Who The Fuck Is Dangu?

Nyell's head was spinning. 

He started to regret impulsively telling the world he was bonded with Allen. He had wanted Lapis to shut up. His haughty attitude was getting on his nerves, but now…

Now, Lapis and friends were staring at him with a worshiping gaze. He almost missed their arrogant behavior from earlier. The White Moon tribe had always been hostile to him, so how could they switch gears so swiftly? Were destined mates that much of a big deal for shamans? 

Whatever the answer was, he didn't want to know. He had the foreboding feeling that he wouldn't be able to escape if the cryptic bullcrap they had been spouting became clear bullcrap. As they say, ignorance is bliss.

So, Nyell fled. 

He could handle the White Moon tribe's warriors when they were out for his head. But when they were out to convince him to marry their chief, he suddenly didn't know what to do. 

It was scary, alright?!

On the bright side, Lapis and company weren't as fast on their feet as him. They weren't as agile, too, giving Nyell ample leeway to avoid them as he sprinted outside the hut. It felt like playing tag with kids.

His father and Isa didn't try to hold him back, shaking their heads and chuckling, while Myrven and Layla shrugged. They hadn't known Nyell for long, but they expected such an outcome. If he didn't like the god of fate choosing his mate for him, he'd like it even less when other werewolves tried to push a mating ceremony onto him.

This kid had a problem with authority. At least he didn't outright beat up Lapis, who had been doing most of the talking. Myrven was thankful for that.

Turning a deaf ear to Lapis and Hersyl's pleas, Nyell bolted to the jungle under the questioning gazes of the villagers. He wasn't a teenager anymore, and escaping his pursuers was a piece of cake. It didn't take long before their voices and footsteps became whispers, rustles carried away by the wind.

Good riddance!

.

.

Nyell strolled through the jungle, letting his feet guide him. He had no goal and unconsciously walked to his tribe's memorial cave. 

"…"

Hesitation and pain flashed in his emerald eyes. He stood still for a few minutes before going inside. Few souls might have remained, as the daemon devoured most of them, but the memorial cave was still where his ancestors' ashes rested. After coming all this way, not paying his respects wouldn't do.

Nyell slowly walked through the small passage to the cave's center. It still looked the same. The moss cast a pale blue light over the memorial tablets and the stone platform. Isa's offerings had withered, but new ones had been added.

"How are we going to tell our people they're praying to empty graves…?"

Corriel hadn't shared the information yet, just as he hadn't told the people what they were fighting against. He didn't want to induce panic and fear into the people, as it would make it easier for the daemon to possess them. 

From what Allen had gathered before disappearing, the shaman had been helping the daemon by lowering the people's resistance to possession with the healing concoctions she served. The herbs she prescribed to help with the pain after an injury also numbed the mind. Isa took some after twisting her ankle because the shaman said her ankle bone might have been contusioned. The pain had been severe, and the painkiller had been welcomed. 

Now, people didn't even need to take the concoctions or the herbs to be seized by the daemon, for fear had already rendered them vulnerable. Everyone couldn't help but wonder who would be the next victim. They were frightened not only for themself but also for their loved ones. It played on their mental health, and the nightmares and lack of sleep didn't help. If they were to know that vanishing meant losing their souls…

"But I still don't get how I ended up possessed," Nyell tsked, frowning. "I have confidence in my mental fortitude and haven't eaten anything weird. So, how?"

"Well, Dangu's familiar spirit wasn't supposed to take you over either."

The familiar voice startled Nyell, who snapped his head toward the passageway. There stood Allen, his lips stretched into his usual lazy smile. 

"Hi, it's been a while."

Nyell didn't even have it in him to curse the man out, pinching the bridge of his nose instead. Would the White Moon tribe mind if he killed their chief? They seemed to have difficulty handling him. Who knows? They might even thank him.

"When I'm searching for you, I can't find you." Nyell took a deep breath. "When I'm not searching for you, you show up. Ironic, isn't it?"

