Emily in Thessolan
Copyright© 2023 by FinchAgent
Chapter 16: Emily and the Solstice
Awakening in the pre-dawn light, Emily shivered with the strong sensation that she was being watched. Her eyes fluttered open to the sight of two dark shapes at the foot of her bed.
Instantly awake, Emily shot up to a sitting position, the bed linen falling about her waist. With a whoosh, she ignited a fireball in her right hand, filling the room with light. “Who’s there?”
“It’s just us, Emily,” said Talyndra, the Stoneshell fire flickering in her eyes. Beside her stood Dorian, his features etched with a serious expression.
“Am I late for the ritual?!” Emily gasped, gripping the bedsheets with her unlit hand.
“No, there is still some time before dawn,” said Dorian, making intense eye contact.
“Has there been a change of plan?” Emily asked. “Are we still meeting at the Stone Circle?”
“The plan remains the same,” replied Talyndra. “We came to talk to you about something else. Something important.”
Emily furrowed her brows. “What could be more important than the ritual to break the curse on the statues?”
Talyndra and Dorian exchanged a glance. They seemed to be wordlessly debating which of them should speak first.
“We’ve been talking,” Talyndra said at last. “Dorian and I. Comparing notes. And we’ve both noticed something too big to ignore. Something that could put us all in great danger.”
Dorian nodded, now looking at a point somewhere above Emily’s head. “We’ve done some research too. So we’re sure about it.”
“There hasn’t been much to go on,” Talyndra added. “We weren’t sure we should tell you. Spent all night arguing about it, just about. Abbess Althea said not to worry you with it. But it’s too dangerous.”
Emily frowned. “You guys are talking in circles! Just tell me what it is you have to say!” The fireball in her hand flared with her irritation. She flung it at a wall-mounted torch, illuminating the room.
Dorian drew in a deep breath. “It’s about the Nightmoss, Emily.”
Emily’s pupils shrank to pinpricks. Beneath the covers, she felt a soft tickle against her ankle. Shadows flitted through her mind, and she recalled her escape from the Shimmerwood spirits and the death of Richard.
“We’ve both seen it in action,” said Talyndra. “In Shimmerwood and beneath Tiedavon Abbey. It’s incredibly powerful, and it has a mind of its own.”
A pained expression crossed Dorian’s face. “I should have realized it sooner. When I first met you ... the Nightmoss on the cavern wall reacted to your touch. The cave where you confronted Victus was full of the stuff. You almost drowned in it! I should have checked you all over, made sure you were clean.”
Something in Dorian’s words made Emily belatedly realize that her upper body had been exposed since she’d first sat up. Blushing, she pulled the bedsheet over her chest.
“You didn’t know what we know now,” said Talyndra, looking sympathetically at Dorian. “You didn’t know what the Nightmoss was.”
“I should have,” Dorian muttered.
“W-what is it?” Emily asked, a chill running down her spine. The Bronzeband weighed heavily on her ankle.
“A powerful force,” said Talyndra, her voice flat. “Its purpose is to grow and devour. But it can only do that through certain powerful magical artifacts, artifacts that it resonates with.”
Emily used both hands to pull the bedsheets up, exposing her calves. She looked fearfully at the Bronzeband. “Get it off me!” she screamed.
At once, Dorian took the anklet in both hands and pulled. It refused to budge.
“Harder!” Emily shouted.
Dorian grunted with effort, twisting and pulling the anklet, but it remained firmly in place. Talyndra joined in, placing her hands between his and pulling with all her might, but still it refused to move. Even when Emily leaned forward and joined in the effort, the Bronzeband remained in place, as though it were permanently fused to her ankle.
After much futile straining, the three fell back, huffing and puffing. “Well that’s just great,” Emily said. “I’ve never had problems taking stuff off before!”
“I can prepare a spellbreak that might remove it,” said Dorian. “But it will take time.”
Emily frowned. Then she had an idea.
Her ankle lit up with fire, lighting the room and causing Talyndra and Dorian to stumble back, shielding their faces. “Sorry!” Emily said. “I figured this would be quicker.” She reached for her ankle and slipped the Bronzeband off. “Ha!”
