The Cursed, Pt. 5

The Cursed

Part 5

~x~

Unlike the front of the Chancellor's home, the back was nearly remote. It was equally decorated, with streamers looped around lamp posts and confetti peppering the ground. Most of the partygoers were inside and the few that were outside sat huddled together in their own circles filled with light laughs and excited murmurings.

Also outside was a young man who stood a bit far off from the other guests. By the fountain he stood adjusting his clothes. He was close enough to see what he looked like, but not close enough to hear what he was seemingly saying to himself. The people did notice this timed movement of his lips but assumed it was the workings of a delusional man and told others to stay far, far away.

To everyone else, he looked like any other man at the party: festively dressed as Nicholas Cloud. His snowy white hair looked silvery under a nearby lantern, and his clothes dated back to the days of old: timely yet fashionable. Yes, he fitted right in with the others, but there was something else to him that was hard to pinpoint. Something too subtle to pick up with only a few glances.

If one were to look closely, though, one would probably assume that this young man and Nicholas Cloud were the same person. But no, the ordinary folk would reason with themselves, that couldn't be true. Nicholas Cloud prances away with Willow Halfmoon on his horse in their last and final tale.

And there were no mentioning in any of those stories of Nicholas Cloud being a madman.

The young man was not unaware of the native folk's suspicion of him. He knew very well what he looked like: a lone figure who was talking to himself. Also: a lone figure who looked startlingly like a storybook character. But he did not mind this misunderstanding or their distance. It kept the questions at bay, and no one was brave enough to stalk up to a possible madman with probing questions.

What the folk did not know was that he indeed was talking to someone. Next to him stood a shadowy figure visible to none but him. There was nothing definite of its features except that it was shaped as a man but with no eyes or nose or mouth. It stood, hulking next to the young man.

"And you're sure about this?" asked the shadowy figure, and it spoke with a masculine voice tinted with disbelief. "This place?"

The young man adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves with an annoyed touch to his motions. This was the fifth time he was asked this. "Yes, Aldon. It's here."

"And suppose it's not?" Aldon challenged, which was not surprising at all. "Suppose you've spent all this time, preparing and preparing, and then to come here and find out it's not actually here? This is Terran we're talking about. Terran has had no magic since its existence, not until those pesky witches arrived here. Why would the Halfmoon pendant be here?"

The young man lifted his head from his work, looking at Aldon square in where his face would be. His voice was calm as he said, "Believe it or not, magic has existed here well before those witches came." The shadow figure made a gesture that seemed to ask for more. With a sigh, the young man said, "Grandfather. It's all in his journals."

He should have known his answer wasn't enough to suffice Aldon, and it proved to be so when Aldon made a huffing noise. "And you trust it? Without considering anything? Sebastian, I believe that grandfather of yours lost his mind to old age when he wrote those entries."

Sebastian felt his lips twitch at the words — words he'd heard so many times since their travel to Terran. Words of doubt, words of hesitancy. He couldn't blame Aldon, though, for his skepticism concerning the rumored magical artifact. A rumored magical artifact said to be hidden somewhere in a magic-less settlement. It sounded implausible, even to Sebastian's own ears. And had it been anyone other than his grandfather claiming such a thing, he would have let the information pass over him, unconcerned.

But it wasn't. It was his grandfather who revealed this in those secret journals. Secret journals that only Sebastian was in possession of. And despite the missing information on just how his grandfather knew the Halfmoon pendant was in Terran, Sebastian would pursue it.

And he would make Aldon see. He would.

"March, the year of the Second Faerie War," Sebastian began to quote, and imagined himself in his grandfather's shoes, his grandfather's time, "Terran has it. It does. I've only been here a few weeks, but I can feel it. It's small and unnoticeable, but it flares whenever triggered. As for what triggers it, I'm still trying to find out."

"The Second Faerie War. He was most definitely losing his mind around then. That was the year he never summoned me."

