Interconnected: Spliced Souls

We wasted no time. As soon as the seals went up, we told Dineria about everything that happened. She cried throughout it all and took everything to heart.   

She sat at the table with us. Her hands were occupied by myself and two others.  

Dineria kept it well hidden as she shivered in her boots. Hearing about how close Arcton came to destruction… That was happening just a stone’s throw away, and no one knew about it. And if it had happened there, couldn’t it have occurred at Canary? The forbidden skills were frighteningly dangerous and potent with no limits when wielded by unashamed hands.   

Dineria listened closely to Albert’s fight with the necromancers, their army, my new abilities, and the new undead. And unfortunately, the elf knew it was impossible to save everyone. Albert with the citizens… Itarr with the slaves…  

“I was scared… So…so scared,” admitted our mentor in a voice I hadn’t heard before. The tone differed from when I told her about my secret. She felt so vulnerable and fragile. Even more so than brittle glass. “I haven’t felt that way in a long time. It wasn’t just me, though. It was Claire and Nimyra. We thought... We really thought you weren't coming back, but I never wanted to give up hope. I couldn’t accept that.”  

“We’re here now. I’m sorry we made you worry.”  

“No. Don’t be sorry, Momo. You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re safe. You’re all safe and sound. I don’t know who to thank, but I’m thankful you’re back… Claire and Nimyra will be so relieved… I can’t wait to tell them.”  

“It’s my fault,” Fisher finally added. He had been quiet the entire time. His food was untouched, and it was probably stone cold. “I’m the connecting dot. I’m to blame for all—"  

“That’s enough,” Dineria barked. Her attitude became fiery for a split second. I knew she probably disliked Fisher more than ever. “I won’t say anything you haven’t heard or thought about.” The response was as sharp as a knife.    

Fisher went silent after wincing. Dineria’s heart suddenly ached. She shook her head, turned to Merka, and apologized for what he had endured while asking permission to perform a quick medical exam on Olga.    

Thank you. I’m fine. I can’t say I accepted it, but I think I can live like this. Servi said I can be her spirit.   

“That’s right. It’s the best cover.”  

“And it is,” said Dineria. “I won’t say anything. Olga’s fine. She’ll be better after food and rest. I don't detect anything to be worried about. Just to be sure, we can have an apothecary look her over soon.”  

That’s good news! Thank you!  

“Me too! I don’t wanna get sick. I wanna stay with Merky!”   

“You’re such a cute kid. Is the food yummy?”  

“Uh-huh! Mr. Albert made it for us!”  

“And I’m delighted you find it delicious, my dear. It serves this old heart proud.”  

“Old? You don’t look a day over 17.”  Dineria’s relief increased with every heartbeat as she informed us about Arcton. Her information matched mostly with the skeleton priest’s report. It was almost the same, which proved how capable it was at gathering info.    

In short, it was under martial law. No one could be out past night without an excellent reason. Food and water distributions were under heavy scrutiny. Anyone who even dared to eye another’s meal was promptly warned and threatened with jail.   

The soldiers’ arms were heavy, but Dineria expressed the city needed order. She had said Duchess Ashford was in talks with the crown after sending a squad of craftsmen to help—they had probably already arrived. And there was talk of a tax to be levied on Arcton’s nobles for the repairs that were met with disdain. Dineria hinted that the king would put his foot down if it meant the city recovered faster. Gross opulence had no place when the Arcton was still licking its wounds.  

Dineria said no one agreed on what happened. The people near the gate reported seeing a fight between a girl and a witch, an ogre, and a Rhinokin. Then a robed woman approached. Others didn’t see that and instead claimed that the walking dead surrounded the city. Others refuted those outrageous falsehoods and said the pink light that destroyed the mountains caused damage to Arcton.   

You could ask a hundred people, and they would have wildly different truths.   

“Oh, Percival mentioned something about a robed priest helping when the initial response squad arrived. I didn’t think it’d be one of yours.”  

“Umm… Did an elf and a dog show up at the guild or your store?” I asked, thinking about Saline and Cue. Dineria shook her head and said nothing like that happened. She wasn’t always at her shop, but her employees said no one came looking for her. “I guess Cassidy was telling the truth. They must be safe.” Recalling that made me remember Sissy.    

When I mentioned her blessing and anti-necromancy field spells, Dineria said it sounded like she was from the Wytchguard Covenant. They were a sect of witches loyal to the Tobristic Order—the world's primary religion. The witches' existence was hidden. Dineria didn’t know much because rumors were easy to find—the truth was much rarer. Albert knew they were genuine from when he was still loyal to Virin Keywater, but he had little information about them. Sissy hated me because she thought I was a lich pretending to be human.   

