Suspect a Mergence
Under the cover of an impenetrable sea of pink, lilac, gold, white, and red, a sod house stands, sheltering a man by a name long forgotten. Reclusive he may be, but he sits upright in a pressed shirt, his face clean shaven, writing by lamplight more for the ambiance than out of necessity. The roast in the oven would bring him joy if not for the torment of ending a story too soon, with scores of unblemished pages to follow. He never minds unbinding the written-on pages and securing them in a smaller cover, but he had so been hoping that this would have been the one—finally, the story to fill several tomes: the story that would change everything.
He takes no satisfaction in ending this final chapter, but sets immediately to work removing the completed pages and measuring them for a new apple leather cover. His thoughts raced over what went wrong; whether there were too few or two many actors, or not enough skill sets between them. Or, perhaps the big reveal was uncovered too late, leaving no time for the falling action.
As he dines by candlelight—for the ambiance—his eyes flit once more to his smallest tome yet, and he sighed. Tonight, he relishes this perfect roast; tomorrow, he'll bind a new book and try again.
~~~
In the dimly lit hovel adjacent to a forge, two scholars of magic sit facing each other, a mirror shard on the floor between them. The one with pointed ears hovers his hands above it, visibly tense.
“You look like you’re about to shit yourself,” the round eared one teases.
“I told you, this is more Susan’s thing. I don’t have much practice with—”
“Just concentrate. You got this.”
Pointy-Ears tries to relax, focusing on his task, while Round Ears leans in, watching the pink fog in the mirror take shape and dissipate.
“Mills, you're making me nervous.”
“I thought I always made you nervous.”
“Ssssshhhhhhhut. Shut up.”
Round-Ears stifles a chuckle and leans away. His mind drifts back to the forge; even if they could find her, that wasn’t even half the battle. There was still so much work to be done.
“That’s her!”
“Fucking told you you could—”
“Jar!”
Round-Ears grabs the jar, emptying its herbs and oils onto the mirror. With a thought, Pointy-Ears ignites the sludge, the flames seeming to seep into the mirror itself. Every candle in the room goes out.
“Did it work? It’s linked to her now?”
“It’s following her, so, yeah.”
“She’s moving?”
“She’s on a train. Over water.”
“The Archipelago?”
Pointy-Ears stands. “I’ll get her where she needs to be. You’ll keep an eye on her, yeah?”
“Just don’t take so long this time.”
“I was gone for two days, Mills.”
“Yeah. Long.”
~~~
In Uchu, Oscolo, within the Capitol, half-orc Head-of-State Beatrice Kaatsaki paces her office. This isn’t her first term, and being ignored in meetings isn’t new to her. Her stances of what went on during the War of the Gods were controversial, to say the least; the rezoning of the Asheric mountains had displaced thousands of mountain dwarves, and even they don’t seem as bothered about it as she is.
Beatrice stops in front of her picture window, stretching from the ceiling to the floor, and looks over the Blistered Bay. Something is off about all of this. She knows something is off. But to constantly bring it up during public debates risks ruining her campaign for the Asheric Councilor Seat, where she could make a difference if elected.
She turns to the portrait of Eloura on her wall. “What would you do?” she asks, expecting no reply. No one is working harder than Eloura. Not even Beatrice Kaatsaki.
A droning tone sounds from her desk handset. She crosses to it and holds down a button.
“If it’s not about my Mallorie’s delivery driver, I don’t wanna hear about it, Puna.”
“It’s… your takeout is due to arrive in 12 minutes.”
“I’m incredibly busy, Puna.”
“But Ms. Kaatsaki—”
“And today’s fucking Ríklen. It can wait until after the weekend.”
“It’s really quite urgent.”
“Couslen morning, Puna.”
“Kyr’s administrative office responded to your inquiries. They’ve confirmed your suspicions. He’s very much alive." a pause. "Ms. Kaatsaki?”
“I’m listening.”
Suspect a Mergence