Still lost in the past, Sebastian continued to quote, "September, the year of the Second Faerie War. I am not any more close to finding anything than I was in spring. Though I did notice something within me whenever I am around this man, Mr. Reuben Lance. I do not know much about Mr. Lance except that he is a part of the Chancellor's official orchestra. I will look into his profile a bit more."

The shadow figure mused, "Something within him — oh, silly Sebastian, perhaps your dear grandfather is lusting for this Mr. Lance." The edgy tone in his companion's voice reared Sebastian out of his reverie, and suddenly but not unusually, he frowned. He didn't like being called silly. "Have you ever thought to put that into your calculation?"

He had, but that was before he'd continued reading the journal. He wouldn't give Aldon the satisfaction of being right, though, by admitting this. Sebastian was not one to voluntarily occlude any bit of information from his searching. He would exhaust any and every direction his endeavor sent him to; in the end exhausting himself. But he didn't mind it — that addictive rush he felt when playing detective. The delicious shiver that would run through his spine whenever he felt like was closer to meeting the end of the tunnel.

And albeit in a strange way, the downside of it was equally addictive: the crash of his spirit when the end of his tunnel would be nothing more but a brick wall. But that was only during the times Sebastian wouldn't take his time, wouldn't wait until all the evidence was collected to move ahead. The times when his excitement hinder his workings.

Yes, he was an impatient one, unlike his grandfather, whose entire life seemed to have been driven with caution and carefulness. The kinds of things Sebastian would pretend he had in him.

His chin raised, Sebastian said, "In Grandfather's next entries, he specifies that he sensed something whenever near this Lance. The same kind of sense he gets whenever he uses magic. No feelings of desire noted —"

Aldon interrupted with a heartbroken sound. "How tragic."

Lifting his shoulders once, Sebastian continued, "Perhaps. But more importantly, Grandfather went on for pages about how he thought Lance was possibly a wizard too, pulling clues together. Day and night he wrote."

"Of course he did. You didn't get that annoying knack of exacts and precises from nowhere," Aldon said, uninterested. "But we've been here a month. There's been no flares."

"Forty-eight days," came Sebastian's automatic reply, and didn't miss the slumping of Aldon's shoulders.

"Yes," Aldon continued in a voice that didn't seem to want to argue, "and that's my point. It's been this long, and it usually doesn't take this long to determine if something is here or not."

Sebastian felt his eyes narrow slowly. "What you need to understand, Aldon, is that this is not Ralmer, Ontamro, or Elwen. This is Terran, a place said to have no magic at all. You have to expect that things will take time here."

Aldon huffed, "Apparently so. It took a very long time for that blasted balloon to detect the pendant, supposing it is even here."

"A pendant like the Halfmoon pendant can't be expected to be found so easily."

"Considering a Halfmoon pendant is as powerful as that old man claimed it to be." At Sebastian's formidable stare, the shadow man let out a sigh, and to Sebastian's ears, it sounded like a resigned sigh. "All right. I won't pester you more about it, but I do hope you know what you're doing."

Sebastian didn't hesitate when replying. "I do."

Aldon said, "And that fake curse mark? Is it only to scare those witches or is there something else you have planned?"

The fake curse mark: a circle that had eight lines piercing through it, meeting at its center. Eight lines meant to represent the Eight Talmic Lords of Darkness. A curse mark like that meant business, meant harm. Seeing a curse mark like that would sent any normal being running.

But not those witches. At first, Sebastian wasn't sure just why he could still detect their presence, oozing in magic, in Terran, day after day. Not until the day he decided to assuage his curiosity he'd used his curse to view that Magdalene was in charge. And then it made sense.

Cool, collected Magdalene. Surely she was able to keep her witches firm in place. Either she knew it was a fake or was actually waiting until something happened. Knowing Magdalene, though, Sebastian figured it some third option unknown to him. She was always unpredictable. Always other.

Sebastian said, "Ah, yes. The mark. I suppose there's no use parading it around anymore like it actually means something. And it's not like it's done it's job. Magdalene and her witches are still hanging around."

