Dowager of Calamity

Algernon.

How can a person be so obnoxious to the point that I want to bite his throat clean through?

This stranger must have instincts sharper than my nails; he's overbearing and severely presumptuous of someone who he can't even see with his own two eyes. If he thinks that I'm involved in illegal activities, then the obvious implication is that he knows something about the temple, like the temple worshippers' fluency in the Forgotten Tongue. Or am I overthinking this? It seems I've been caught up in another hellish situation and now I don't know how to get out of it... All I know is that I don't deserve this.

But then again, this might be part of my Divine Punishment.

After casting the configuration for the Fezenska Technique, I expect an odious event or some life-altering magic to whisk me away from the Sacred Nine. I'm disillusioned as the seconds tick over and I'm left in the brisk cold, standing right where I was seconds ago.

"Aksanna-mera, Fellion!" I feel the constriction in my chest as the price of magic rips through me unbidden.

Time doesn't stop like I want it to, and yet I I still feel blood vessels pop. A torrent of wind slams into the barrier that keeps me imprisoned within the red circle, and since it cannot get in, the funnel of supernatural energy just circulates the barrier, spinning wildly around me and Algernon. Leaves, rocks and twigs join the twister of green, frantic wind; Sages from outside the phenomenon are shocked our supposed disappearance, but we know better.

He's not in any real danger. He'll either overcome my magic or I'll reject his configuration. It's a battle of wills at this point. Algernon is using a Third Level Rapture Position against me, so I'm sure he'll be significantly drained from the effort of keeping me here.

A feral gust of air shreds the robe around Algernon's head, revealing the rest of his face under the moonlight, and I nearly stagger with surprise at how unusual he looks overall. The blue and brown eyes have been an unexpected development for sure, but his skin is so unnervingly white that its nearly translucent; not to mention that his long, ash-gray hair is tied into a ponytail.

A ponytail.

I want to pull it...

How does someone projecting a 'fairy-like appearance' give off such... dangerous energy? That's the question I mull over as I maintain the Second Level Rapture Position.

Sweat drips down my chin. I bite my tongue to keep myself focused, because I can feel my arms wobbling from the strain. At least I've had some practice at this kind of self-induced torture.

Algernon's stubborn chin is pointed down. His head rocks back and forth, those eyes of his losing focus. Is he... passing out?

"This Sage is not going to last," My master whispers into my head, "The minute he breaks the formation, you can step outside of the circle. I will be waiting for you."

"Where are you?" I ask aloud.

"You cannot see me yet. Do not fear, my student. I am nearby, waiting for you."

My voice stirs Algernon into an upright position. He grunts and shakes off the throes of lethargy, glaring into the space where I'm standing. The veins on his neck are prominent, and I can just feel all that blaring, dark rage emanating from him... If it were to hit me at any point, I'm sure I'd pass out from the intensity alone. He's a walking pillar of seething magic and hostility, everything about him a nexus of contradictions where there should be none... Where does someone so young and disproportionate in attitude store that all?

Through gritted teeth, he vows, "Dream-Walker. Do you really think you can run from us? I will hunt you down, you dog. And I will burn you! All of your traitor friends at Rushing Water Temple will feel the wrath of the Paldarosi Empire."

My skin crawls at the sight of him and at the words coming out of his mouth. He has threatened everyone I've ever known in this life. I cannot forgive him for this. I do not know him and I don't want to - not now and not ever. My heart sinks because this meeting, for whatever reason, feels monumental despite the arguably precarious circumstances.

What if we could have been friends? No, what a stupid idea...

As soon as I see his arms drop, I take it as a sign of him losing strength in upholding the configuration. My resolve to escape hits me like adrenaline. My feet tap the barrier softly, and when nothing pushes back at me in protest, I lunge over the red line; the wind ceases its terrible howling and the deathly spirals of wind.

Algernon notices instantly when I'm gone. The red circle loses its glow. I'm already running to where my master has appeared in the tree line. She awaits me with open arms, her face a sturdy picture of clenched teeth and stony eyes.

"I want to leave this place."

"And so we will, Belsifear." My master holds my hand just as Algernon tracks in my direction, alerted by the sound of my voice.

He's stubborn and relentless and fearless... I want to hate him. I don't think I can, though. Maybe the gods have put him on my path for a purpose. I just have to learn to avoid him at all costs.

With one hand in mine and the other on my cheek, Totoya whispers something in Dedjurian, her eyes closed. Relief makes me sigh, and I give one last look toward the blood-spattered dais - the group of Sages standing around are unaware that their configuration has become useless.