Emily inspected the inside of the band, looking for telltale signs of black moss. Finding none, she shrugged and tossed it to Dorian. “I can’t see any moss there, can you?”
Dorian looked at the inside of the band, and Talyndra stood on her tiptoes to join the search. After a good five minutes, both admitted they could see no sign of the Nightmoss.
“Great, we got rid of it!” Emily cried, dropping the sheet in her excitement and then hastily picking it up again. “Nothing a little fire can’t take care of.”
Dorian frowned, placing the Bronzeband back on the bed. “I wouldn’t be so sure it’s gone,” he said. “You’ve been traveling with it for so long, there’s no doubt it’s spread from the Bronzeband by now. And if there’s even the smallest amount on you, well ... the ritual will release an immense amount of magical energy. Once the curse on the Stoneshell is lifted, it will return to its full magical potential. And the Nightmoss will be perfectly positioned to harness that.”
“Humans and their artifacts,” Talyndra scoffed. “My grandmother always told me, no good could come of binding magic to dead things, or things that never lived to begin with.”
“I think you can clearly see that I don’t have any more Nightmoss on me,” Emily said flatly. “And no, I’m not dropping this sheet again.” She cast her eyes between Dorian and Talyndra, and then at the window of her chamber, where the first light of dawn was appearing.
The night before, Althea had informed her that a portion of Stoneshell fire would be transported to the Stone Circle in preparation for the ritual. She had also made clear the importance of beginning at dawn. To abandon the course now, after all she had been through to retrieve the ingredients, was unthinkable. There would not be another chance.
“Ignis Draken warned me about the Nightmoss,” Emily said, slipping her foot back into the Bronzeband. “He told me not to give in to my shadow. He made it sound like I had some choice in the matter. And perhaps I do. The Nightmoss has been helpful before.” She felt suddenly calm. Perhaps everything Dorian and Talyndra were saying was true, but hadn’t she just burned all of the Nightmoss off the Bronzeband without a second thought? How much of a threat could it really be?
“Abbess Althea told us something like that as well,” Talyndra said. “She said that you would be able to handle it.”
Dorian shook his head. “I don’t doubt your capability, Emily, but we can’t take risks with such powerful magic. Surely you remember what it did to Richard.”
“I could hardly forget.”
At that moment, a brown-robed monk burst into the room, holding his hand over his eyes. “Miss Emily!” he cried. “The ritual is about to begin! You must hurry to the Stone Circle at once!”
Emily looked from the monk to Dorian and Talyndra’s grave expressions. The first rays of sunlight poured through her window. She made her decision.
“Stone Circle,” Emily said, leaving the monk, Dorian, and Talyndra to put out the fire in her bed.
The Stone Circle lay outside Paja Abbey, on a hilltop, where the air was cold and thin. Emily staggered forward from the Stoneshell fire in the formation’s center.
Between the stone monoliths stood statues of all shapes and sizes, all materials and descriptions. At once, Emily caught Aria’s eye, and the marble woman smiled so wide it seemed as though her face might crack. The other statues let out whoops and cries of joy at the sight of their savior.
The ritual ingredients were arrayed around the circle—the Shard of True Reflection, enlarged to a full-size mirror, was propped up against a stone monolith, and beakers of sparkling Azure Essence adorned a short plinth next to another monolith. But most spectacular of all was the Heartflame, which floated above the tops of the monoliths, aligned with the Stoneshell fire in the formation’s center, lighting and heating the circle like a miniature sun.
“We were starting to worry,” said Abbess Althea, who stood near the edge of the circle, facing away from Emily, towards the rising sun. “Let the ritual begin.”
Emily took a deep breath, in and out, trying to calm her nerves. She wanted to ask Althea about the Nightmoss, to receive some reassurance after Talyndra and Dorian had unsettled her. But Althea was already letting out the deep, melodic hum that she had told Emily would signify the start of the ritual.
“The ritual must begin at sun-up,” she had told Emily. “And once it begins, it cannot be interrupted.”
