Curselock

Chapter 165: The Dead

Chapter 165: The Dead

With Isobel’s newly evolved parasitic weapon, the group had less to worry about scouting-wise. Every now and then she’d take to the skies, fluttering up high to get a lay of the land. Or rather, a lay of the rock valley. From her vantage, any monster along their path was obliterated without warning as a solidified spike of toxic... stuff ripped a hole through their torsos.

What the spike was made out of, Isobel didn’t know. Only that it was akin to spider venom if it got in a living being’s blood. Over all, she was happy with the change even if her rate of fire was significantly lower than the previous evolution. Increased stopping power, flight, and poison made up for that in her eyes.

In the end, while traveling in the storm was safer due to the lack of monster threats, the slick footing decreased the group’s speed significantly. The Archon never appeared again as well, something Isobel was quite happy with.

Leland and Sybil had tried to ask her about the girl the Archon imitated on multiple occasions, but the Huntress ignored them like a stoic statue. After a few attempts, they got the hint. Well, mostly. Leland had a few ideas, none of which he thought he should share. If Isobel decided to tell him, then fine. Otherwise his ideas were his own.

It was on the second day in the rain that the group came upon the first of many dead bodies. Human, armored, and spiked into the ground with enough force to make an isolated crater, the body was nothing but a bloodied mess of metal, exposed bone, and viscera.

Leland said a few words about the body’s soul, but kept it short. If the person was anything like the man who crashed beside them a few days earlier, then the body would be a Harbinger. Honestly he did not care what happened to a Harbinger’s soul, he had long since come to terms with completely eradicating their existence after all.

Soul Fire was a beast of its own, however.

Still, a dull thought occurred to him after reminding himself that Sybil was technically a Harbinger. Well, almost at least.

He supposed he himself would be a better example that not all Harbingers were bloodthirsty fiends hell bent on the destruction or corruption of the innocent. So, looking at the dead body smeared into the rocks, Leland wrestled with his emotions until he decided that he was being foolish.

Until he saw otherwise, not all Harbingers were evil. And each dead body he came across deserved the same as any other.

So, standing over the body, Leland spoke. It was short, it was brash and apathetic. He did not know this person, evil or not, and all he could do for it was hope its soul was in a better place. Which he did, he truly did.

Sybil and Isobel, meanwhile, debated on taking the body’s items. While the armor was crumbled like a broken roof, a few rings and even a bauble or two were fine enough. Splattered in blood and fleshy bits, sure, but otherwise unbroken.

Leland broke the argument by reaching down and dropping the items into his inventory ring. Sybil frowned at him.

“Sorry,” he told her, “but if some adventurers randomly came across my dead body, I’d hope they took my things and get some use out of them. Especially if it meant simply selling them to buy better gear. Gear saves lives.”

Whether from the rain, poor lighting, or the fact that Sybil had been taught to hide her emotions, Leland could not place the look she gave him. It wasn’t irritation or anger, but something more... overt. He couldn’t tell, but the Princess didn’t linger on the subject for long, simply striding off toward the storm’s eye.

It was only a few hours later that they came across another body. This time the body was strung along a jagged rock like a gutted fish on a butcher’s slab. Suffice it to say, Leland said some words from a distance while Isobel fluttered over to take any items of value.

She returned holding a medallion, “Recognize this?” she asked after swiping off the water.

“Maybe?” Leland asked, tilting his head. It was faded, the metal poorly stamped with a few awkward circles interlaced with one another. “Is this... is this the sigil of the Sightless King?”

Isobel smirked. “Worse. That’s the sigil of the Sightless Cult.”

He made a face at it, his thumb wiping the rain off again and again. “We always knew the Sightless King’s true followers were on another continent. I guess it’s this one.”

“Indeed. Or they created a foothold on this continent and no one was able to force them away.”

“But that man who fell from the sky was a Harbinger. And unless the Sightless King somehow actually made it to Lord-hood, the Sightless Cult would only be just that. A cult, not Harbingers.”

Sybil butted in, “What are you two talking about?”

Leland looked at her quite gravely. “Glenny, Jude, and I—”

Sybil and Leland shared a glance.

“Who are we talking about?”

“Abby.”

It was said with open air, a haunted memory, a lost existence. It was just a name, but somehow the word itself extracted pain. How long had it been? How long had it been since she said her daughter’s name? Her heart knew the answer.

Too long.

“Abby,” Isobel repeated again. “My daughter.”

“Was... did that Archon wear her face?” Leland asked, the rain all but consuming his question.

Isobel still heard and through the haze of water splatter she nodded. “Bastard being. I’ll kill it if it ever gives me the chance. Her face... is hers... not some lawless being’s.”

“Where is Abby?” Sybil asked, fearing she already knew the answer.

“Dead.”

“I’m so—”

“I don’t want your pity. It was a long time ago and I’ve moved on.”

Leland bit his tongue but he still grimaced. Isobel noticed, turning on him. “What, boy? What are you making faces about!?”

Long ago Leland had learned the Huntress responded to questioning like a wolf to a slab of meat. She would rip and tear and never let go... but she would also respect the meat for refusing to be eaten, if it had the spine that was.

So, he straightened his spine, looked her dead in the eyes, and said, “Archon’s are experimenters. They take things apart, change things, put them back together, and behold, they have a new creation. There are theories that Archons have to work to better things. Whoever or whatever created them made them to always better things—”

“Get on with it,” Isobel sneered.

Leland closed his mouth, his lips turning into a fine line. He thought for a long second, eventually saying, “I think the Archon felt you were not perfect, so it changed something in you to make you perfect. It showed you your daughter one last time so you can finally remember or finally forget. So you can move on, because I know you, I don’t know you well, but I know you. And I don’t think you’ve moved on.”

Isobel stared at him, heat swelling through her chest. She could rip him apart for mocking her. She could utterly destroy his body and scatter his bits to the wind. She would return to his parents and tell them how he died. She would look them in the eyes and... and... and...

The heat in her heart cooled like lava to a river. She could never kill a child then gloat about it to their mother. No matter how much it would serve the unruly brat right. She just couldn’t do it, not with the hole in her heart. Not with the knowledge that she would be creating an even larger hole in Leland’s mom’s heart.

So as steam rose through her throat, and bubbles welled along her eyes, Isobel stopped her initial reaction and actually thought. About Abby, about Leland, about the Archon, about her life since... since she forgot how to love.

Maybe it was time to forget. Fully. To finally cut away the last strings of what kept her weak.

No, that wasn’t quite right. She had tried that. And failed. All those years she didn’t think about her daughter. All those years she bundled herself in that ratty cloak despite not knowing why she kept it. Maybe it was time to find out. Maybe it was time to remember. Maybe it was time to heal.

Isobel looked away and whispered, “Maybe you’re right.”