13
Orias

The Storm was a phenomenon well known throughout Asheva, but one that the Trigala was relatively safe from. The raene warped in appearance when they came into contact with it, commonly manifesting in an affliction known as stormskin where eye-like welts formed across the surface of the skin. But what happened to raene that were consumed completed was where his research lied. It was unknown whether the person was truly dead when they were consumed by the Storm, but if they weren’t, he wanted to know if their condition could be reversed—if there was any feasible way to save them.

Maramagia has only ever had one Storm occurrence in the time he’s lived there. It was one of the rare occasions Orias was in town when a black silhouette washed up onto the docks. Its eyes were white, but vacant, unable to mimic life in the way he was familiar with. The townsfolk told him to keep back, but he needed to see, needed to know just what it was.

It died shortly after arriving on land, its body collapsing into a dark sludge and quickly absorbed into the ground. He never got the chance to speak with it despite knowing its voice would be an imitation of a stranger lost at sea.

It would likely be a long time before another ever washed up onto Maramagia’s shores. He doubted he’d be around to see it happen.

Knock knock knock.

He looked over his shoulder to find another guest at the entrance of the study, this time being Briar leaning against the archway.

“So…” Briar spoke, “did you tell him? About—” she gestured vaguely in front of her. “—y’know.”

He turned back to his book. “No, I didn’t”

“What— are you serious?”

“I don’t know what exactly you expect me to say,” Orias began. “Him learning that part of me would only make him distrust me.”

“He already doesn’t trust you,” Briar said.

And so what if he does? Vinnie would not remain in Maramagia for much longer, and Orias would only be a passing memory. He would not put that burden on him.

It’s better this way, he told himself.

Briar crossed her arms. “You’re hiding something.”

“And what, pray tell, could I possibly be hiding?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “With you, it could be anything. But I saw the way you two were acting. Something happened down by the bluff.”

“Nothing happened.” And he would keep it that way.

“You’re lying.”

“So what if I am?” Orias asked. “Will you do something about it, perhaps tell Vinnie about who I am? You had the opportunity to before, why not do it now?”

“Because it’d be better for him to hear it from your own damn mouth. After what happened at Janahad, I think he at least deserves the truth.”

Orias remained fixated on the book before him, the words on the pages muddled by his own thoughts on the matter.

“I can’t.”

He didn’t look back to Briar, but heard her move away from the archway and back towards the front door. Just barely, he could hear her say “Figures. I don’t know why I even bothered.” The door slammed behind her, and she was gone.

At the end of it all, Orias put his head in his hands, sighing deeply.

Nothing changes with you, does it?

~***~

If there was one skill Orias could thank for his survival, it was his ability to distract himself. It could be with anything, so long as it suppressed his thoughts. He finished his book, then went to prepare some herbs to turn into medicine, then picked up another book to read. Reading may have been a bit of a stretch. He was skimming it, the information not sticking.

He reorganized his equipment.

He watered the plants. There was not enough water in the can for all of them.

He reorganized again. He picked up another book.

He had yet to leave the study.

By the time evening arrived, Briar had returned to the house. She had poked her head in, likely telling him to take a break, but he had barely registered her presence.

The light outside faded, and soon the lights inside went dark as well. All except the study, where Orias had buried himself.

It was only when the night became early morning did he finally allow himself to emerge from his habitat. His thoughts were weakened, enough to allow himself to think again without wallowing in his own misery. He wandered out onto the porch.

Morning twilight brought with it quiet and cool winds from the strait. Normally, it brought him comfort in times like these, but knowing that a domain resided not too far from his home, the silence suffocated him.

Niv would be back, that much he was certain of. Once he had a goal in mind, he would stop at nothing to achieve it—it was just a matter of when. He needed Vinnie to leave Maramagia and go to anywhere else. Nicaea, Dearthain, it didn’t matter, so long as he didn’t stay within the Trigala. He didn’t like the option, but he figured it would be best to act hostile towards Vinnie to get him to leave sooner. Nothing violent, of course, just rude. Stand-offish. He likely already came off that way anyway, so it was just reinforcing it. Better to be remembered as the sad shut-in than anything worse.

The faint sound of a window opening could be heard from below him. Orias crouched down beside the worktable and looked through the gaps of the railing where he spotted a figure sporting a familiar looking poncho walking away from the house, looking around his surroundings before descending towards the shoreline. He did not seem to notice Orias watching him.

What’s he doing?

Perhaps Vinnie needed some air like he did, but him being out alone made Orias uneasy. He feared for the worst, so once Vinnie had gained enough distance from the house, he slipped into the shadows of the night and followed him.

