718 Zi'da 6...
The last changling.
Under normal circumstances, Mathias would have ignored the Theocratum’s call for aid; after all, they were not short on those willing to assist, to gain favour in the eyes of the Church. After his last excursion into the wilds, however, he’d found that his circumstances had taken a turn for the worse.
He could no longer bleed.
It was understood by those who cared to understand mages were curiosities – true curiosities that toed the line between the strange and the monstrous. Their bodies shifted and changed and became more than their mortal shells, more than what they were on their own, an expression of their relationship to the strange, hungry shards of power they had willingly accepted into their souls. Some were more apparent than others: the replacement of skin with stone, hair of flame, swirling eyes of nebulous depth, or blood that burned as hot as white flames. Others were far more subtle: a loss of feeling, an acute awareness of ether in the air, a craving for bloody flesh, or a shift in the way derived nutrients from one’s surroundings.
In the city of Quacia, the heart of the Scarlet Belief, where all peoples, noble and heap alike, were expected to bleed for the god who had bled for them, Mathias had discovered there was nothing beneath his skin but midnight-black glass.
It posed a problem with the Church; thus far he had managed to avoid any repercussions, along with the past two communions. He was pushing the limit of the Theocratum’s patience, and, while he and Graciana had determined his blood was truly gone – along with several other discoveries about his changed body –, there were other ways to buy the Theocratum’s favour without spilling his now non-existent blood.
Spill the blood of others.
Or, in this instance, the sap.
He had had no luck locating the creature – though he, the relevant Tribunals, and those others who sought bought laud and absolution from the Theocratum had stumbled into all manner of traps scattered throughout the city. Their locations seemed random – hardly a trail to follow that might lead one to the thing that had laid them, though this was, most certainly, due to the high chance that not all of the pitfalls and snares and hidden, poisoned needles were crafted by the one they sought after.
Quacians were quite fond of playing games, after all.
It had been five trials since the announcement had first been given, and Mathias – along with several others – had managed to narrow down the creature’s location to somewhere within the southern half of Shanty. The traps were far more concentrated and far more deadly. He’d already seen several familiar faces, eyes clouded and skin pale and empty, as he’d made his way through the maze of streets and decrepit buildings that morning.
The changling seemed to possess an impressively competent intellect. It continued to evade the patrols of Tribunals and common citizens alike, all while managing to construct crude but effective counter-measures. Some said they’d spotted it, but the descriptions were all different and far too scattered to make any meaningful sense of. Collectively, those who sought after the changling had already killed several innocents, their blood red as the bloodlights that glowed within the windows of the various homes who could afford them.
Sunlight had since faded to a soft gold; evening had already settled over the sky, bells still before the mass exodus of the farmers of Plenty would fill the streets with their weary shambling. There had been no news of sightings from what he’d been able to discern of passing, mumbled conversations here and there.
He leaned against a fallen pillar that had, at one point, been a part of some grand structure that had been reduced to nothing but rubble cannibalized into several squat, crumbling homes that lacked even the gentle glow of a single bloodlight. Most of the trial had been spent scouring the eastern half of the district, to no avail. Now, he stared down the winding alley, bright eyes searching for something – anything, really – that would help to yield the results he found himself in need of.
“Mathias?” The voice was familiar – friendly even – and came from behind him. “Is that you?”
Turning, curiosity flickering in his otherwise blank stare, he immediately recognized the brown-eyed Tribunal. “Carmo?”
The olive-skinned man flashed a pleased grin as he picked his way over the loose stones that littered the broken cobbles of the street, “I thought that might be you.”
Mathias pushed himself off of the pillar and bowed respectfully, garnering a light chuckle from the other man. “Then you have been sent to find this changling as well?”
His smile faded as he nodded, “The entirety of the Church is searching for this creature.” With some chagrin, he added a quiet, “Without luck, it would seem.”
The Catechist seemed as weary as he had been on the day they’d met – perhaps even more so. Emulating the man’s own fatigue, Mathias let his shoulders slump just slightly and measured out a steady sigh through his nose. “So it is the same with you then.”
Carmo nodded, mahogany curls shifting and catching the fading light in a way that made them seem almost as golden as the light itself. “I am afraid so.” His turn to sigh, it was far more full-bodied and genuine – true exhaustion. Mussing his locks with a heavy, scarred hand, he drew another breath before he spoke again. “To think a creature born of the creep would give us trouble such as this. I expected a fight, not a…” He let his hand fall back to his side, quietly slapping against the thick fabric of his sleeveless robes. “Whatever this is.”
Mathias offered a shallow series of understanding nods. “I do not even know what face it has chosen to wear.”
“A woman,” Carmo stated, staring down the alley much the same as Mathias had done earlier. “Dark hair, pale skin, and about… your height, I think.”
“You know this for certain?” Though assistance freely offered was welcome indeed, he wasn’t one to accept it blindly.
