» Hauntings & Healings

KAHLI I am being summoned. I don’t know by what, nor by whom, but the feeling rejuvenates me, refreshes my senses that have been shrouded by whispers and voices. The moment of clarity leaves me looking to the west. I move forward at a canter, wondering what fun (or bullshittery) awaits, and as I enter the Labyrinth, our long lost beautiful Green Labyrinth, I see it. The smoke that has curled and crept and hungered seems to be pulled into a central churning heart, and though it may be a trick of the light, or influenced by the whispers, it appears as though eyes and teeth materialize within the darkness, forming a haunting grimace. A smile plays across my lips as I stand, ready to wait and watch (battle has never much been my thing), but that serene calm stops when I hear his voice. It is a voice I haven’t heard in forever, but I had heard it and praised it enough times before to know. An excited laugh burst from my throat, and it is probably the happiest noise I’ve made in years. He is here. He is here.  He is home. I leap away from my watching place, tossing my head wildly as I run towards my god and his power. Ooh ooh ooh this is going to be good. Despite the way the air quivers with violence and vehemence and terror, I find myself dancing through the havoc. I try to approach where Reszo sounds like he is, though it sounds as though he is everywhere at once. I want to try to get as close as I can as he attempts to protect us. The rift has come alive again, and it was more than likely correlated with the arrival of the helovians. Yet, they had caused this in the first place. It is their rightful duty to fall as sacrifices, sheep to the slaughter, to return our home to it’s previous glory. Though, something is liberating about seeing the western god chasing phantoms back to where they came from. But he is not protecting those who have joined the infestation; the helovian’s cannot, should not, find any sanctuary or protection here. Reszo is here to return this land to it’s rightful inhabitants. I hope that these foreigners are consumed by the shadows to sate their hunger and desire for magic. Shouldn’t he know? Shouldn’t he be allowing them to pay their sins, and protect his loyal followers? He should know what they did to his remains. He should know that one of these bastards is wearing is pelt. Some wear his teeth as jewelry. Some wear his blood upon their weapons and armors and wear it in vials around their throats. I come to a halt, scanning the frantic scene, and I toss my head. Laughter bubbles up through my throat as my magic rips free, and the laughter turns into a pained scream as my flesh tears and morphs into ghostly white and haunting mist. My yells are hopefully buried enough beneath the rumble of fighting. I step free of my binds after moments too long, and I appear as one of them. I am able to slip free of the trauma, ignored by the haunts, as I appear as they do. But I cannot remain invisible to all. “You did this.” The voice is young, flat, and matches the young face perfectly as it stares up at me. Tiny hooves are planted firmly in the grass, and as I stand before the child, I know that I will not be able to avoid the inevitable. He tips his head, milky eyes looking up to me through long lashes, though they are blank and empty. “What did I ever do?” “Your father was a monster, and you and your mother needed to be spared from his vulgar touch.” My voice is as blank as his eyes as I look past him, searching desperately for the non-existant darkened form of Reszo. “You did nothing but provide a means of punishment for your father. Besides, who knows what you would have grown to be? You could have been a sick monster just as he had been.” I look down at the form, a smile pulling at the corners of my mouth. “Now, why don’t you run along and play?” I leap away, draped in ghostly glory, dancing through my brethren. I feel the child hot on my heels, hear a seething hissing and snapping jaws. A quick glance back revealed something monstrous. Hm, fitting, the child of a monster had indeed transformed into a physically grotesque thing. “Reszo!” I yell, rearing, tossing my head above the crowd. My eyes scan desperately, fruitlessly, as I continue to seek him out. “Reszo, my god, my king! They have forsaken you, stolen you away from us!” I push forward again, yelling my prayers into the empty sky. “Please, don’t let them stay. One who walks among us now wears your pelt as armor, as a trophy, of what he did to you! He has disregarded your legacy. He has disrespected you, and your brethren, as well as us mortals. You need to do something!” I look for him, and my eyes are pleading. He is hope, he is redemption, he is our savior. He needs to deliver us from the shadows and return this land to it’s wild glory. This is our chance. I pray it doesn’t escape us. God help anyone who disrespected the queen

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