Four female monks in brown Paja robes appeared from behind the monoliths, one at each cardinal direction. In unison, they bowed to Emily. The one closest to the Shard of True Reflection lifted it, and the monks walked towards her.
Emily’s reflection smiled at her. The girl in the mirror was naked but for a few magical artifacts, as she was. Beyond that, there were several differences. Her body was hairless, and the hair on her head was tied back in a long, neat braid. Most strikingly, her skin was covered with intricate patterns, painted in glowing blue ink.
“The real must match the reflection,” Althea’s voice boomed.
Two of the monks gently took Emily’s arms and led her to a large porcelain basin full of warm, soapy water. A third monk helped her into the basin, and then all three set about washing the ash and other accumulated grime from her body. The fourth monk stood before them, holding the Shard of True Reflection steady.
The sponges the monks used were soft, but vigorously applied. “I can wash myself!” Emily protested, but her cries fell on deaf ears. “Is this really necessary?”
“The ritual has begun!” snapped Althea. “Do not interrupt it!”
Emily gulped, recalling Aria’s story of the failed ritual that brought about her curse. She took a deep breath and tried to stifle the flinches and giggles that arose as the monks continued to lather her body.
“Please hold very still,” said one of the monks, producing a large razor blade.
The other two monks held up Emily’s arms, and Emily’s eyes widened as the blade approached her armpits. The blade looked sharp enough to cut her quite badly if she made any sudden movements.
The monk shaved Emily’s armpits, and then the light hair on her arms, working quickly and methodically. She then moved on to Emily’s legs, giving her a much quicker and smoother shave than she’d ever managed herself. Finally, with a significant look at the Shard of True Reflection and an additional exhortation for Emily to keep still, she removed Emily’s pubic hair, which had grown quite thick during her time in Thessolan. As she worked, one of the other monks braided Emily’s hair.
It took every ounce of Emily’s willpower to keep still and allow the monks to continue. As their hands moved all over her body, and the razor blade removed what faint scraps of modesty had remained to her in Thessolan, she told herself that this would all be worth it, to see Aria’s smiling human face. She looked up at the Heartflame to avoid making eye contact with the monks or the statues, who she could feel watching her intently.
The monks dried Emily with tiny hand towels and then pulled her from the basin. One of their number procured a beaker of Azure Essence and dipped her hand into it. The magical substance sparkled against her skin.
With careful reference to the Shard of True Reflection, the monk began to paint Emily, tracing the patterns over her skin with a soft touch. She traced long lines down the sides of Emily’s hips and painted spirals up her legs and arms. A second monk joined in, dotting Azure Essence across Emily’s stomach and breasts. A third monk drew patterns on her back, and the fourth applied Essence to her face.
When they were done, Emily was indistinguishable from the girl who smiled back at her from the magical reflection. She was naked and shorn, her hair neatly tied back in a braid that reached the crack of her buttocks. Though her skin was covered in glowing blue runes, they did nothing to hide her absolute nudity. The Stoneshell hung from her neck, the Bronzeband encircled her ankle, and her hair tie adorned her wrist.
“Good,” said Althea, still gazing towards the sun, which had by now fully crested the mountains. “Now step into the fire.”
The monks released Emily and stood back, and she stared at the Stoneshell fire in the center of the Stone Circle. She knew that its flames would not hurt her, but while she had stepped out of a fire many times in teleportation, she had never consciously stepped into one before. Slowly, she walked forward. Her newly smooth skin rubbed against itself in a new way, and the air tickled her in new places.
The statues of Castle Elid now formed their own stone circle inside the stone circle. The men, women, gargoyles, satyrs, and fawns, hewn of marble, granite, copper, bronze, and other materials, had all joined hands and now stood as stock still as if they were non-living statues. Emily wondered how different they would look once the ritual was complete.
Abbess Althea still stood at the edge of the stone circle, looking away, but now she was chanting rapidly and moving her hands in intricate patterns. The four female monks who had cleaned and painted Emily now walked in circles around her, chanting below their breath, but it was Abbess Althea’s voice that filled her ears.