“I do,” Carmo nodded, meeting Mathias’ bright eyes with a steady, resolute stare. “I have seen it twice already.”
“Twice?” Mathias pushed a mix of surprise and scepticism into his voice – not enough to rile the other man, but enough that Carmo nodded his head, eyes earnest.
“Yes, twice. And both times I could not even draw close enough before it escaped.”
“It… ran?” It wasn’t necessarily surprising to hear, though it did seem to run counter to how the ferahoms operated. It wasn’t unexpected that there would be differences, but a complete switch from unbidden aggression to flat out cowardice was at the very least concerning. It was intelligent, elusive, and sought only escape.
The Theocratum’s desire to see the creature destroyed before it reconvened the with the creep suggested the knowledge it carried was valuable enough to divert any and all resources into seeing it never reached its intended destination. And now, it seemed far more understandable why even their full force had yet to provide any tangible results.
“I do not understand it,” Carmo continued, nodding that yes indeed it ran, “And I have no way of catching it.”
“Until now,” Mathias corrected, raising a brow. “If you can find it again, I can subdue it.”
Incredulous, Carmo stifled a scoff behind the back of his hand. “You-“ He shook his head, “Please excuse me.” Clearing his throat, he tried once more. “You believe you can… catch it?”
Unfazed by Carmo’s lack of faith, Mathias nodded, a polite smile on his lips. “With your assistance, of course, Catechist.”
The other man seemed to consider – seriously consider – Mathias’ casual proposal for a few moments as his dark eyes gauged the smaller, hardly intimidating figure before him. “Well,” he started, a smile playing at the edges of his mouth, “I cannot say I would not enjoy the company, at the very least.”
“Then we hunt the creature together?” If it were indeed true Carmo had spotted the changling twice already, Mathias imagined he stood a much better chance of finding the thing with him than without. He extended a hand forward, filling the small space between them but reaching no further than that.
Carmo met him halfway, his grip warm and firm as his fingers wrapped around Mathias’. “Very well then, Mathias.” His hand lingered for a trill or two longer than was necessary, but when he did release Mathias’ hand, it seemed some vigour had returned to his cheeks. “Let us not waste any more time then.”
The sky had faded from gold to bronze, and there was little time left before the light would be all but gone. Together, they headed down the alleyway, both pairs of eyes, light and dark, set keenly on their surroundings. They moved quietly, as close to silent as either was able; the evening drifted into night, and the low glow of those scare few bloodlights became the only source of illumination in what was the realm of the dark.
And still, they searched.
The last changling.
Under normal circumstances, Mathias would have ignored the Theocratum’s call for aid; after all, they were not short on those willing to assist, to gain favour in the eyes of the Church. After his last excursion into the wilds, however, he’d found that his circumstances had taken a turn for the worse.
He could no longer bleed.
It was understood by those who cared to understand mages were curiosities – true curiosities that toed the line between the strange and the monstrous. Their bodies shifted and changed and became more than their mortal shells, more than what they were on their own, an expression of their relationship to the strange, hungry shards of power they had willingly accepted into their souls. Some were more apparent than others: the replacement of skin with stone, hair of flame, swirling eyes of nebulous depth, or blood that burned as hot as white flames. Others were far more subtle: a loss of feeling, an acute awareness of ether in the air, a craving for bloody flesh, or a shift in the way derived nutrients from one’s surroundings.
In the city of Quacia, the heart of the Scarlet Belief, where all peoples, noble and heap alike, were expected to bleed for the god who had bled for them, Mathias had discovered there was nothing beneath his skin but midnight-black glass.
It posed a problem with the Church; thus far he had managed to avoid any repercussions, along with the past two communions. He was pushing the limit of the Theocratum’s patience, and, while he and Graciana had determined his blood was truly gone – along with several other discoveries about his changed body –, there were other ways to buy the Theocratum’s favour without spilling his now non-existent blood.
Spill the blood of others.
Or, in this instance, the sap.
He had had no luck locating the creature – though he, the relevant Tribunals, and those others who sought bought laud and absolution from the Theocratum had stumbled into all manner of traps scattered throughout the city. Their locations seemed random – hardly a trail to follow that might lead one to the thing that had laid them, though this was, most certainly, due to the high chance that not all of the pitfalls and snares and hidden, poisoned needles were crafted by the one they sought after.
Quacians were quite fond of playing games, after all.
It had been five trials since the announcement had first been given, and Mathias – along with several others – had managed to narrow down the creature’s location to somewhere within the southern half of Shanty. The traps were far more concentrated and far more deadly. He’d already seen several familiar faces, eyes clouded and skin pale and empty, as he’d made his way through the maze of streets and decrepit buildings that morning.
The changling seemed to possess an impressively competent intellect. It continued to evade the patrols of Tribunals and common citizens alike, all while managing to construct crude but effective counter-measures. Some said they’d spotted it, but the descriptions were all different and far too scattered to make any meaningful sense of. Collectively, those who sought after the changling had already killed several innocents, their blood red as the bloodlights that glowed within the windows of the various homes who could afford them.
