Lady Blackmoon

DATE: IMMORTAL REIGN 1023 MONTH 4 DAY 9

While the sun sank behind the mountains, Ruxian’s popularity skyrocketed. What began as a small gaggle of children giggling at his contortionist antics soon snowballed into a dinner show for the entire village. Soon, his amplified hypnosis filled the air with gasps and laughter. For his final trick, Ruxian had a boy who was refusing to eat his vegetables lick the plate clean.

Thank you! Waving a pair of ethereal arms at his audience, Ruxian drifted towards Naya, who was skipping rocks by the lake. Skirt rolled up, Susie stood motionless in the cold water, her training garash in hand as the ripples lapped her knees. Having not tossed the stakes a single time, her bucket remained empty.

“Many boys offered her their fish,” said Naya, sending another rock skidding across the lake. “Said she was – pretty. She turned them all down.”

Somehow, Ruxian doubted Susie was being coy. She alright?

“My only concern is she faces trial before Mother Blackmoon,” replied Naya, shrugging. “I’m just here to drag her back to shore should she drown.”

Given how swiftly Susie caught up to him in Immortrium, Ruxian saw no reason to question her swimming skills. Could the Dracon homeland have quelled the fanatical flames in her heart? Even now, he could still hear the faint echoes of snipping scissors and the feral bloodlust that resided in her eyes. Looking at her now, Ruxian almost forgot this was the very woman who stripped him of his body.

“Don’t worry about her,” said Naya, pride creeping into her voice. “There are no Targonians who do not fear Mother Blackmoon.”

“You got that right,” remarked Dramien, sinking down beside Naya. “She’s still here. Perhaps you could offer her some tutelage?”

Naya shot Dramien an incredulous look. “You serious?” The girl laughed. “I’m beginning to think Vera took pity on your daft soul.”

Partitioning his body into a large head with two arms, Ruxian crossed the limbs and nodded in agreement. For increased immersion, he even flared smoke from his nostrils with a mighty harrumph. Being able to see his comical reflection on the calm water was encouraging. With a body like this, he was a one-man special effects team.

“Don't do that before Almerynd,” snapped Thogar, glaring at Ruxian. “Do not assume she’ll welcome you as our villagers did.” With that, he lifted a hand to cup his mouth. “Lass, come ashore and dry yourself. The sorority will not suffer your wet, muddy feet on their hallow floor.”

Susie returned to shore, dropped her garash, and stared into the distance. She ignored the night wind sticking cold needles into her legs and tossing her hair into her face. Not even her grumbling stomach got a stir from the nun.

“I can’t go back, I can’t go back,” she murmured with possessed fervour. “I can’t go back, I can’t go back...”

Two girls clad in black rowed a boat into the dock. Hopping onto the creaky jetty, their eyes swept over the Targonians and trained on Ruxian. The spectral showman, sensing their unease seeping into his body, formed a hand and waved at them. The unearthly display only stiffened them. Marching towards Naya, the raven pair pulled back their hoods, revealing faces that had seen no more than a dozen winters, and made a deep bow.

“Welcome home, Sister Naya,” the girls chorused. “We come to answer the call of the night light.”

Naya skipped the formalities and drew the girls into a suffocating embrace. “You girls been practising?” Naya beamed at the nodding girls. “I need to show Mother Blackmoon the Targonian lady and the Otherworlder. Can you ferry us across?”

The girls raced back to the rowboat and lifted their oars. “Come on!”

Susie slunk onto the vessel with a guarded expression, not bothering to wave Dramien goodbye as she slumped into a seat. She clung to her scissors – the very instrument of her agency – without realising she had pricked her palm. Ruxian hovered at Naya’s shoulders, who settled down next to the nun. Within moments, the two junior Blackmoons parted the water with deep, rigorous strokes that rivalled professional rowers, propelling the boat from the shore. Just watching their flexing biceps made Ruxian glad he had left his arms back in the Immortrium oubliette. He could hardly survive the humiliation if the preteen girls challenged him at arm wrestling.

The boat arrowed towards a crescent peak. The dark silhouette of the terrain looked as if a giant had poked a hole in the mountain, a sight that awed and cowed Ruxian in equal measure. As they drew closer to the outlandish landmark, the winds and waves picked up. While the Dracons chattered on unperturbed, Susie hugged herself, shivering at the cold gust.

“That’s the Blackmoon Peak,” said Naya, pointing to the falcate landscape. “Legend says that the last dragon, Mogra, despairing at the loss her kin, blasted away the mountain in hopes it would attract others to her side.” Naya then turned her finger downwards. “Drained of her strength, Mogra cratered here and passed. And that, is the tale of Mogravale.”

“What did Mogra feel in her final moments?” asked Susie, staring down at the lake with lifeless eyes. “Would I get my answer if I dive down there?”

Naya readied her garash. “I don’t know, but this lake is the sacred lifeblood of the Dracons and I command you not defile it with your rotting corpse.”

Ruxian sensed no joy as Susie cackled, her voice colder than the gale. “Worry not. I’ll give you the pleasure of killing me. You earned it when you captured me.”

Ruxian tore his vision from the mountain onto Susie. Susie? Looking back, HypnoPro only took off after he hypnotised a suicidal man and herded him to safety. Right now, the nun was beginning to look like the crazed office worker that blasted him into stardom.