“It doesn’t matter,” I said, looking at my hands. “She’s dead. The ones who did this to Merka are gone. The golem infestation should be solved. Err, there shouldn’t be anymore.”  

“What about Srassa? When did she get back? How is she taking it?”  

Neither Momo nor I expected Dineria’s response. “She didn’t. She’s still in the capital, but that's all I know. You’ll have to ask her father.”  

“That’s understandable. Adenaford’s probably the safest place for her. I hope… It won’t be much longer.”  

“Hey... What’s...going to happen? This can’t look good to Keywater and Westera, can it?” asked my goddess. “How...are they going to respond?”  

Albert said Virin would probably take advantage of the chaos. It wouldn’t be another false flag attack—those had to be sparingly used—so it would probably be a ‘false genuine concern’ or something. Anything to continue whatever idealized plan the emperor had in his wrinkled mind. Westera was less power-hungry and more capitalistic. They were far from Arcton, so they wouldn’t have any substantial worries, at least not like Keywater, whose borders were within a month of casual travel.   

“They’ll probably blame Lando for developing a new weapon or spell. When surrounded in a vacuum, Keywater has justifiable reasons to be alarmed. Westera too.”  

“I don’t want war to break out... I don’t...” whimpered Itarr.   

“That’s not likely, sweetie,” said Dineria. She turned to Fisher and asked his opinion, dragging him into the conversation.   

“If there is conflict, it’ll be limited to light skirmishes from heightened tension,” said my newest revenant in a quiet voice. “The king could extend invitations to Westera and Keywater to investigate the area as a show of goodwill.”  

“Yep. I’m sure that’s what happened,” added Dineria. “The guild’s probably involved as a neutral third party to keep the peace. They’re often contracted for joint operations between unfriendly countries to stop anything bad from happening.”  

“The guild?” For some reason, Vexor Blackscale popped into my mind. “Do you think he’s involved?”  

“It seems likely, although I cannot say for sure one way or another. I doubt we’ll ever know the full truth.”  

I wasn’t much for politics, though.   

Dineria was about to change the subject until her ears twitched. She canceled her seals and unlocked the door.   

“I hope you caught up!” said Percival. “I know you must be tired, but some things cannot wait. Can you follow me?”  

“What does this concern?” asked Dineria.    

“Lord Flynn and Duchess Ashford are requesting your presence. They’re at his estate, and a carriage is waiting for us out front.”  

“Really? They couldn’t wait until morning?”  

“I’m afraid not, Ms. Dineria. Trust me. I asked. I see a little girl who can't keep her eyes open, and this is the last thing I want to subject her to.”  

“I’m sorry, Olga. It’ll be a little while longer until you get your rest.” Olga didn’t respond. The poor girl was already sound asleep in Merka’s warm arms.    

“Once again, allow me to apologize. Now, if you’ll follow me…” Percival left, and we followed. Dineria remained close as we descended the steps. Albert and Fisher returned to my ring, and we soon arrived at the carriage. We made the tight fit work after Merka made himself slightly smaller. “And onwards, driver. Let us depart for Lord Flynn’s estate!” The duchess’s bodyguard closed the window, and off we went…  

The ride wasn’t quiet.   

Percival wanted me to confirm Albert’s report to the winged-wildkin who found us near the forest. The questions came after he said he was happy to see us safe and sound.  He probably wanted to catch me in a lie. 

There was something about him… I didn’t know if it was an over-eagerness to be friendly or what, but alarm bells sounded off in my head.  

“You know, I need to give you an apology or three,” he suddenly said after a moment of silence.   

“About...what? I’m sorry, I don’t understand. You haven’t done anything to us,” I said. “Are you referring to the rest house? We know that’s a glorified prison cell.”  

“Haha. Well, you’re not wrong. It’s not just that, though. The Canary Duchy hasn’t been gentle to you. The underground market? The burning of Dock 77? The unconfirmed reports of the walking dead gathering around Arcton? The missing mountains? Don’t get me started on the wasteland that’s enveloping half of Arcton’s outer fields. You wouldn’t happen to be a magnet for trouble, would you?”  

“At this point? I don’t doubt it.” Itarr and Momo held my hands a little tighter. It was meant to be a joke, but I didn’t think Percival received it like that. Looking at him closely, he looked like the duchess’s twin. Although perhaps it wasn’t strange for a man to guard their sibling when you were a duchess or baron. The rules of nobility didn’t apply to me, and I didn’t much care.   

“Ah, you three are certainly close.” The blond-haired man pointed to our connected hands.   

