Curselock

Chapter 245: Hands

With Leland’s sudden reappearance, the group took a small break. Luckily, for the boys at least, there was a perfectly good boulder to sit on. For Gelo, on the other hand, she much preferred to lounge in the grass.

“I’d say another half-day until we make it to the Tear, or at least, the area the Tear is affecting,” Glenny announced, holding a map Aunty P had given them. “From the looks of it, the actual Tear is out in the wilds somewhere.”

“How do you know that?” Jude asked.

He pointed at the map. “Because there are no cities or towns on the map.”

“Doesn’t mean there’s not a small village or something.”

“A small village can still be out in the wilds—”

Everybody abruptly jerked their heads to the side.

“Everyone feel that?” Leland asked, mentally commanding Zeke to fly over in that direction.

The commander crow had done as ordered, promptly delivering a message about the poachers to Frostford. And luckily, when Leland de-summoned the creature and resummoned it, Zeke appeared. And besides forming a connection between himself and the crow, Leland was glad to know the pseudo-teleportation trick worked. Since then, Zeke had been flying overhead of the group, always vigilant.

This time was no different. The boys and Gelo had run into a few monsters along their travels, although nothing substantial. Zeke had been the first to encounter those monsters, oftentimes shooing them away himself.

This time was different.

“Oh,” Leland muttered, tension suddenly forming in his spine and calves. He leaned forward and closed his eyes, slumping into his crossed legs. “Let me just…”

As he trailed off, his perceptions changed. In a way, he was looking through Zeke’s eyes, but also not. Frankly, when he thought about what exactly he was doing, his brain started to ache. So he just didn’t do that. Instead, he let instinct take over, trusting in his bird companion to show him what he needed to see.

Trees, dozens of them, bent or broken at the stump. Mangled bodies of mundane animals, a few decapitated corpses of monsters. Leland was able to recognize a few of them. Rotclaws, beasts that often dug through excrement and decomposing remains. Forest worgs, wolf-like creatures with the intelligence of a particularly dull human. And lastly, a will-o’-wisp.

The last one made him pause, momentarily coming back to himself. The others were staring at him.

“Something just wrecked part of the forest. Many monsters and the like, dead… and there’s a will-o’-wisp.”

Glenny’s eyebrow rose. “Are you sure? Could you see through Zeke’s eyes?”

“Yes, and sort of. It’s very strange because it was a single will-o’-wisp.”

“Maybe the others were taken out?” Jude asked despite not feeling the question needed to be asked.

“There’s no way,” Glenny said, shaking his head.

Gelo tilted her head. “What’s a willy’-eo’wisp?”

“Will-o’-wisp,” Leland clarified, “are monsters. Kind of. It has long been decided that they are more like inherent emotions given form with magic rather than evolved minds. They gather together and form small communities. Most people ignore them since they are generally harmless. They don’t do anything because they have the instinct to do it, they… do.”

“Like jellyfish,” Jude supplied.

“No, not like jellyfish. Jellyfish, at a bare minimum, know they need to eat, and do. Will-o’-wisp are more like dead jellyfish floating with the current.”

Gelo looked between her friends. “What’s a jellyfish?”

As Jude began to explain, Leland focused once again on Zeke. The crow was still scouting the area, taking long sweeping turns to view everything he could.

Leland, however, asked him to focus on the will-o’-wisp. With the difficulty of looking through a bird’s eyes, he found the monster in question. It was indeed alone, its streamer-like body slowly moving through the trees like a long cloth being wrung out after being dipped into a lake. It was light blue in color, a shade that normally warranted friendliness and general acceptance.

But not in this case. The will-o’-wisp was blue-hot, its entire body, which was entirely made of mana, was the temperature of an alchemist’s flame set to full burn. And yet, nothing was on fire.

Scanning the area, Leland was surprised to see not a single scorch mark. Under normal circumstances, will-o’-wisp usually remained stationary, living together in small burned-down sections of the forest where the ambient mana was high. It was one thing to even see them, if invading their home wasn’t your goal, but it was another thing to see one alone far from home.

