone to an actual body – not a weapon or tool.”

Lodestar’s voice turned bitter. “And that was it. My mind couldn’t handle it. The idea that I was incomplete. That I wasn’t given a choice in my broken resurrection. That my newfound immortal life would be a battle between host and parasite. That only one of us could live. That I would have to constantly kill my friends to live. I, like many, many, others fell to the corruption, turning ‘evil.’”

“And what?” Leland asked. “You’re not evil now?”

“I— I don’t know. It’s like a cloud is filtering my thoughts. I want to hate you, I want to squeeze your neck until you turn purple. I want to live by killing you… But I also know I shouldn’t. Maybe it was all of that time locked away that gave my mind time to heal itself somewhat. But ever since we became partners, my sanity has come back.”

“Then why didn’t you help with Ashford.”

“Because I thought it was futile. You were dead, I was going to be locked away again. Then you won. Since then, I’ve found myself thinking more clearly. Then the Mending Flame Lord slapped me. Then I saw what a parasite who has truly lost itself becomes. And then, this conversation. I have spoken more in these last few minutes than I have in nearly a millennium. My mind has been properly active for… since I was resurrected, I think.”

“So what?” Leland asked. “Now you want to be friends. That you are ‘sorry,’ that you will help with my survival from now on? That when the time comes, you’ll roll over and allow me to kill you?”

“I— I don’t know.”

Leland scoffed. “Those might be the first true words you’ve ever said to me.”

“You don’t believe him?” Isobel asked in a whisper.

“You know?” he asked. “I don’t know either. For the first time since I found out I’m a Harbinger, I’m questioning why me. Why was Lodestar given to me? Why put me through this misery? Why put him through this?” He looked to the sky, shouting, “Lord of Curses, if you can hear me, why?”

A pain shot through the back of Leland’s hand. The crow tattoo had pecked him, drawing blood.

“Right. Guess she can’t really answer.” He shook his head. “What do you want from me, Lodestar? Why tell me all of this?”

“Because,” Lodestar lamented, “I am scared.”

Leland blinked a few times. How was he supposed to respond to that? An immortal piece of circular metal telling him that he was scared? An immortal piece of circular metal that at one point lived in a reality beyond death and life and watching whatever horrors belonged there is scared?

Swallowing, Leland asked the only question he could think of, “Which Lord wrote in my grimoire?”

“I suspect it was the Lord of Oblivion, otherwise known as the First Lord.”

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