“Is that a problem?” Percival shrugged off my partly hostile response. 

“No. I didn’t say that. It’s an observation—nothing more. Strangers can become closely bonded, especially after surviving some harrowing ordeal. Forgive me for implying the unsightly or unnecessary. That wasn’t my intention.”  

“Well... I can’t deny it. Sometimes...when you meet someone... You know you’re meant to be the best of friends.” Momo squeezed mine and Itarr’s hands. The goddess sat between us. “Time only strengthens an already strong bond at that point.”  

“An interesting response I hadn’t heard before.” The man touched his chin and looked deep in thought before telling me how rare a Bicornkin spirit was. “And the other spirit is Finn, you said?” I nodded. “And a golem, too? Isn’t that difficult? You’re still early in the guild. I’d imagined sustaining three spirits would’ve left you drained and exhausted.”  

“No...? It’s fine. It’s not making me tired.”  

“I see... How impressive...” Percival relaxed and flashed a smile. “Humanoid spirits require more skill energy, but one of rock? Arcton’s seen more than its fair share of golems, so it’s not unexpected that one would answer your call. Hmm... The circumstances could’ve been far better.”  

He’s trying too hard. What’s his angle?  

“Anyway...” Percival changed the subject and said the entire Arcton situation was under the Nail’s command. “Lord Flynn’s the big honcho in charge, you know.”  

“Yeah, I kinda figured that. It’s just like when he rescued me from the underground slave market.” My smile was anything but one. My stomach churned. It felt like something sinister was on the horizon. To someone like Harold, I must’ve been an oddity. It was like Percival said—I'd been in the middle of too many strange events. And Harold knew I had killed Fisher since it was on his orders. 

Momo and Itarr felt my feelings, and the carriage continued to roll through the darkened noble district until it arrived at its destination. 

*****

---

*****

Everyone looked at us like criminals—possibly because we were being escorted like one. Percival walked in front and escorted us through the mansion to a meeting room on the second floor as armored soldiers kept sharp, unblinking eyes on us—like they were daring us to make some foolish move.   

“Lord Flynn? Duchess Ashford? It’s me. I’ve brought them.” Percival rapped his knuckles on the door and waited for a response.  

“Come in.”  

He opened the door and stepped out of the way, and there they were—Harold and Duchess Ashford—along with a few soldiers. I saw that eagle-faced woman Itarr told us about. And there was a woman with pigeon-like wings folded neatly against her back.  

“It does my heart well to see you’re unharmed,” Harold said as we entered. He motioned to the couch and beckoned us to sit. “I’ve read the reports. I’m not so heartless to make a little girl uncomfortable when she’s suffered greatly. There’s a room down the hall for her to rest in.”  

The two winged-wildkin escorted Merka to the room. Dineria followed. Harold continued, but only after the door was shut, leaving three immortals alone with Lando's most politically frightening people.   

“I won’t sugarcoat it, Servi.” Harold’s voice dropped an octave or two. “The situation isn’t looking good. It’s not just Arcton or the mountains, either. It specifically concerns you and your happenstance appearance whenever trouble rears its ugly head.”  

My heart dropped. “Don’t tell me you think I’m somehow responsible for it. I’m a victim.”  

“That is what we want to believe. Servi, someone broke into the castle. They specifically targeted my daughter’s room—”  

“Is she okay?!” Momo exclaimed. Harold sternly told her to calm down.    

“She’s unharmed, but they stole the items you gifted her. They chose them over kidnapping my daughter. I am thankful she’s safe. Srassa’s in a secure location surrounded by the Nail’s strongest soldiers. However, I cannot help but wonder why they risked it all to steal your creations.”  

“I can’t believe this…”  

“Can’t or don’t?” asked the duchess, finally speaking.  

“Both! Those items aren’t anything special! It must be someone trying to frame me for something! It might be related to my missing memories! You must trust me on this! I want answers more—”  

“Lower your voice.” Harold’s voice was cold. He raised a hand, and I noticed two guards had their hands on their weapons. I didn’t even know I was almost shouting.   

“Surely you can see it from my perspective. Do you know how odd it is to see a woman claiming to have missing memories encounter someone who looks extraordinarily like her?” He finally acknowledged Itarr, who wanted to shrink away and hide. “Not to mention one that has the same ring? And a ring that happens to be on a singi who looks nothing like a singi?”  

“We met Itarr on the road,” I said. It was forceful, but I made it amicable while scrambling my mind for a noteworthy lie. “Her similar appearance and ring are why we became fast friends. Itarr’s also without any memories other than a few months back.” That last part got their attention.   