My ghostly form begins to fade away. Totoya and I disappear from the plateau. The wind, the night and the hills of the Sacred Nine are torn into fragments around me, and I'm hurled into a black void in the ground where there is no color, no light or shade or time. No feeling.

I gasp...

My eyes peel open slowly and I find myself in the Healing Tower. I clutch my chest, still feeling the after-ache of magic. I'm back here and I'm awake now.

I'm awake?

'Master Belsifear!' Advisca's voice shreds into my head and I wince at his unrestrained volume, 'I was worried that you wouldn't recover in time!'

I can't help it, my hands clap over my ears as if he'd shouted into them directly. Something nudges my unyielding grip and I turn to discover that the room is occupied by people. The snout pestering me can only belong to my Thrinskar, who is in high spirits over waking me up. Behind his broad back is my master and the High Priest.

This unexpected party of visitors swarm the Healing Tower, the throng persisting like an incurable migraine despite my discontented looks at every single one of them. Priests come in and out of the room, cleaning away the plate of food that looks like it might have been there for a day, at most. I'm confused by the discussions happening around me, and as talking seems to be a bit of a struggle at the moment, I just pull the bedsheets over my head.

No one talks to me yet and I'm grateful to be afforded some space to wake up on my own. My Thrinskar is nowhere near as considerate as other people, though. His thoughts pervade my own and despite my attempts to block him out, I receive visions of Rushing Water Temple getting overrun. The gates are blasted down and a sweeping incursion of shadows plow into this sacred place, looking for something or someone.

I keep hearing a name throughout the visions. My head thrashes as I'm pulled through images of blood and fire and terror.

I choke on the words that threaten the safety of this place, "Dowager! Dowager of Calamity!"

It feels like I'm on fire. I rip the bedsheets off and fling myself out of the bed, my heart clenching so fearfully that I stagger into my Thrinskar and let him hold me up.

Agmito and Totoya's conversation is shattered by my hoarse interjectory. They share a meaningful nod before coming over to me. I hug my divine companion and rub my face into his snowy pallor, needing to find reassurance after what I've just seen. It can't be a coincidence. First my dream and now these visions.

Something weird is going on. I dig my fingers into Advisca's mane, readying myself for the discussion that I didn't want to be involved in earlier. Just who is the Dowager and what does this have to do with me?

The High Priest adjusts the straight-backed collar of his robes, the stiff expression on his face melting into one of mild discomfort. He blows out a breath and gestures at the redhead next to him, his eyes darting around the room as he speaks, "I hardly know where to begin, cousin. This is not how I wanted to introduce you as the Dowager to Belsifear."

"Dowager? Who is the Dowager?" Despite his words, I glance back and forth between Agmito and Totoya, not really comprehending his nervous admittance.

My master rolls her eyes and sits on my now vacated bed, folding her arms, "Bright in all areas except one, my student. Please be quicker on the uptake. It is I, the Dowager of Calamity."

No, this can't be. The way those Sages spoke about the Dowager gave me the impression that Totoya was vile and indestructible; they made her seem like the Dowager needed to be stopped at all costs, for she was their nemesis, a harbinger of evil. My mind can't seem to grasp their panic, though. My master as a bad person? The one who has been looking after me? When I think of her, I think of afternoon walks around Rushing Water Temple, and the unforgiving hours of the Fezenska Technique, but also her motherly grace when I'm trying to avoid showing my emotions.

And yet, Agmito and Totoya are telling me the same thing. This woman and the person whom Algernon fears are one and the same. Is she a monster, then? Well, to put it in more precise terms, she is the 'Dowager of Calamity' - that moniker of hers can't be earned unless fatal calamity is involved, right?

I lick my lips. "Master Totoya is the Dowager? Okay. I understand."

My Thrinskar can hear every impulse I have to throw myself out of the Healing Tower and avoid this conversation. I'm a dichotomy of conflicting wills. I no longer want to understand my place in the universe or where I stand with my allies. The truth just might break me. I don't want my heart to be shattered by whatever grains of feeble illusion they may opt to feed me.

Agmito looks at my feet, his brown eyes assessing the agitated stance of my body. I've been leaning towards the window, fixing towards the open, unguarded space for some time, and now that everything is unravelling, I find that the urge to jump out is stronger than ever.