Allen responded with a soft chuckle, not denying his words.

"And what the fuck is that."

Nyell pointed to the thing floating beside Allen's head. It was pitch-black, looking like a round fur ball with two big and small pale blue eyes, one pair on top of another. It had a fluffy tail, minuscule paws, and four pairs of small horns crowning the top of what Nyell guessed was its head.

"Dangu's familiar spirit."

"Who the fuck is Dangu?!"

"The daemon."

"You're on a first-name basis with that thing…?"

"It's a long story," Allen shrugged as if to say there was nothing he could do about it. "I don't have much time, so we'll have to keep the questions for later."

"You have to be kidding me!"

"No. Dangu is waiting for me, and I don't want him to lose patience and go on a rampage. I only brought Myur to make it spit out the souls it hasn't digested yet."

Allen petted the familiar spirit, ruffling its hair. Myur chirped and rubbed itself against his hand, appearing very happy.

"It did its best not to destroy the souls that had yet to be digested after our meeting, waiting for its master to give it permission to release them. And now that Dangu has, Myur will spit them out. We needed a good emplacement so the souls wouldn't scatter and wander, and the closest place was your memorial cave. Sorry for coming in uninvited."

"Who cares about any of that!" Nyell roared. He couldn't help but think of his mother. What if she was among the unscratched souls? "You're telling me not all souls are lost…?"

Instead of answering, Allen smiled and gestured at Myur to open its mouth, which it gladly did. The thing had looked cute until it parted its lips, revealing rows and rows of sharp teeth and a bright red tongue. Its mouth, which had been hidden by the black fur, was almost as wide as its body. If anything, it could chop off a grown man's head with one bite.

Nyell instinctively massaged his throat, but he didn't take his eyes off. A stream of translucent balls tainted with hints of blue and purple flew out of Myur's mouth, hovering about in the cave. If Nyell hadn't known better, he'd have thought they were Will-O-Wisps.

"Good boy," Allen complimented the familiar spirit before focusing on the souls. "I'll help you reintegrate your memorial tablets. As for those who don't have one, you'll have to reside in the stone platform until the Black Moon tribe crafts a tablet dedicated to you."

The souls seemed to tremble, some harder than others.

"I don't want to hear any complaints! If you're unhappy, you can always go back into this kid's stomach. It has starved itself to protect you, and it certainly wouldn't say no to a snack."

As if on cue, Myur wagged its tail. It seemed to be waiting for someone to whine again, eager to fill up its stomach. Sadly, there were no more complaints.

"Good. Tell me your name one after another, and I'll guide you to your resting place."

On the side, Nyell watched Allen go about. He knew shamans could connect with the souls of the dead, but he had been told that the discussion between the two entities was rough. It didn't seem to be the case with Allen, though. It was as if he was conversing with living beings. It floored him how the White Moon tribe chief took the time to read each tablet and patiently guide the souls into them. 

As someone with very limited knowledge about shaman stuff, Nyell couldn't comprehend what was happening. He'd need to ask Myrven later. 

The souls gradually returned to the wooden tablets or went into the stone platform. That was until only one was left. It seemed to say something to Allen, who cocked an eyebrow in response. He then turned to Nyell.

"There is someone who would like to talk to you."

"…?"

"Give me your hand. I'll temporarily channel my spiritual energy into you and open your senses."

Nyell was hesitant but ultimately did as told. The moment he wrapped his fingers around the man's hand, pain irradiated throughout his body. His eyes seemed to burn while his ears shrilled. He was about to yank back his hand, but Allen firmly held onto it.

"Sorry, endure the pain. It won't take long."

Easy to say! The pain was excruciating. Nyell had to bite his bottom lip until it bled to resist the urge to kick Allen away. But it was worth it. His blurry vision slowly cleared up to reveal a face he had missed dearly, oh so dearly.

"Hi, son."