Vinnie headed west, retracing his steps from the previous night. Beside him, the tide reached the shore in quick, rough bouts as the winds began to pick up. It seemed a storm would be arriving soon. He walked as far as the painted rock, then past it. Repeatedly, Vinnie leaned towards his shoulder and spoke under his breath. Orias was too far away to hear what he was saying, but it looked like he was having a conversation with himself.

Before long, they were once again in the courtyard of the domain. In the morning darkness, the domain was draped in a deep shadow caused by the cliff side. The proud structure of day now looked more like decrypted remains. This did not seem to deter Vinnie as he wasted no time entering.

He shouldn’t leave Vinnie to brave the domain by himself, and yet Orias remained rooted where he was. They say domains are just extensions of a deity, warping and twisting one’s perception until they were lost deep within its bowels. He got lucky the first time he entered, but there was nothing keeping this deity from finishing him the moment he stepped inside. It made it all the more imperative to keep following Vinnie.

With a deep breath, he approached the entrance. The doors were still open, and the domain did not appear to reject him. The domain had a foyer with much the same appearance as it did in Janahad, with a grand staircase in the center leading up to another area. He remembered the room being illuminated by strange, crystal lights before, but now the foyer was dark, with the only bit of light coming from the stained-glass window and the doorway. He was no stranger to navigating the darkness, but the darkness here felt strange, even foreign to him. Not the miasma he’s seen before just… fake.

It was likely Vinnie went to find the chapel, so that’s where He would start. If the layout was the same, then the chapel should be further along the second floor. He hoped so, anyway.

But after ascending the staircase, he saw how the corridor before him stretched on into eternity, it’s exit shrouded by the darkness. He walked on for a while, but the hall only looped, showing the same patterns of ivied walls he had already passed. He cursed himself for not following Vinnie sooner— surely the deity would not trap the Regis like it was doing to him.

I should turn back, Orias thought. Though by now, the entrance may not even be behind him anymore. Maybe this was how he’d meet his end—stumbling in the dark until the domain’s master grew bored of him.

Stop thinking like that. You have something more important to worry about.

If I can find my way back to the foyer, then maybe I can find Vinnie another way—

Turning around, he saw that he was no longer alone. They were partly of the darkness, their body indistinguishable save for their silhouette, and he gathered that they were roughly the same size as him. Their eyes split open, rippling slightly as if they had been liquid. Stark white sclera with large pupils stared back at him. He knew those eyes. He had been born with them.

They reached an arm out towards him, approaching him unsteadily until they were sprinting towards him. Turning sharply on his heels, he ran as fast as he could down the hall, not noticing how the walls around him began to distort and recede into the darkness. He could hear them catching up to him, but no longer as the sound of a man running. It was morphing, thick liquid filling up the hall as it flooded towards him.

A door could finally be seen at the end of the path, and Orias crashed into them, slamming them shut behind him. He felt a thud from the other side, then silence. Orias looked down at his feet and saw shadows leaking from under the door. He jumped away, but the shadows didn’t react. They did not seem to be alive anymore.

I hate this place.

At the very least, he found the end of the hall, and this room didn’t have any of the artificial darkness that slinked in the domain. He expected to find himself in the chapel, but instead saw that he was in a large empty theater with more statues than he could count. Some he could recognize, such as the four tall statues in the center of a stage that depicted the Patron Deities. They formed a semi-circle around another figure that was much smaller than the others. He assumed it was the Administrator, but he was too far away to really tell. Behind them was a backdrop that had flames painted on it, the shapes being accented by gold foil that gleamed with the stage lights coming from somewhere indistinguishable.

The rest of the statues in the room were of people, many of which were broken and crawling on the ground towards the stage. He had to step around several as he made his way across the room. There was a familiarity to the scene he was seeing, but he avoided addressing the thought.

The statue he thought was the Administrator was instead of the unknown deity they saw in Janahad— Atropos, if he recalled correctly. The statue’s eyes were open, staring straight through him. He thought they were following him at first, but the statue remained stationary. In her hand was a heart carved from obsidian; it seemed to beat on its own despite not moving at all.

He reached out to touch it.

It melted upon contact, an inky black substance latching onto him as it did. He tried to pull his hand out, but its hold was firm, burning him as it began to embedded himself into his skin.

Then he heard the scraping of stone as the statues of men and women crawled towards him. They clambered onto the stage, grabbing onto his legs and pulling him down to the floor.

Stop it.

They tore away at his fake flesh, the cold touch of stone burning once it met the shadows inside of him.

Stop it—

In front of him were the Patrons, watching him. Judging him. He felt them sneering, but was only met with the cold stare of the unknown deity before him.

STOP IT!