As she stepped toward the fire, she spied the faces of Dorian and Talyndra, far outside the circle. They stood with folded arms and pensive expressions. Both knew better than to interrupt an ongoing magic ritual, but Emily knew they disapproved of her decision to go ahead with it. The Bronzeband sat inert against her ankle.
But the Stoneshell was hot against her chest, glowing orange. It seemed to be pulling her toward the fire, growing stronger and more insistent the closer she came. The Azure Essence glowed against her skin, and the markings it made shifted and changed.
Emily stepped into the fire, and the whole world went white. Instantly, all was silent and still.
When the light receded, it revealed a barren, gray field under a sky the color of lead. The earth was cracked and dry, featureless for miles around, but for the occasional cloud of dust whipped up by a weak wind. The place felt burdened by an oppressive silence. There was no sign of the Stone Circle or of any of Emily’s companions. She was alone.
Looking down, she saw that her skin was faintly translucent, though the Azure Essence runes still glowed bright blue. The Stoneshell still glowed orange, warming her chest, but the Bronzeband had blackened completely.
A clinking sound broke the silence, and Emily turned to its source. Standing a dozen yards away was a person in a full set of armor, visor down so that no part of their body was visible. The knight stood with gauntleted hands resting on the pommel of a greatsword planted in the cracked earth.
The knight’s visor fixed on Emily, and they pulled the sword from the ground and began to walk towards her. The knight walked with an odd gait, almost stumbling forward on every step. Emily instinctively stepped back, inadequately shielding her body with one hand and summoning a fireball with the other.
The knight did not react to her threat, but continued walking towards her. Emily crouched low, attempting to dig her heels into the hard, dry earth.
A few feet in front of her, the knight stopped and planted the greatsword in the dirt before bringing a hand up to lift their visor.
Emily gasped, for the knight’s helmet was empty.
The knight, or rather, the suit of armor, now raised a gauntlet and pointed behind her. Emily glanced over her shoulder and saw a skeletal tree, the landscape’s sole feature. She looked back at the armor, which seemed to be leaning on the greatsword for support.
“Do you ... want me to follow you?” Emily asked, her voice high and strange in this silent place.
The armor said nothing, but removed its sword from the earth and began to walk in the direction it had pointed. Emily took that for a yes and fell into step behind the strange being.
The armor walked jauntily, at a slow pace, clinking with every step, occasionally planting its sword down in the ground to rest. Emily felt a little sorry for it—this was no murderous knight, but a simple creature in an ill-functioning body. The greatsword, which might have seemed menacing in other hands, was little more than a walking stick.
So focused was Emily on the strange creature’s plight that she did not immediately notice the shifts in the world around her. As they approached the skeletal tree, the earth softened and the air grew warmer. Even the sky seemed to lighten. Almost imperceptibly at first, green shoots began to appear around them, and soon Emily’s nostrils were full of the smell of wildflowers.
The tree itself, which had looked so pathetic and broken when the armor had first pointed it out, had transformed into a living cherry tree in full and magnificent bloom, its petals drifting around them on the gentle breeze.
Beneath the tree, on a simple stone bench, sat a woman. She faced away from them, looking out over an enormous, calm, and deep blue ocean that stretched to the horizon. She had straight dark hair and wore a simple black gown.
The suit of armor suddenly stopped, planting its sword firmly in the verdant grass. Emily got the sense that it would walk no further, and so took the last few steps alone, stopping just behind the woman on the bench, who seemed not to have noticed either of them.
Emily was wondering how she should address the woman when, apropos of nothing, she stood and turned to Emily. Though her hair was pure black, her face was lined with age. Her eyes were hazel, the same shade as Emily’s, and around her neck she wore a silver chain with a gray stone pendant in the shape of a seashell.
“Evangeline,” Emily said.
The woman smiled kindly and nodded. “Emily. We meet at last.” With this, she walked around the bench, arms raised, and wrapped Emily in a warm hug, the fibres of her gown soft against Emily’s skin. Emily let herself fall into the hug.
They separated, and Evangeline looked Emily up and down. “You have come a long way and faced much hardship.”
