Pull Me Out of Quicksand

The manor almost felt foreign when they got back. Elisa almost felt like a native again spending all of that time outside.

But the auburn walls and the squeaky-clean tiles were eternal reminders she will never be part of Highcliff in full.

She was actually bracing for the inevitable bad news to hit them.

Then, like clockwork…

“Lady Elisa, we need help with damaged relations with Midtown. A fight broke out between demon and human…”

You don’t need to tell us that…

“Master Kael! Master Kael! The Orcs are requesting your audience with…”

Expected, he was accosted every waking moment in this godsdamn manor.

“Elisa, you need to be more specific than “we will supply you with more magickstone” when we are at a magickstone deficit.”

Okay, that one was avoidable.

But all in all, less bad than what she thought would happen; one of those so-called ‘bombs’ going off in the manor, maybe.

On one hand, their recent efforts have legitimized the current Blac’hil administration as a legitimate and worthy rulership. On the other, people felt more emboldened than ever to speak up against the state. This was expected. 

Your friends and family shunning you out of the blue will make you the outgroup… so the only ingroup you have left was your fellow comrades-in-arms. Your comrades were family now. That was how Kael explained it to her, anyway.

Elisa hated how true that sounded now.

Then came the knock.

A servant, pale-faced and winded, appeared in the doorway. “Letter for Master Kael. Urgent seal.”

A pause.

“…and the Lady Elisa.”

Nodding now, Kael took it without a word, broke the wax with a practiced flick of the thumb.

He scanned it once. Then again.

His expression didn’t change—but Elisa noticed the way his grip on the paper stiffened slightly.

“What is it?” she asked.

He handed it to her silently.

Her eyes skimmed the script—and her mouth went dry.

“So the forest gods are against us after all. Thank the gods it’s not all of them.”

Kael sighed, slouching slightly in his chair. “Lords, I’d honestly prefer if every last forest god was against us. At least then it’d be straightforward. But no—now there are layers to this cake.”

Elisa shot him a look. “That’s what you take away from this? Actually, never mind. I’d rather not know what your plans would look like if it were that simple.”

The Count yawned a long, unceremonious, entirely unregal yawn.

“Hold that thought,” he muttered. “I think I hear my bed calling out to me.” He stood slowly, stretching like an overworked cat. “Mm-hmm. Oh, yeah. I’ll be there in a few seconds, darling.”

He leant down for a whisper. "She says she misses me. But she misses you even more. Especially the curvature of your well-formed body..."

“Just for that, I’m tempted not to follow.”

“What if I asked pretty please, in a sultry tone like this?”

She rolled her eyes, leaned forward, and kissed him anyway.

From the corner of the room, Maxxie, who had been waiting quietly for far too long, finally found the courage to speak.

“Wait—Master Kael, Lady Elisa—wait!”

Unfortunately, they seemed too preoccupied with the texture of each other’s arms and chest to notice as they walked away.

Maxxie groaned quietly. “Crumbs…”

\\

ELSEWHERE… HIDING UNDER THE COVER OF SHADES OF GREEN…

People were emboldened to say the least.

“My own flesh and blood, kicking me out for standing up for them!”

The same sad story everywhere. Some people even hugged each other; strangers, mind you!

“My sister said I was mad. But you tell me—what’s mad about wanting our land back?”

Daniel sat alone now, looking down from his ivory perch, eyes fixed on nothing in particular. The trees were surprisingly ample in space inside.

Talk of a “new Highcliff” had started floating around. Not just driving out the demonkin. Something bigger.

Daniel hadn’t pushed for that. Didn’t need a rebrand. Didn’t want one, either.

But it’d certainly be more powerful. More people could latch on such a powerful concept. If it got him what he wanted—more members, demonkin gone—then so be it.

If people wanted a new Highcliff, fine. Let them build it. As long as the old one burned down first.

He was the one who lit the torch. The last stubborn figure standing against the oppressors.

No matter what else they’d done—infrastructure, olive branches—it didn’t change what they were. The demons were still the ones who took first. They were still the ones who came uninvited.

The empire didn’t get to be absolved just because it was efficient.

And he didn’t need to be liked, either.

Just remembered.

Then everything, everything would have been worth it.

He tried not to think about how Pauline would’ve blocked some of this from happening. Filtered out the zealots, cooled the heads before they boiled over. Said something sharp to bring them back down.

But that wasn’t an option now.

And it wasn’t worth thinking about.

\\

Elisa didn’t say much while she got ready.

She tightened the straps on her boots, checked the dagger at her hip, checked it again. The sun hadn’t even cleared the mist yet. Her coat hung heavy over her shoulders.

Kael leaned against the doorframe, watching her in silence.

“It was kind of you to consider extracting blood into a container beforehand. But I’d rather not have to use it at all.”

Eventually, he stepped forward, reached into his pocket, and held something out.

A necklace. Simple enough—small pendant, faint magick etched into the underside.

“This’ll light up if you’re in trouble.”

She raised a brow, resisting a mighty urge to coo.

“That’s how little faith you have in me?”

“No,” he said. “That’s how little faith I have in the rebellion.”

“A bit rude to spring this onto me last minute regardless…”

“Knew you wouldn’t have taken it otherwise, stubborn as you are.”

“Got me in one, Count.”

She took it anyway, fastened it around her neck without another word.

This was a risk. They both knew that. Going alone, walking straight into the mess, no guards, no backup. But it was still better than the alternative.

Sending interlopers would’ve stirred more resentment. Would’ve made the rebellion look like victims again.

This way—it was just her. A conversation, not a threat.

Or so they hoped.

Kael watched her quietly as she tightened the last buckle.

“If you get yourself captured, I’ll come pull you out,” he said, flat.

“You won’t have to.”

He didn’t reply. But something told her that he will do so when it comes to it. Under no circumstances otherwise.

But when she passed him at the door, he reached out, just briefly, and brushed her shoulder.

She nodded. In no time at all, she was gone.

\\

Elisa wore a mask.

Lean enough now so she didn’t stand out in this silly disguise too—weeks of field rations, skipped meals, and stress had taken care of that. Just another body in the ranks. It was much harder to convince anyone she was a true Highcliffian otherwise.

Though, Kael protested and ensured she ate enough that she remained “auspicious” in his eyes. Creep.

The Obsidian Tide usually couldn’t track faces, only a pledge. She hoped that this tree was one that still recognised her even after all these years.

She stood in front of it—old, gnarled, almost hunched in on itself. Its roots pulsed faintly, like veins just beneath the surface.

She held her hand out, palm down. The tattoo—hidden just below the skin—glowed green. Just faintly.

The tree didn’t ask questions. It can’t afford to nowadays. Another disadvantage to expanding so rapidly.

A narrow tunnel opened between its roots, earthy and damp, and swallowed her whole.

She stepped in.

It was time.

Her boots hit the moss-slick path softly. The tunnel pulsed with a light that didn’t come from torches. Old magic. Forest magic.

Every step forward felt heavier than the last.

Hell of a thing revisiting someone you had mourned for ten odd years.

Dad.

ACT II END