Shrilynda had arrived in Bayselle after a necessary strength-gathering respite on the fringes of Curi and Kianne. The respite looked quite a bit like a woman barely holding onto her sanity holing up in a cave and draining anything that crossed her path of its blood, but Shrilynda had come through more than a few lows in hundreds of years of being an enemy of the Naxturae. Blind hate fueled survival until she was strong enough for targeted vengeance.
Sorceress Athena was doing her due diligence to track Shrilynda, of course, but she was limited to all her old tricks. Athena's tricks were effective and bothersome, but easy to anticipate. Shrilynda's power may have been depleted, but that was nothing blood and crushed bones could not fix temporarily.
News of the relocation of Flifary Island flowed through the protectorates like water, but most of the chatter centered around insipid idle curiosities. As keepers of magic, the Flifary were of some interest to Shrilynda. Of course, they were all trapped in the Glade, putting them and any of their magical toys out of her reach. For now. Shrilynda might have found temporary allies in Iketa and Dalor, but they were currently bottled up in the Pit. Shrilynda had seen enough of the Pit to last a lifetime, and she was not strong enough for a breakout, nor did she have any interest. Iketa and Dalor were morons.
No, Shrilynda had no desire to insert herself in the middle of the shifting politics of Flifary Island. She was interested in the divination stone. The loss to Arlana was a faint silver lining on the thundercloud that was the heart-wrenching destruction of such an amazing magical talisman. The divination stone was easily as powerful as the pearl. Without nonsensical ethical restraints and the infusion of the lifeblood of a magical creature or twelve, the divination stone could have been even more powerful than the pearl.
At some point during her despair over the magical loss, Shrilynda realized the destruction of the stone was an assumption rather than a fact. No one piece of information, overheard conversation, or purloined letter spelled out the distinction, but Sorceresses studying at the palace loved to chatter with their friends and family. Generally, they were in awe of Issabeth's skill, which was misplaced praise, all things considered. The pearl had done all the work of transporting the island away from the weapon channeling power from the sun straight into the divination stone. The poor pearl—all that ancient magic gathered across centuries and put into the hands of—
Shrilynda released her clenched hands and took a long, slow breath. She was too exhausted to shoulder the sheer wrongness of it all. She could do nothing about the pearl right now. Right now, she was heading for a Senira outside town. She was walking, which she hated. There was comfort in hating the toils of putting one foot in front of the other, she supposed, but still the sheer time consumption of walking was frustrating when time was so valuable. So she used the time trying to put recent events in order to make sure she hadn't missed anything.
Shrilynda must have heard the same conversation a dozen times in letters or from reports gathered from temporarily enchanted animals who had no clue they were listening in on the conversations of girls returning home for a season. Something about the twelfth retelling of the same story made Shrilynda finally focus in on the details. The island had been transported away from the stone. No one had witnessed the stone's destruction.
It seemed impossible such an oversight might have escaped those who should have been concerned about the status of such a powerful talisman, but Arlana was proving useless without her prophetic abilities and no one else on that island knew anything about anything. Daniella was a shadow of her formidable, conniving self without her memories. It would never have occurred to Rin or her High Sorceress to seek power, and Athena was occupied with inventing order to contain the chaos of an entire people dropped on her previously immaculate doorstep. It really was possible the divination stone might be sitting at the bottom of the Lansilia Ocean. Waiting.
The realization made other stories more important.
One of those stories was about Rosaliy and Drake's fantastic journey to Flifary Island. Shrilynda had not thought to care, since Flifary Island was easy to locate these days yet equally impossible to visit, but the stories became more interesting when Shrilynda wanted to locate the spot where Flifary Island had been.
Not only had the lucky-to-be-alive bandit and the forgettable Sorceress traveled by octopus, according to a group of trainees, the stone was trapped by the silly monkey hanging around the palace.
"Quita is so adorable," giggled Obnoxious Girl One.
"She misses the ocean," whined Obnoxious Girl Two. "They're sending her back to Bayselle."
"Are you sure it's not because the cooks kicked her out of the palace?" asked Girl One or possibly a Girl Three. It didn't matter, really. Shrilynda was unable to listen in any longer without gouging out her own ears.
Locating a monkey somewhere within the entirety of Bayselle was too broad a search area, but Crystal Palace's ties were mainly in Seavale. Shrilynda realized quickly this ocean city was where she had emerged from the Nether Realm and where Iketa and Dalor had captured Issabeth. Shrilynda allowed herself a moment of annoyance toward their half-baked stupidity; she would have used Issabeth and the pearl much more effectively. Beyond that, Seavale must also have been the scene of Rosaliy's escape by ancient aquatic monster.
Baysellians were not as openly chatty or prone to sharing rumors in the open air as the people of Kianne, nor did they publish easily-accessible news to distribute information like the sprawling protectorate of Curi, but Baysellians were accustomed to answering questions from hooded strangers for money. Bayselle was a rather pleasant place overall, excepting the heat and sticky sea air. There was no shortage of criminal elements and black market goods floating around, although the criminal tide seemed to be shifting as much of the underground element retreated further underground.
