Morningstar

[CH. 0026] - The Promise

Finnea's screams, piercing and haunting, reverberated throughout the cavern, amplifying the weight of the agonizing moment. Baal clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as if he could hold onto her pain and make it his own. But when he could take it no more, he shouted, "Wait! Stop!"

The Dryad's incantation ceased, the glowing sigil vanishing as if it had never been. Her gaze met his, her eyes filled with a mingling of curiosity and scepticism. "Have you changed your mind?"

"No," Baal replied, his voice tinged with a desperate urgency. "But I have something else, something far more precious than what I initially offered. And I believe it will satisfy you more than Finnea ever could."

"And what is this offering?"

He pulled off his necklace, its pendant catching the dim light of the cavern as he approached the Dryads. "This pendant holds my most cherished memory. A moment of pure, untainted happiness."

"And you would give this treasure away? To barter for a child's pain?"

There was a newfound curiosity in the Dryad's voice, an edge of disbelief that anyone would part with something so intimately personal.

He hesitated, staring down at the pendant in his hand as though it could somehow answer for him. "If I return without Finnea, I risk causing immense sorrow to someone I care about. But if I return without this memory, no one will know what's missing, not even me."

He looked up, locking eyes with the Dryad. "To me, that seems like a fair trade."

The cavern was quiet for a moment, the air thick with tension and uncertainty as if the very walls were holding their breath, waiting for the Dryad's verdict.

The word hung heavy in the air. "Show us."

Hesitant, Baal's thumb stroked the surface of the crystal pendant. An ethereal projection materialized before them, casting a soft glow in the cave's darkness.

"But I don't have happy memories to give you!"

"Then we create happy memories together."

The scene cycled repeatedly, each time with the same earnest promise. The Dryads' eyes remained riveted to the projection, their expressions morphing from scepticism to something indefinable.

"This is not a memory," one finally remarked.

"It's a promise!" interjected another.

The last Dryad, her eyes like glowing emeralds, locked onto his. "Did you keep that promise?" she questioned as the projection dimmed and finally vanished.

"Yes, I did."

"How do you know?"

Baal took a deep breath. "There is a tower in the Netherspheres full of those happy memories. There is not one empty shelf left on that tower."

"Aren't you supposed to consume those memories? Isn't that the essence of your dark trade—happy memories turned into magic, into power?" The Dryad's voice sharpened as if cutting through layers of deceit.

Baal sighed, a complex interplay of emotion crossing his face. "Yes, you're right. That's generally how it works."

The Dryads exchanged glances, their faces a mix of consideration and wariness, before finally nodding in unison. "Very well. The trade is accepted."

Baal's hands trembled as he unscrewed the pendant's cap, approaching the Dryad, who had extended her palm. The contents looked like grains of sand, shimmering briefly before losing their lustre. As each grain vanished into the Dryad's hand, the memories they held dissipated from Baal's mind, leaving vacant spaces in his mental landscape.