“You should worry about yourself, Lord Ruxian,” replied Susie. “Or have you forgotten what I have done to you?”

I’m still angry, by the way. Ruxian made a frowning face that turned burning red. Doesn’t mean I want you dead. That’s psychotic.

“Your world must be very forgiving,” Susie murmured. “I envy you.”

The rowers wiped sweat from their brows as the boat drifted into a cove. Without moonlight, only stone tablets and flickering torches lit the stairs chiselled into the charred mountain face. Pavilions punctuated the ascent. There, horned women offered the pilgrims a pungent tea to wash down hard biscuits. To spare Naya’s animated explanations at every stop, Ruxian floated clear of the waypoints.

While he no longer suffered the pull of gravity, Ruxian felt a weight growing with each inch they climbed. Something immense and horrible awaited at the top. This must be the magic signature Naya spoke of. He wondered how he ever missed the pulses that sent tremours through his corporeal body.

“That’s Mother Blackmoon,” said Naya, peering upwards. “We’re close.”

“She’s just like His Highness,” whispered a trembling Susie. “How is this possible?”

Naya smiled. “You’re about to find out.”

Marble handrails adorned with dragon heads flanked the final flight of stairs. Hooded women, exposing only their long horns, formed a row on each side. As Naya marched down the centre with Susie, the women crossed their garash blades, striking two crisp clashes. A tentative Susie followed, kept her eyes on the ground. Shrinking himself into a fist-sized wisp, Ruxian floated above Naya’s head. His harmless front, however, invited even more hostile stares from the sorority.

“Mother Blackmoon,” announced Naya, banging the dragon-shaped door knockers against the towering steel gates. “I, Naya Blackmoon, have returned from Targonia. I bring an Otherworlder and a Targonian who require your audience.”

The gates parted with a protracted groan, like a giant beast yawning as it woke from a long stupor. With a swish, green flames burst into being, lending life to the countless lamps dangling on the walls and ceiling. Two statues of the horned Goddess meditated in the distant corners, their gaze intersecting upon a sandstone dais, or rather, the figure on it.

Just like Naya, this woman had a head of straight, fiery hair and twin scarlet horns. Eyes closed, she did not stir on her throne. Ruxian expanded his field of view to get a better look at the lady in black. There could be no doubt. This was the source of the psychic waves pulsing through his core.

Unlike the plainly garbed sisters of the Blackmoon Sorority, this woman covered herself in necklaces, earrings, and bracelets. The glittering pearls dangling above her cleavage tickled something in Ruxian he thought irretrievably lost. Though her dignified air suggested she was Naya’s senior, her ageless face made Ruxian question this assessment.

“What business does an apocryphal priestess have in my sanctum?”

Her cold, shrill melody filled the temple better than any surround sound system Ruxian had ever heard. Every note was a drawn blade forged from peerless mastery, as beguiling as it was sharp.

“Mother Blackmoon,” answered Naya, kneeling on one knee. “Her name is Susie. She has revealed a terrifying secret of Targonia to us that would result in her death should she return. I beseech you to provide her sanctuary.”

An uneasy silence ensued. The flame trembled, sending the shadows into a frenzied dance. Eyes still closed, the sorority’s matriarch pursed her lips.

“I sense great darkness in this one,” she said. “My child, is there more?”

“Ah, yes,” Naya conceded, scratching her head. “Susie here –”[NL1]

Susie stepped past Naya and laid down her scissors, somewhat surprised by the bloodstain. The matriarch screw up her nose, perhaps catching a whiff of the coppery scent. Horns glowing, she summoned the weapon to her with a single flick of her finger. Susie flinched, stumbling back into Naya as her blades levitated towards Mother Blackmoon.

The display etiolated Ruxian. His spectral vision allowed him to see the magic threads, shaped like writhing, black tentacles, spawn from her sleeves to carry the scissors to her. It was not at all the clean and efficient telekinesis described in popular fiction.

The lady traced the blades, her brows creasing ever deeper as her fingers devoured the details of this malevolent implement. After some fidgeting, she enlarged the weapon before restoring it to its original size.

“Almerynd Blackmoon,” yelled Susie as she marched towards the woman with trembling legs. “With that weapon, I have tortured, humiliated, and murdered your children.” Susie shook off Naya and continued forward. “Their misery was my pride and joy. I thought their cries and screams a blessing the Goddess bestowed me for my devout diligence. I am a sworn enemy of the Dracon. Slay me where I stand or rue the day when I sink my fangs into your throat.”

Almerynd spun the scissors and ignored Susie.

“Didn’t you hear me?” screeched Susie. “I need not your mercy. Kill me!”

Almerynd finally opened her odd eyes. Her left was an angry, bloodthirsty red while the right was an unfathomable ocean, vast and turbulent. She gave Susie a pitiless stare that rooted the nun. Then came a deluge of gory images that scrambled Ruxian’s world. For a moment, dismembered pieces of Susie filled his vision. When he finally shook off the nightmarish hallucinations, he found a broken Susie on the floor.

Face smeared in tears, jaw ajar and drooling, the catatonic nun kept her eyes on the ground, only breaking her paralysis with involuntary shudders. Almerynd, finally descending from her throne, cupped Susie’s chin and forced her head upwards.

“The soaring dragon hears not the squirming worm,” said Almerynd. “Besides, you don’t seem ready to die.”

21/08: [NL1]1585