Of interest, Shrilynda discovered a reasonably-trained young Sorceress who lived in the town of Seavale, but since she was harboring no monkeys, she was a person to be avoided. Shrilynda did appreciate that Rin and Athena were once again locating and training Sorceresses. Their blood fueled the most potent dark spells, and Shrilynda was constantly in need of a new supply. Unfortunately, the magical blood vessels were all loosely under Rin's protection, which meant Shrilynda had to prioritize. Sorceresses could come later.
There was also a Senira just outside town, Shrilynda discovered by accident from a sympathetic barkeep who thought Shrilynda was hiding some sort of gruesome disfigurement under her draped hood.
"Senira Luza did wonders for my husband's stabbing scar," she promised in a low voice while mopping up a filthy glass with an equally filthy rag. "He used to be so self-conscious about it—ran all the way from his chin to shoulder. The Senira gave him a cream. Worked wonders." She emphasized her repeated claim of wonders with an emphatic hand sweep as if that assured the veracity of her claim and potency of the Senira's magic.
Initially, Shrilynda discarded the information. Seniras were a tricky breed. They dabbled in practical magic not technically authorized by the Naxturae, but still a far cry from the dark magic of the Malum. Their harmlessness depended on their skill and whether or not they had magical blood; As far as the magical community was concerned, they sat on the line between—neither friend nor foe. Although their feeble use of barely magical potions and cobbled together spells was not condoned, Seniras were left alone to serve a mostly harmless necessary function in their local communities. Overall, Seniras could be troublesome, and Shrilynda preferred not to tangle with one, but the unavoidable truth was that such a person would have the resources to track a monkey and time was essential.
For lack of quicker options, Shrilynda left town. She unearthed a travel crystal from the bag of supplies buried in the folds of her cloak. She half buried the dull pink crystal by a stand of trees standing guard over an abandoned dock. After a quick glance to make sure the crystal's match was uncracked and safely stowed, she repositioned her bag and followed the Lansilia shoreline to the seacaves outside town.
And so she was walking. The walk was both endless and over in a blink, like most things these days. Moments in time were all out of place and jumbled. She felt like she was coming back to that thought frequently, but also like she was experiencing a feeling she hadn't had yet. Thinking too hard led to tendrils of white that snaked their way into her head and threatened to rip it apart altogether, so she kept walking instead.
Soon, water pinned her in on one side and a high rock cliff on the other. The closeness was a tangible, hungry monster, threatening to corral her and devour her. Shrilynda shook off the creeping feeling, fingers caressing her bag of crystal powder. As if she could be trapped by something as tangible as a wall of rock. Besides, anything that encountered her—monster or otherwise—had more reason to be afraid of her.
Eventually, she rounded a sharp curve in the cliff face and came upon a remote hut plastered with seaweed. The hut appeared unassuming, but there were faint crackles of magic lacing their way around it. Any intruder would alert the occupant instantly. This Senira knew what she was doing, and she was prepared for enemies.
Before Shrilynda had decided whether or not this Senira needed to live, she heard the skittering of rocks from a person clumsily approaching from behind. She could take refuge in the caves just beyond the hut and listen in to the conversation, but she had little interest in the needs of anyone pathetic enough to seek out a Senira's assistance.
She withdrew a pouch with cords looped around her belt. At least she was prepared.
As soon as the man rounded the outcropping of the cliff face, he had a clear view of Shrilynda. He stopped in his tracks.
In the interim between failing to kidnap Rin's children and now, Shrilynda had taken the time to appear less insane. Her clothes were no longer tattered, and her hair—safely concealed under her dark hood—was once again sleek instead of gnarled. Thanks to an immortality potion made possible by a hunter whose family was still mourning his sudden death by a surprise blood-sucking forest viper, she once again looked young instead of ghostly. Shrilynda cared little about the vanity of appearance, but there were social advantages to looking like something other than a living wraith. When this man encountered a slight, hooded woman in dark robes hovering around a Senira's house, he was wary, but not immediately in fear for his life.
"Are you—" His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. "Are you her?"
Shrilynda looped the pouch back around her belt. He was going to make this easy.
"I've been waiting for you," Shrilynda answered.
"Oh," he said, lighting up with relief until a look of confusion floated across his face. He was a man adrift in a sea of emotions, this one. "How did you know I was coming?"
Shrilynda tried to laugh at the question in a knowing way, but she may have injected the cackle with the level of menace she actually felt. She cut off the laugh immediately. "Of course I knew you were coming," she replied.
"Of course," he said quickly, shaking his head at his own stupidity. "Do you know why I'm here, then?"
Unless he was here to inquire the best sleeping arrangements for his new pet monkey, Shrilynda did not care why he was here.
"Let me see your palm," she requested, reaching out a pale arm.
He was happy to comply with this order, scrambling over to her eagerly.
"I hope you can—" he tried to say.
Shrilynda shushed him and held his hand out flat, as if to examine it. She gestured for his other hand, and he stuck that out, too.
"Stand with your palms forward," she demanded, slipping behind him.
He craned his head backward to see what she was doing.
"Eyes forward," she chided, hand creeping toward the pouch at her waist once more. "Stand very still."
