From Pact to Oath

A Strange Courtyard, and Deeper Within Dibarra’s Realm
 
The courtyard was swept clean by no living hand, only by the tireless brush of a broom that would not cease its work. Scattered about it were coins, trinkets, scraps of cloth, and other small things easily lost. I could not help but wonder—were these copper coins symbols of forgotten memory? A copper for your thoughts… Yuri at first considered pocketing a few, but thought better of it—a wise choice, I believe. Frederick eyed the ceaseless broom, perhaps even thought to take it, but found that it would not still itself even in his hands. Always sweeping, always bound. Around us lingered the shapes of creatures with mouths sewn shut and eyes crossed over, locked forever in the last task they had done before memory itself abandoned them.
 
Later we came upon a lonely square where a brass brazier burned low, and beside it waited a fennec, forgotten and forlorn. A familiar, I realized, trapped in a grief too heavy, waiting endlessly for the call of a master who would never return. It was a pitiful sight—horrid even—and I pray such a fate is not shared by all companions who outlive their bond. My Lady teaches that death should be release, not this—this cruel halting of transition. Something here has meddled, defying Her will. Yuri, ever the rescuer, gathered the fennec into his care despite my counsel. I do not think my words would have swayed him; his spirit is too tightly bound to his role. I transcribed the symbols of the bracer onto a parchment. Maybe i can help him from the real material world.
 
Deeper still, within the palace, we met an old man reaching ever for something—his Tasmia, perhaps—but his arms found only empty air. Was he forgotten by the world, or had he forgotten himself? Everywhere here, the line between those two truths seemed lost.
We found also a music box, its tiny ballerina forever dancing to a single tune. Frederick, with his skill, coaxed the melody forward, and with Alizée’s keen ear they unraveled a fragment of the First Song of the Founding. Shal’Azura’s past whispered from the gears and notes. Aura’s curious clock-hand, housed within her strange gauntlet, then drew us further, pointing to the way. To follow it we had to leap from a high window into the depths of this impossible city. For me, such a descent was easy—my Lady has always guided my steps through shadow—but the others required Yuri’s rope. I advised him to use his pact weapon as anchor, and he did so wisely. Five-head, as the young might say.
The city was vast, haunted, and terrible. At one point we came upon a great tree, and beneath it a child swung upon a creaking chainen rope. Unlike the other shades of this place, this one was cruel in its presence—unnerving, suffocating in its malice. We withdrew without great harm, though Yuri’s stride was less steady after. Here my hope faltered. I longed for a brief rest, a moment to gather myself. But my companiens denied my request, this realm offers no rest; to linger here is to risk being consumed by it, to lose oneself piece by piece. Rage welled within me at first, but in time I knew it true: this is not a place where one may waste even a heartbeat.
 
Then came the true height of the day we reached the square where Ibn-al-Hadibi awaited. The Forgotten Founder. He was bound in a song, mourning for his beloved Salome. Chained in a memory of a song of her, Alizée, with my aid, found the name to complete his melody,
And then Steam, of all of us, rose to the moment. He performed the hero’s deed of the day—he gave Ibn-al-Hadibi back his memory. Is he restored now? No longer Forgotten? And so we stood before not a broken phantom, but a Djinn—no less than Ibn-Ice-Hadibi, one of the Elemental Court of Ice. Ice, my Lady’s veil… was it chance that led me here? . I cannot help but wonder who else belongs to that Court. His command of the elements was awe itself, and it stirred something deep within me. I gave him my name and swore to him to hold these tenets close:
 
Beget creation with destruction.
Lead with splendor and grace.
Respect the elements, and fear their wrath.
 
It is astonishing how seamlessly my Lady and the elements entwine—death, destruction, transition, creation.
 
Is he now my master? How strange—the tales always tell it reversed: mortals command djinn, not serve them. Yet I do not serve him, nor bend my will. It is the elements themselves I honor, in their purity. Ice is clarity, cold and truth; from destruction rises creation, and through transition, new life. My Lady’s touch is no enemy to this truth—rather, they entwine. hihihi—so he is now my master? A Djinn as master… in all the stories it is always the other way around! XD
 
But no, I see the elements as the purest truth. Ice-clear. The cold in which I first awoke has always been pure, and all things are born from the elements.
 
 
(Side note: Runak Hellmark—one of the Founders, perhaps?—may not have been entirely wrong with his “aluhut theories,” hihihi…) Only the carp… what is, or was, with the carp?