“Uh, yes,” Emily said lamely, remembering that she was naked and vaguely moving her arms in front of her body.
“Do not be ashamed,” Evangeline said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We cannot control how we appear in this place.”
Emily bit her lip. That was easy for someone in a dress to say. Nevertheless, she steeled herself. There was so much she wanted to ask Evangeline. “W-what is this place?” is the question she started with.
“This is the spirit realm, a place between life and death. We have been summoned here—I from the land of the dead, and you from the world of the living—because of the powerful spell you are performing. A spell that will undo the bonds upon the Stoneshell.” There was a slight note of disapproval in Evangeline’s voice.
“I just want to save the statues,” said Emily.
Evangeline nodded. “It is a noble goal. But the curses placed upon the necklace were needed to contain its chaotic energy, to prevent it from consuming the world as it consumed me.”
Emily’s face paled. “What?!”
A sad smile crossed Evangeline’s face. She glanced down at Emily’s ankle. “I see you have become acquainted with the Nightmoss.”
Emily followed her gaze. When she’d first arrived in the spirit realm, the Bronzeband had been blackened with Nightmoss. It was now entirely obscured, as Emily’s entire calf was coated with the fuzzy, writhing substance. She had not succeeded in destroying it that morning—Dorian and Talyndra had been right.
“It was inevitable that you would,” said Evangeline. “Once, Nightmoss grew only in the Trench of Trule, deep beneath the ocean. A small quantity clung to the stone that my Thurseus extracted to forge the Stoneshell. At those depths, under that immense pressure, the moss is quite harmless. Thurseus’s mistake was imbuing it with magic. And my mistake was exposing it to the air.”
Emily dropped into a crouch and began frantically tearing at the black coating around her calf. When it wouldn’t budge, she summoned flames into her hands and tried to burn it off. The moss turned from black to orange and melted away, revealing a pale calf, the Azure Essence patterns gone.
“Oh, you can burn it off,” Evangeline said. “But no matter how much you destroy, some always remains. It always grows back.”
Looking up at Evangeline, Emily noticed for the first time that her gown was of the same color and consistency as the black moss.
“Yes,” Evangeline said, picking at a sleeve, “this is also Nightmoss. Terribly useful when you’re always burning clothes. The only trouble is that it doesn’t stop spreading. In the world of the living, at least. And the more powerful the Stoneshell is, the faster it spreads.”
Emily felt sick.
“I must apologize, Emily,” Evangeline said. “I tried to eradicate it, I really did. Once I realized what a menace it was, I spent years retracing my steps through all of Thessolan, destroying the Nightmoss that I had so carelessly planted. After that, I spent even more years binding the Stoneshell, channeling wards through it to constrain its power. But I was never very good at that, and they would always wear off. And clearly I left some of the Nightmoss alive.”
“W-what do we do now?” Emily asked.
Evangeline shrugged. “There’s nothing we can do. The spell is in motion and cannot be interrupted. Any moment now, it will be complete. You will return to the world of the living, and I to the land of the dead. The Nightmoss will be unleashed, and all of Thessolan will be consumed.”
Emily stared at her in disbelief. “Why didn’t Abbess Althea warn me?”
“Much has been lost in the centuries since I died,” Evangeline said. “Your abbeys pride themselves on their traditions and their libraries, but I have forgotten more magic than they ever knew.”
“They’re not my abbeys! I’m not even from here!” Emily screamed, surprising even herself with her sudden outburst. The emotionless, almost flippant tone that Evangeline had used to turn everything she thought she’d known about Thessolan upside-down was too much to bear. “I didn’t ask for any of this! I just wanted to help! I just wanted ... to go home...”
Emily fell to her knees, her body racked with sobs. Tears blurred her vision. How could all of her sacrifices, her selfless intentions, have led to such a horrific outcome?
A gentle hand touched her back, and Emily looked up at Evangeline through puffy eyes. “I had forgotten that you were from ... somewhere else,” she said. “That changes things. The world you come from is radically different from Thessolan—magic does not exist there. If you can return to that world, taking the Stoneshell with you, that may be enough to sever the link and render the Nightmoss inert.”