The desperate idiot did what he was told, and Shrilynda relaxed. She was not a limitless source of potions, and she would prefer to use her paralysis powder on someone who was not about to die. She reached into her cloak and drew out the knife slipped into her belt.
She placed her other hand on his lower back. "Breathe in," she demanded.
"I'm not sure how this will help—"
"Breathe," she snapped, and he responded by inhaling quickly.
She felt for the bones of his spine and lined up the knife carefully. Her placement needed to be perfect, or she would waste a perfectly good informant. She thrust the knife into his back. The man cried out and tried to flail the instant he felt the knife pierce his skin, but the scream died in his throat before his voice was loud enough to carry above the waves splashing over the rocks. When the knife slid through the bones of his spine, he stopped struggling instantly, straightening up like he was snapping to attention. Perfect.
She stepped to the front. An expression of pain and horror had frozen on the man's face, which was comical, but would not serve her purposes very well. She focused on him, and the muscles of his face settled into an expression of mild annoyance, which was the best Shrilynda was going to be able to do considering her current mood.
If this knife had just been designed for the purpose of magically severing bones with ease, it would have been impressive enough, but Shrilynda could feel the warmth of the Senira-seeker's blood as if it was washing through her. She was connected and in control of him. However, she had only minutes until life left him. Closing her eyes and stretching out her hands, she urged him toward the Senira's hut.
She was rusty and not at full strength. Although she could direct him forward, the man's walk was shuffling, his feet barely lifting up above the rocks. He nearly tripped more than once, but he continued ambling toward the Senira's door. Shrilynda could see through his eyes. She pantomimed lifting her own hand, and the man's fist rapped three times on the weathered wooden door.
The door creaked open, and Shrilynda slipped behind the wall of rock while the Senira appeared in her doorway wrapped in layers of light cloth.
"Thank you for seeing me, Senira," she mouthed, hearing the man speak the words.
"That remains to be seen," Senira Luza replied with a thick, growling accent, but despite her gruff tone, she smiled warmly and clasped his hand. She tried to look him deep in the eyes, but what she saw there must have concerned her. Dead people never had convincing eyes. The Senira's smile wavered and her eyes tightened, cutting deep lines through the visible chunk of her brown face. "Something must be bothering you greatly."
Wasn't she quite the detective? Someone desperate enough to make the trek out to the fringes of ocean caves might have a problem? Shrilynda stopped herself from rolling her eyes as the Senira looked out on the man puppet with concern.
"Yes, Senira," Shrilynda had the man say. "I need to find a special monkey."
Preferably before the puppet died on her doorstep.
The Senira relaxed her hold on him and laughed. "You'll tell me when you find her. Silly creature. Has Cliff sent you?"
Interesting. "Yes."
"Remind him cut up chestnuts and bananas work wonders. Place on plate. She comes running," mused the Senira. "You are sure you had no other problems worthy of coming long way to see me? There is something amiss..."
She stared deeply into him again. Shrilynda felt her reaching—tendrils of magic poking at her man puppet. She had some talent, this Senira.
"I apologize for being out of sorts," she had the man say. It seemed like a thing people said. The puppet man was starting to slump. His blood was cooling, and Shrilynda needed to get him out of there, but she was very curious about the Senira's abilities. Shrilynda yearned to see what she had stashed inside that hut, but priorities were in order. Shrilynda already had the information she needed, after all. The man had a bag draped over his shoulder, so she forced his nearly non-responsive fingers to loosen the cords holding the bag closed. Inside was a melon and a note.
The Senira's face broke into a wide smile. "Ah, you come from Patrice." She took the note and scanned, her wrinkled brow furrowing as she muttered, "A sick child. I hadn't heard about new little one. Of course. Bring her immediately."
Had the Senira implied she had a healing potion on hand? Shrilynda debated killing the Senira now, but what if she needed to make the healing potion?
"Thank you, Senira. Thank you," she had the man say while she decided. He sounded half drunk now.
Luckily, the Senira was occupied with the note and all the preparing she had to do. "Off with you," she said, barely looking his way. "Bring the child as soon as possible."
Of course, he wouldn't be doing that. Shrilynda walked him out of sight and next to her before she tossed a handful of crystal powder at her feet. In a swirling cloud of smoke, she and her puppet were standing next to a clump of trees in front of a crumbling dock outside town.
Shrilynda stretched out her hand, and her puppet stumbled onto the deck. The rotting wood trembled under his weight, and he nearly pitched forward into the water.
"Wait right there," she admonished him.
His arms and head lolled forward, and his body trembled with the effort of keeping himself upright. Shrilynda gingerly placed her weight on the edge of the dock and stretched to grasp her knife. In one swift motion, she yanked out the knife, and the corpse tumbled forward into the water. He would be found floating off shore several furlongs north, judging by the direction of the waves and the wind. It was a shame his death was a wasted opportunity, but dead bodies missing cleanly sliced off ears and eyes tended to raise alarms unsuitable to a Malum woman in hiding.
She slipped the clean knife back into her robes, fixing it firmly into the back of her belt. Time to find this Cliff.