The
silence after my question was total. It made the distant,
ever-present wails of the Mistlands feel unnervingly close. She
didn’t move, and the black veil masked her expression, yet I felt
her undivided attention. The pressure was suffocating.
It wasn’t
until what felt like minutes had passed that she managed a faint
shrug.
“I am but naught,” she sighed, raising her head. “Of
what importance is mine bygone to thee?”
It took me a moment
to parse the archaic phrasing. I
turned toward my rucksack, to the faint glow of the device
within.
“Since I came to this place,” I said, “I’ve
recorded
everything. From images to sounds. If I die here, at least the
record survives.”
I turned back to her. “Your story is the most important thing in
this hellscape...maybe that’s why I’m here. To ensure it isn’t
lost.”
She bounced the idea around in her head. I had to lay my cards on the
stone floor.
“Not
only is my FloCaster broken, I
can’t even raise my Flo output without my mind shredding, and I
don’t know how much juice my equipment has left. But you,” I
gestured frantically, though
she couldn’t see it. “you
sit here like you’re above
it all!”
She
managed a quiet, sarcastic scoff.
“Teach me.”
“…Doth
thou deem that a fitting query?” she replied calmly. She was
right.
“..Please. Are you willing, or able, to train me?”
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She smiled, a kind of smile. “And what,”
she asked, tiltting her head, “would I gain from
this...transaction?”
“Do you have anything else to do?” She fell quiet as I look past
her, at the tendrils binding her arms, at the forgotten armour in the
gloom. “And frankly, I am terrified of you. But if I get stronger,
under your guidance, maybe I can help us both.”
Silence stretched until she broke it with a hearty, warped laugh.
“An
amusing gamble,” she said. “It is well thou didst not touch my
bonds. Else, thou wouldst have been as dust.”
I asked if she was joking. She was not.
The reality of my situation was almost idiotic. Stranded between a
rock and a hard place, I scoffed in my mind. But a resounding
pity settled over me. Maybe what they both needed in their isolation
was a friend.
“It’s been said,” I offered with a shrug, “that some things
are better when you’re not alone.”
Unbeknownst to me, the words made her freeze. A single tear traced a
path down her veil. I asked if something was wrong.
“Thou reminded me of someone,” she whispered.
“So, what do you say,” My voice softer and steadier than I felt
as I picked up the recorder. “You talk. I’ll listen and learn.
And when you wish...I’ll talk too. A story for a story.”
She looked up, her expression one of pure surprise. “Thou
wouldst..share thine own tale?”
“It’s only fair. You’re entrusting me with your history. So
I’ll trust you with mine.”
She looked down at the floor. “A story for a story,” she echoed,
weighing the concept. “Very well.”
She straightened her kneeling posture as much as the bindings
allowed.
“I shall start at the beginning. Where I was considered the
Church’s abomination.