Totoya blows out a breath and tucks a stray, red lock behind her ear. "Running will get you nowhere, child. We still have to discuss your newfound identity as a Dream-Walker... or were you honestly hoping that your dream-walking powers were a one-off and that you'll never have to deal with Sages coming after you again like today? Foolishness is not a luxury that you of all people can afford, Belsifear. Remember that."

I grind my teeth together because... yeah, maybe she does have a point. I don't know anything about Dream-Walkers.

"How is it that I've never dream-walked until today? Will it happen to me often and how do I make it stop? I nearly got caught by those Sages at the Sacred Nine!"

"Controlling your powers aren't going to be an issue - just as long as you don't avoid dream-walking. It is who you are now. Do it regularly and with sigils of protection on your body; then you should be able to reel your projected form back into your physical body with no problem."

My brows nearly slam together on my face as I voice my frustration, "What exactly went wrong the last time I dream-walked? Other than the fact that I was unprepared and had no training whatsoever? I mean, I get that I had no sigils, as you so eloquently explained, but what do you mean by 'reel my projected form' and stuff?"

Agmito offers to get us some tea, and Totoya readily agrees, as though this is going to be a lengthy explanation. Advisca trots over to me and leans against my leg. I rub him behind the ears.

'Try and be open-minded, master.' My divine companion murmurs.

Having him back in my space is a comfort to my soul that I can't explain. It makes me so unbelievably happy, and all my jaded edges that I tend to hold against other people seem to soften around his presence.

My master and the woman now known as the Dowager tips her shoulders in an insufferable shrug. "First of all, Demi-Urgaen, you are the embodiment of correctness. Wrongness is improbable for you. Not impossible, just improbable, yes? And your lack of dream-walking experience is attributed to none other than yours truly - so now that we've assigned blame, let's move on. I have not warned you that there are subtypes of our kind out there. Dream-Walkers are a special classification... The rarest." A note of purposeful vagueness suffuses her words, making me frown.

"And you didn't think it was pertinent for me to know any of this? I am your student, aren't I?"

"Do not be offended, Belsifear. The likelihood of you being one was already a long shot. I did not sense the Stigma of Galateya on you. She is the Goddess of Dreams and the Deadly Sleep, and without fail has branded each of her chosen ones with a mark of discernment on their skin for centuries. Agmito was the one who found you, remember? As a precaution, the servants did a check on your body for injuries and discovered no such brand. So I was absolved of the possibility, or at least it seemed that way until today. I should have known Galateya would be interested in one such as you."

I can't help but bristle at her sparkling amusement. I don't want to be under the persevering lens of the god's anymore. It is precisely what I don't want.

Advisca, sensing my unease, wraps his vine-like tail all the way up my leg and purrs. I recognize it for the valuable distraction that it is and exhale deeply for his sake, pretending that my master's words aren't stones and arrows pointed at my heart.

The High Priest re-enters the room, followed by a few servants. The smell of strong, black tea sweeps into the stony room and my stomach grumbles, reminding me that I haven't eaten properly in quite a while.

Agmito guides me to a seat and places a warm cup into my hands, his tendency to take care of me before him overriding his own penchant for tea-drinking. My heart aches as I watch him go about the room, handing out drinks to the others. Even the servants are allocated a ceramic cup before he takes a seat on the edge of my bed, and sips from his own with a contented sigh, satisfaction plastered all over his face.

I'll never understand him and his easily satisfied heart. Just as I raise my cup to my lips, his eyes stray to my own and he blinks, as though reading my mind.

Our drinks lower at the same time and I glance down, thinking that I've overstepped. His chuckle is reminiscent of a clap of windchime bells, and the sound fills me with tremendous relief. How is it that I can never feel stressed around him? His energy is simply uplifting, I think to myself as I swallow more hot tea.

Totoya walks over to me, breaking my inner tranquility and kneels at my feet. I sense that she is going to hit me with more hard news and I brace myself.

I clear my throat and pinch my lips together, putting on a strong face for Agmito, "Master."

"The Sacred Nine. We should talk about what you saw." My Master declares, a glint of darkness in her eyes.

"I didn't see anything. Not really. They just... They were talking about sending Retrievers after you. I didn't hear anything important, master."

"What else? I know that there's more in your memory, Belsifear. Think back. What did you do in your dream? Where did you walk and who did you talk to?"

Her words are quite... leading, in a way? I didn't exactly talk to anyone. And the person who "attacked" me wasn't able to see me. He was right in assuming I was there, though.