It was then Leland remembered something he and the Lord of Magic had talked about. With the addition of new mana to this world from the Tears, monsters were going to become stronger. And by becoming stronger, they would become more temperamental against other monsters they normally would hold no interest in. Territory lines would be recast, a new dynamic would surface, and the food chain would change.

But that created the question, just what had killed the rotclaws and worgs, and more importantly, what forced a will-o’-wisp from its home.

All of this was compounded by the simple fact that they were near a Tear. Which meant the closer they got, the more dangerous monsters would be out and about, right? Leland shook his head, recalling Zeke back to the group.

“Something is happening with the ecosystem,” he said to the group. He took a second to feel the air, which only added to the theory. “The ambient mana feels stronger here. Meaning we’ve entered the affected area of the Tear.”

“What does that mean for us?” Glenny asked, glad to get off the ‘jellyfish, is it a food?’ conversation the bear and brute were having.

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“For now, be more vigilant. Monsters may start becoming more aggressive. As I understand it, world Alpha has nothing in it. So there shouldn’t be any new kinds of monsters we have to worry about.”

“We should pick up the pace, in that case.”

Jude’s eyes widened. “Hey that rhymed!”

The others ignored him, Gelo asking, “Are we in danger?”

Ruffling his eyebrows a bit, Leland answered, “No. Even if the monsters in this forest were empowered by the new mana, there’s nothing here that should cause us a fuss. Although… whatever did that to the will-o’-wisp has me worried. There were decapitated worgs, too.”

“Decapitated? Like by sword?” Glenny asked.

“More like by claw.”

“Hmm.”

“Indeed.”

“Would the extra mana make monsters more intelligent?”

Leland stole a glance at Gelo. “I’d say so. At least, that was how I understood beasts to grow in power from what Floe taught us.” He shook his head, his mind trying to wander. “Ah, whatever. The four of us can handle anything this forest has.”

Jude leveled a glare. “Now you’re the jinx.”

Not impressed, Leland said, “Yeah, yeah. I’d rather be informed and a jinx than to wander into the forest blindly.” He peered at the sky. “We should get moving. When we set up camp for the night, I think it will be time for a negotiation-spree.”

“What’s that?” Gelo asked.

“It’s sort of like the shopping-spree we had at Frostford’s food market, but instead of delicious food, I’m going to be negotiating spells and abilities from Lords.”

“Oh!” the cub’s eyes went round. “I forgot to mention! My mom said to wait a bit longer to contact her because she still doesn’t have anything to offer you yet!”

Every night, when Gelo fell asleep, she had been transported to the Lord of Dungeon’s domain to do Champion work. That meant she was assisting her mom in designing Legacy spells and abilities.

From the way she explained it to the boys, Gelo mainly watched on the sidelines as her mom did spatial magic, adding comments or praise when necessary. Altogether, the family duo had created the second spell within the Dungeon Legacy… which Gelo had yet to properly unlock.

For Leland, Jude, and Glenny, unlocking their abilities came with living life, making realizations about themselves or growing in power. But for the cub, the only option for her Legacy was proficiency in space magic. Which meant things were going to be slow for her.

“No problem,” Leland replied. “I’ve got to figure out my ultimate-healing spells anyways.”

Deciding to focus on healing first, he had made a list of potential Lords that could help him in this regard. Four spells was all he needed, although he technically could get by with three. Healing Touch from the Lord of Nature was a great spell, but he felt it should remain independent from the ultimate-healing.

“You really need a better name for that than ‘ultimate,’” Glenny said, which prompted Jude to nod in agreement.

Giving a shrug, Leland said, “Script-spells? Sequence-spells? Burst-spells? Burst attack? Burst healing?”

“Burst sounds dumb, Leals.”

He rolled his eyes. “Script attacks and healing it is, then.”

“No, that sounds worse.”

Glenny quickly shook his head. “Don’t listen to him. Burst and script are better than ultimate. That just makes you sound like a ten year old.”