“A few months? What can you remember, Itarr?”  

“I...” She looked to me for help. “Darkness. And then a forest. And then warmth. I traveled alone for so long, and... I encountered Servi and Momo. I wanted friends. I wanted someone. I didn’t want to be alone anymore. It's a scary feeling...like I was drowning in a sea without an end. And when I met Servi, I thought…we were somehow connected.”   

Harold and the duchess shared a look. She looked past me and stared at Percival before speaking about Momo. “Are you a Foxkin?”  

“I...dunno what that is. I’m a singi. I’ve always been one since I was a kitten.”  

“How do you explain the ears? Or the tail?”  

“I... I’ve always been me.”  

“And the ring? Where did that come from?” The question came from Harold.   

“I gave it to her,” Itarr butted in. “As a symbol of our friendship. I had one more on me.”   

“Isn’t that too fast? You’ve known each other for a few days at most, correct?”  

“I...” Momo said what she told Percival. The bodyguard couldn’t disguise an unnecessary chuckle before clearing his throat.   

“Regardless... Your appearance has significantly changed since you left Canary. That fact cannot be disputed. Furthermore, there are no records of anyone with fox-like properties.”  

Harold's words were clear. Foxkin didn’t exist. The man had access to libraries and information I could only imagine. Someone as thorough as him would not have left a stone or passage unturned or unchecked. A wildkin went through puberty—that was a statement everyone agreed on, but changes as drastic as Momo’s? That was very rare, if not outright impossible.   

Momo was, perhaps, the first or last of her kind? That lookalike had those fox-like ears and tail, so was her power and appearance imparted to Momo after...she took my blood? It seemed like that was how it played out, but I couldn’t be sure. I really couldn’t.   

“The girl’s name is Olga, correct? Do you know where her family is?” asked the duchess.    

“They’re dead. She’s alone,” I said, explaining that Olga ‘told’ us about it when we found her. She latched onto Merka because he felt warm.   

“Warm?”  

“It’s what she said. I don’t know if her family is truly gone. Maybe they weren't, but with what happened to Arcton…”  

“I understand. I’ll tell the commander overseeing Arcton's recovery efforts to find her family. However, let us return the topic to you. Lord Flynn, if you would?”  

Harold sat straight and adjusted his tie. One by one, he asked me to confirm the validity of the following statements.   

Was I involved in the attack on the underground slave market?  

Was I involved in the Dock 77 incident?  

Did I have a relationship with Fisher Jin and Arnold before their deaths?  

Did I play a part in the chaos that occurred at Arcton?  

Did I know the truth behind the Arcton Mountain Cataclysm?  

The answer was yes...but I couldn’t say that. Harold’s eyes looked like a snake ready to pounce. Admitting the truth felt like tying my noose because he threw about Fisher and Arnold—I killed the former on his orders.  

The rings made us immortal. Death wouldn’t stop me. We’d win if a fight broke out. Except I didn’t want violence. I didn’t want whatever Harold had planned. He also asked about the blood crystals and wondered how I imparted skills onto them, and I said my nameless goddess granted me the ability.    

“I am a victim. I was kidnapped and taken to the market. And I was snatched again in Waveret. You can ask Dineria, Momo, and your daughter. I don’t know anything about the reported dead attacking Arcton. Momo passed out after the mountains vanished. We did see the green cloud, though. The earth shook when this green pillar exploded skyward. It looked like a type of gas or something, but it formed the cloud. And then it sped towards Arcton. The mountains vanished…an hour after that? Maybe two? It’s difficult to place the events on a timeline.”    

Harold narrowed his eyes. I couldn’t read him. He had confirmed Srassa’s parentage in front of the duchess. I knew that meant something, but what? Something was missing…  

He asked Momo the same and then directed the questions to Itarr.   

“I believe you. If you cannot trust anything I say, please have faith in that statement. Just know that your actions are suspicious.”  

No. That’s a lie. He doesn’t believe me… Why not call me out? Why go this far? Why can’t I read him? Just what is he planning?   

“Lord Flynn speaks the truth. To an outsider, you’re a threat that links the trouble the Canary Duchy has experienced over the months. You’re a suspect to even the blindest bats,” added the duchess. Her gown matched her stern eyes. Percival walked from behind the couch we sat on and stood behind Duchess Ashford, looking my way with a hand resting on his sword’s pommel.   

I couldn’t refute them. I was the sole enigma connecting every concerning event within the past few months. 

“There is only one choice. You are to be put on house arrest until further notice. You may not leave the city without reason.”  

“House arrest?” Momo gulped. “Not like...actual arrest?”  