Sunlight had since faded to a soft gold; evening had already settled over the sky, bells still before the mass exodus of the farmers of Plenty would fill the streets with their weary shambling. There had been no news of sightings from what he’d been able to discern of passing, mumbled conversations here and there.
He leaned against a fallen pillar that had, at one point, been a part of some grand structure that had been reduced to nothing but rubble cannibalized into several squat, crumbling homes that lacked even the gentle glow of a single bloodlight. Most of the trial had been spent scouring the eastern half of the district, to no avail. Now, he stared down the winding alley, bright eyes searching for something – anything, really – that would help to yield the results he found himself in need of.
“Mathias?” The voice was familiar – friendly even – and came from behind him. “Is that you?”
Turning, curiosity flickering in his otherwise blank stare, he immediately recognized the brown-eyed Tribunal. “Carmo?”
The olive-skinned man flashed a pleased grin as he picked his way over the loose stones that littered the broken cobbles of the street, “I thought that might be you.”
Mathias pushed himself off of the pillar and bowed respectfully, garnering a light chuckle from the other man. “Then you have been sent to find this changling as well?”
His smile faded as he nodded, “The entirety of the Church is searching for this creature.” With some chagrin, he added a quiet, “Without luck, it would seem.”
The Catechist seemed as weary as he had been on the day they’d met – perhaps even more so. Emulating the man’s own fatigue, Mathias let his shoulders slump just slightly and measured out a steady sigh through his nose. “So it is the same with you then.”
Carmo nodded, mahogany curls shifting and catching the fading light in a way that made them seem almost as golden as the light itself. “I am afraid so.” His turn to sigh, it was far more full-bodied and genuine – true exhaustion. Mussing his locks with a heavy, scarred hand, he drew another breath before he spoke again. “To think a creature born of the creep would give us trouble such as this. I expected a fight, not a…” He let his hand fall back to his side, quietly slapping against the thick fabric of his sleeveless robes. “Whatever this is.”
Mathias offered a shallow series of understanding nods. “I do not even know what face it has chosen to wear.”
“A woman,” Carmo stated, staring down the alley much the same as Mathias had done earlier. “Dark hair, pale skin, and about… your height, I think.”
“You know this for certain?” Though assistance freely offered was welcome indeed, he wasn’t one to accept it blindly.
“I do,” Carmo nodded, meeting Mathias’ bright eyes with a steady, resolute stare. “I have seen it twice already.”
“Twice?” Mathias pushed a mix of surprise and scepticism into his voice – not enough to rile the other man, but enough that Carmo nodded his head, eyes earnest.
“Yes, twice. And both times I could not even draw close enough before it escaped.”
“It… ran?” It wasn’t necessarily surprising to hear, though it did seem to run counter to how the ferahoms operated. It wasn’t unexpected that there would be differences, but a complete switch from unbidden aggression to flat out cowardice was at the very least concerning. It was intelligent, elusive, and sought only escape.
The Theocratum’s desire to see the creature destroyed before it reconvened the with the creep suggested the knowledge it carried was valuable enough to divert any and all resources into seeing it never reached its intended destination. And now, it seemed far more understandable why even their full force had yet to provide any tangible results.
“I do not understand it,” Carmo continued, nodding that yes indeed it ran, “And I have no way of catching it.”
“Until now,” Mathias corrected, raising a brow. “If you can find it again, I can subdue it.”
Incredulous, Carmo stifled a scoff behind the back of his hand. “You-“ He shook his head, “Please excuse me.” Clearing his throat, he tried once more. “You believe you can… catch it?”
Unfazed by Carmo’s lack of faith, Mathias nodded, a polite smile on his lips. “With your assistance, of course, Catechist.”
The other man seemed to consider – seriously consider – Mathias’ casual proposal for a few moments as his dark eyes gauged the smaller, hardly intimidating figure before him. “Well,” he started, a smile playing at the edges of his mouth, “I cannot say I would not enjoy the company, at the very least.”
“Then we hunt the creature together?” If it were indeed true Carmo had spotted the changling twice already, Mathias imagined he stood a much better chance of finding the thing with him than without. He extended a hand forward, filling the small space between them but reaching no further than that.
Carmo met him halfway, his grip warm and firm as his fingers wrapped around Mathias’. “Very well then, Mathias.” His hand lingered for a trill or two longer than was necessary, but when he did release Mathias’ hand, it seemed some vigour had returned to his cheeks. “Let us not waste any more time then.”
The sky had faded from gold to bronze, and there was little time left before the light would be all but gone. Together, they headed down the alleyway, both pairs of eyes, light and dark, set keenly on their surroundings. They moved quietly, as close to silent as either was able; the evening drifted into night, and the low glow of those scare few bloodlights became the only source of illumination in what was the realm of the dark.
And still, they searched.