"Then you should you remove it soon — before those Talmic Lords really do show up."

A highly unlikely occurrence considering the Talmic Lords were put down centuries ago, but Sebastian would remove it anyway, for it served him no purpose. And there was nothing more he disliked than holding onto useless things.

He lifted a clenched hand before him and uncurled his fingers, a small replica of his balloon floating above his hand. A blow of his breath, and the pseudo curse mark was wiped away. He clenched his hand again just as a guffaw of laughter broke out, drawing Sebastian's eyes toward a group of people huddled in a circle.

In a voice tinged with slight amusement, Aldon murmured, "Humans. I believe their creativity when it comes to their traditions is something to admire."

Sebastian tilted his head. "While their creativity may be admirable, you have to admit their naivety is something to pity. It's quite sad how they make the biggest fuss over the most irrelevant things. These balls — they're all pointless." His eyes narrowed as one of the men dressed as Nicholas Cloud started whispering in a Willow Halfmoon's ear. "And this one is the worst of all."

Aldon's tone was light: "Come now, the admiration for your grandfather is rather amusing."

Amusing? Sebastian thought it was insulting. In a matter of decades, they'd turned his grandfather from one of the greatest wizards of Azarlin's history to nothing more than a love struck storybook character.

In a dry voice, Sebastian said, "Not at all." When he arrived, he'd seen multiple folks dressed as his grandfather and his supposed beau. It was almost enough to make him want to pull out his hair. "They started this nonsense only decades ago. Silly of me to think they'd give it up."

He removed the hat from atop his head and turned it upside down, its opening a dark, seemingly bottomless pit. He motioned it to Aldon wordlessly.

Aldon made a grunting noise. "So soon? I thought I would be able to watch alongside you."

Sebastian did consider this idea. Aldon, being one of the Shadowwalkers, was invisible to all but to the one who summons him. There would be no widened eyes or covered mouths if Aldon strolled alongside Sebastian, all because no one would be able to see him. And Sebastian did indeed plan for Aldon to remain beside him.

But then he thought of the Halfmoon pendant, and how there was a slim chance that it could detect his shadowy companion and somehow remove itself from his reach.

He didn't want to take that chance. He didn't want to take any chances.

He motioned the hat to Aldon again, and watched as he shifted back a bit, just as Sebastian expected to happen.

But Sebastian kept his resolve. He stood firm, his hand not wavering. Whether or not Aldon wanted to, he would be pulled back into the hat — if Sebastian commanded it so. Offering it to him, letting him jump in himself — this was Sebastian's way of being fair.

And Sebastian did not care too much about being fair.

A few more moments of stillness before Aldon took a step forward.

"If you run into trouble, you bring me out." A pause. Sebastian didn't say anything. "I mean it. Don't think you'd be weak for it. You wouldn't be. If those witches even show up, you — "

"Bring you out," Sebastian said, unable to keep his annoyance from coating his words. He did not like the meaningful pauses or the direction Aldon was going with this. "I know. But I'm not afraid of them."

Aldon was quiet for a moment, and Sebastian thought he was readying himself to enter the hat until Aldon said, "It's not fear that'd hold you back." Another pause, and this one made Sebastian frown. "It's not fear that'd keep you from hurting Magdalene. It's —"

Without pause, Aldon was sucked back into the hat. This time, by Sebastian's doing. His mouth pressed tightly together, Sebastian set the hat atop his head and adjusted his clothes one final time.

Sebastian Cloud would find the Halfmoon pendant, and he would bring it back to where it belonged: with him.

AN: Super long time, but I've been gone for a month. Doing everything but writing. But I'm back and I finished writing this part. I can't say I'm 100% pleased with it, but it's all I got in me right now. I'm happy to introduce new folks to you guys, though. :) Kinda refreshing, on my end (and maybe on yours too). I hope this part was enjoyable to some degree. Please feel free to leave any criticism - good or bad. I will greatly appreciate it! -comrie