“That’s correct.”  

“Even Itarr? She doesn’t--”  

“She doesn’t have anything to do with it? That’s naive thinking, Servi,” chimed Harold. “Let me be frank. Either take house arrest and live with freedom or refuse and be clasped with shackles. There is no other option.”  

I looked at Momo. Itarr stared at us. Her hands trembled as she squeezed them, and...  

“We...can live with that. How long will it be?”  

“Until the crown can be convinced you’re not a threat. If you wish to change your mind, Servi… Do it now. Once I send my report, it cannot be amended. It’ll be up to the king and his council of advisors to determine your future.”  

“Even when we’re innocent? And the victims?”  

Lies.  

Lies.  

Lies.  

It was all I could do. 

“I am on that council, Servi.” Harold softened his expression. “I wish to believe you have a case of bad luck following you around.”   

Harold’s dangerous... This doesn’t make sense. Why do this? Unless...does he want something from me? Perhaps he wants to strike a deal later to be freed? Why else ensnare me in a trap?  

“Percival?”  

“Yes, Duchess Ashford?”  

“You are assigned to Servi, Momo, and Itarr. Monitor their movements and send me daily reports.” She turned those golden eyes to me. “Percival will inform me if you need to leave the city. I hold the power to approve or deny your requests.”  

“And we have no say in the manner?”  

“Not if you wish to spend the next weeks or months in a cold cell.” I asked for clarification. “I surmise you wish to stay with the Queen of Night. That can be arranged. Or I can offer my mansion to serve as your home.”  

“Nimyra’s. We’ll stay there.”  

Harold made us sign an affidavit. I bet this was a formality. It wasn’t like I could say I had signed these under duress. That probably didn’t exist. Harold struck me as the type to use fear to get what he wanted.    

His overall… attitude, I guess, diminished. Then it increased. He was impossible to read.   

It unnerved me.    

Was I playing into the palm of his hand? My anxiousness was through the roof!  

Just what the hell was I missing?!  

“Would it be inappropriate to ask a favor?”  

“It depends, Momo. There are things even I cannot do for you.”  

“Srassa... Can you let her know we’re safe?”  

“We? Or do you mean Servi and I? Itarr should not know my daughter.”  

“She doesn’t!” Momo blurted.    

Harold didn’t buy it. I saw it in his eyes.  

“Yes. I can do that. A message will be sent upon my return to the castle.”  

“There’s one more thing. It’s about an elf named Saline and her dog, Cue. They used to live here until they went to Arcton, and someone hired them to deliver a letter in Adenaford via a teleport mage. That happened about 18 hours before the incident. She never did say who the recipient was.” Another lie, except this had the thin veil of truth clasped over it like a mirage.     

“You want me to find out? That is an invasion of privacy.”  

“It’s not that. I want Saline to know we’re fine. She's probably worrying about us.” 

“That’s more understandable. I’ll do what I can. If there’s nothing else, you’re dismissed. I’ll prepare transportation to the Crimson Grotto within the hour.”  

“Yes. Thank you, Lord Flynn.” We stood and left, and Percival tagged along like a lost puppy.   

“Oh?” He brought attention to the glowing barriers surrounding the door flanked by two soldiers. That could only mean Dineria’s seals. So... Why use them? Unless... 

Slowly, I knocked on the door, opened it when the dull light show vanished, and...  

There she was...  

A purple-skinned elf with a heart much too large... With a soul much too kind... Sitting on the bed...holding the hand of a sleepy, malnourished girl... in clothes that hinted she didn’t have to change before leaving her apartment.  

“Nimyra...”  

“Welcome back...” Tears continuously spewed from her reddened face. She gently lowered Olga’s hand and approached us, and Momo and I ran to her...  

“And you...” Her soft voice brushed past my ears and targeted Itarr. “You’ve suffered, haven’t you? Dineria told me. Your memories... It can’t be easy...” I knew this was her way of telling Itarr without letting Percival or anyone know the truth.   

“I...” Itarr shook away her hesitation and joined the embrace. This...  

This was what my goddess wanted... That physical connection... The emotional overload brought about by simple contact.  

We settled down after a minute or two—Percival cleared his throat and reminded us he was present. He told Nimyra and Dineria about our house arrest and how things would play out from here. “It may not be easy to have a man live with you, Ms. Nimyra. Please forgive me. I do not have a choice.” His words were genuine, except...something about them triggered an alarm.   

“That won’t be a problem, dear. I have more than enough room. A man serving the duchess will be the utmost gentleman, yes?”  

“I swear on my mother’s life." 

“Now... Why don’t we head home?”