“And script sounds more mage-like. More scholarly,” Leland finalized. “That’s what I’m going with.”

“Erm? What does scripts have to do with it?” Gelo asked.

“It’s referencing enchanting script,” he said, receiving a flat look. “Runic script? Spellforge script? Ward script?” He swallowed a sigh. “It’s a technique to layer multiple magical commands into the same enchantment or rune system.”

“Ohhhh,” the cub purred. “I was never taught that.”

“I can—”

“Nope! Already got too much to work on now, as it is! Iceheart and space magic aren’t going to learn themselves!” She brushed into his leg. “Thanks though.”

Leland smiled. “No worries.”

Victoria stared down at her palms, her sleek white parasitic gloves stained red. She didn’t dare look at the source of the blood, she didn’t dare acknowledge her victim. But as the minutes grew and as her thoughts continued to whittle away at her insecurities, her eyes slowly glanced over.

Maybe it was the nerves. The anxiety. Maybe it was the excuses. Like a soft voice in her head telling her it wasn’t her fault. Maybe it was the warm blood going cold. The stench of death infiltrating the small room.

Maybe, just maybe, she’d wanted to do it. She’d been pushed and pushed. Pushed slightly too far this time. Her eyes found the body, his throat torn out, his chest broken inward.

Inquisitor Eli.

Dead. Beyond repair.

She started with a giggle, her bloodied hands slipping against her scalp to slick back her sweat-filled hair. Now that Victoria was looking at the body, she idly wondered how she was ever afraid of such a weakling. Her giggling grew louder. The voice in the back of her mind grew louder.

The investigation had ended. Her crimes had been found out. If she got a trial, surely they’d argue for execution. If not, a life in the dungeons. She couldn’t allow that to happen. Go down fighting, that was what she had been taught her whole life. Crime, streets, darkness. She stole from the wrong people too many times. The wrong powerful people.

It wasn’t her first murder, but the ones before, she’d hardly classify as murder. Self-defense maybe? They stole from her, and she was only taking revenge. They were street-trash. People whose lives were lower than hers. People who, if they disappeared, no one would care. That was why she was mark-less. That was why she was never branded as a Witch.

No one cared about the murders.

It was strange to Victoria, her crimes. She’d killed, yes, but that wasn’t why she had the Inquisitors after her. It was the gloves. Her biggest score of her life. A parasitic item unbound to a host. A priceless item taken from the rich.

The giggling continued. And maybe, just for a moment, Victoria’s senses came back to her.

Covered in blood, a dead body lying next to her, she came back to her senses. She clamped her mouth closed, she held her breath. She didn’t dare make a sound.

And yet, the giggling continued.

“Who!”

She spun, knocking the chair out from under herself and landing in the pool of blood leaving the Inquisitor’s body.

“Blood is quite thick and sticky, isn’t it?”

The voice wasn’t hers. But there was no one else in the room with her. It was only her and the dead body—

“And me,” the voice chimed, reading her thoughts like they were its own.

Victoria’s head swiveled down, her open palms filling her sight. Dyed red, the parasitic gloves pulsed with hunger. They vibrated on her fingers, stretching and constricting all the while pulling at her skin. Pain scrambled across her face as she screamed. Horrid, horrid pain.

The giggling transcended to cackling, and for but a moment, Victoria felt connected, truly connected, to her biggest score. Their minds intertwined, human host and parasitic weaponized soul.

“I-I-I—” Her words never came out, the parasite deciding now was as good as any. She thrashed as it took over her body, her own soul lacerated until it could slip through her former skin.

With a sickening jerk, the parasite took over, ending all unnecessary movements. Its new heart stopped. Its new hair ceased growing. It giggled, its voice coming out as feminine.

With a glance down, the parasite said, “Thanks for breaking her. Good luck in your next life.”

The dead Inquisitor did not respond.

With a flick of its new nose, the parasite turned and faced the sunset. It sniffed, the scent of abundant mana overwhelming. It exited the room, uncaring of its bloodied body and took off toward the mana source.

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