I stare down into the black water of my tea and reply almost in a zombified tone, "It was... windy in my dream. Three houses, three clans, I think. A meeting at some kind of dais. They spoke of agents who had failed in going after the Dowager. Um, the names of the leaders were Perdita, Bevolin and Albaghor... It all happened so fast, master. I don't know what else you want me to recall."

Her head tilts as she observes me like a spider watching a fly. "You saw something else... Perhaps another configuration?"

My spine goes dead straight. "I can't remember what they were doing exactly. Many died performing it."

Agmito calls from behind us, "Those three clans share blood ties. You see, a long, long time ago their ancestor made a deal with one of the gods. Their ancestor, a rival of Vienarti, wanted their bloodline to be the only one with a special ability that was 'god-given', and he asked that no one other than their own be able to perform it. This configuration is so powerful that it can trap Dream-Walkers and other subtypes, even certain gods. In the end, the bargain was struck. The problem is, there is a clear difference in the spiritual abilities these days compared to back then. The mental fortitude that is needed to maintain the integrity of the configuration is foundational when casting, otherwise the Sage will die on the spot. It's the price of magic, indeed."

"Windhollow. Echomere." I repeat the name of the clans.

Agmito nods. Totoya continues to stare and her fiendish grin makes me clench my teeth. I huff, feeling like her cat-like attention is going to make me reach out and tip my tea on her head at any moment. I shouldn't be having these thoughts, and the ever-growing presence of the Vile is quick to attach itself to me, but I hate how much her scrutiny gives me the chills.

My master sees too much in me. Or am I just overly transparent?

"Windhollow, Echomere and Tidehaven. They are the three prongs of the noble family, the ostentatious Ripleywells." Totoya stands back up and leans against the wall, adding with a golden smile, "Three clans in one family. You may be thinking... Why, master Totoya? Why not just one clan? Well, a power struggle is the obvious answer. However, things tend to be a bit more complex beneath the surface. As the Dowager, I can guarantee that things are never as they seem."

"I only want to know if things will affect the Rushing Water Temple." I blurt out.

"Ah. And now we have reached the crux of our social gathering."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, my dear. For starters, I am the Dowager of Calamity, just not the one they are looking for. A grave injustice has been committed in the shadows to frame me, and I fear there are machinations happening outside of our control..."

I set my cup down by my feet. "Hang on... When I was practicing the Fezenska Technique outside of the temple before, and I saw those 'things' were they Retrievers sent from one of the clans?"

She nods her assent, looking merely thoughtful. "I noticed that you used your Divine Eyes to see them. Keep bonding with your Thrinskar and your spiritual gifts will be aplenty."

My Thrinskar's lean and sculpted body arises at the sound of my breath. I get up and he follows me to the bed. I glance at my seniors.

"I need to master dream-walking, but first I need a proper sleep. Master, I want to make sure I don't go anywhere. Can you show me how? We can resume this topic with fresh minds tomorrow."

She comes over and pulls out a stick and a knife. My eyes widen with wariness. Agmito comes over and holds her back for a moment.

"Is this necessary, Totoya?" He begins, sounding strained with concern.

"I don't like this anymore than you do, but I have no sigils with me. This is the only way."

My mouth goes dry as I watch her pull my hair away from my neck. She searches behind my ear and when she finds something, a mark that wasn't there before, she nods.

"Yes, of course. It would not be in an obvious place. I need to strike through it, Belsifear. Do you understand?"

"W-why?"

"The Stigma of Galateya is almost like a key. So if each dream is akin to a place, than the stigma will most certainly give you access night after night. Sleeping becomes your doorway. The Stigma of Galateya might not have been active before, but it is now. You will need to mar the stigma each night to prevent yourself from dream-walking. Another way is to have control of your abilities, or to have sigils that keep you contained in your physical form. I'm sorry, Belsifear."

I shut my eyes as she takes the knife to the back of my ear. My breath comes out ragged as the tip slices from my hairline in an arc shape to the middle of my throat. It feels bigger than I thought.

"Can I see it?" I ask her.

"It's not that noticeable to the eye. When you cast configurations, it will glow bright. Other than that, no one will know. I can feel it's essence, though. I'm familiar with the Stigma of Galateya."

Blood drips down my neck and I touch the wet warmth, feeling slightly dizzy. Agmito steers me into bed, telling someone to grab a cloth. After that, things happen pretty quickly. A rush of movement, buzzing words that fall on empty ears.

I finish my tea quietly. With a bandage around my neck, I sleep to the sound of Advisca snoring beside me on the bed, content that we're finally together again.