Go home? The thought was at once painful and comforting. That had been her mission since she stepped out of the bathtub in Castle Elid, the very reason she’d braved the Labyrinthine Pool and then embarked on her journey with Aria. But Thessolan had changed her. She had tasted power and a destiny far greater than anything awaiting her in Greenville. To abandon all that...
“I don’t know how,” said Emily.
Evangeline smiled. “That you came to Thessolan at all shows that there exists a bridge between worlds. This place where we now stand bridges the far greater gap between the living and the dead. To find a bridge between the living and the living ... I am certain you will succeed.”
A loud metallic clatter sounded behind them. Emily turned to see the suit of armor lying in a jumbled heap, the greatsword fallen on top of it.
“The spell is near completion,” said Evangeline, kneeling to grasp Emily’s hands. “Soon, the Stoneshell will be unbound. Goodbye, Emily Stoneshell Bearer.”
The world around them flicked violently between verdant green and barren gray. The ocean disappeared, and the cherry tree returned to a skeletal outline. Evangline herself began to fade. She squeezed Emily’s hands and then was gone.
Emily opened her eyes to the Stone Circle. The Stoneshell fire had gone out, and she stood on a pile of ashes. But this Emily barely noticed, for all around her the statues of Castle Elid were glowing. The air was filled with loud snapping sounds as cracks spiderwebbed across the forms of the statues. Directly ahead of her, Emily saw Aria’s beaming face, just as it broke in half.
The marble fell away from her, leaving a tall, elegant young woman with blue eyes and golden hair, draped in a flowing white gown. She touched her face with shaking hands, and tears began to stream from her eyes. “I can feel!” she whispered, her voice hoarse and throaty.
All around her, the other statues were shaking themselves off, staring at their skin and clothes, and beaming with immense joy. Brom let out a hearty laugh, the sunlight glinting off his red beard. Jivaro jumped in the air and danced a little jig—he had grown a foot taller and was almost handsome.
The monks cheered, and even Talyndra and Dorian joined in with whoops of joy. Althea turned to face the Stone Circle, smiling serenely. “The ritual is completed. The prophecy is fulfilled.”
“You did it, Emily!” said Aria, hurrying towards her. “When I saw you break down and cry, I was afraid ... and that black stuff, crawling up your leg ... but you fought! You completed the ritual! I ... I can’t tell you what it means to me...”
Emily received Aria’s hug gratefully, burying her face in the soft fabric of her gown and feeling for the first time the warmth of her body and the beat of her heart.
Aria separated from Emily, looking her up and down. “The ritual’s magic seems to have ... used up all the Azure Essence.”
Emily glanced at her skin, which was indeed free of Azure Essence. And any other kind of covering. The Nightmoss was nowhere to be seen or felt. Did that mean ... could that mean that Evangeline had been wrong?
“Don’t worry, I remember my promise,” said Aria, winking.
Taking the folds of her gown in her hands, Aria pulled it up and over her head in a single flourish and presented it to Emily. She was not wearing anything underneath it.
“Aria, I couldn’t.”
“A promise is a promise,” Aria insisted, even as her cheeks reddened. “Let me ... enjoy the air on my skin. It’s been a few hundred years.”
Somewhat reluctantly, Emily took the gown and pulled it over her own head. It was too long for her, but it felt good to wear something, although she couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. Aria was putting a brave face on it, but she couldn’t have been comfortable with so many people looking at them. Emily, of all people, knew that.
“At last, fair Aria sheds her stone!” sang Jivaro. “All Thessolan has waited centuries to admire her skin, alabaster no longer!”
“Thank you, Aria,” Emily said. She thought back to her arrival in Thessolan, standing naked and dripping in the hall of living statues. Aria had promised to give Emily her gown then, in return for retrieving the Stoneshell from the Labyrinthine Pool, and, implicitly, for breaking the statue curse. It hadn’t been quite as simple as that, of course, but now her quest was complete, and she had her reward.
“Let’s get you both inside,” said Dorian, attempting to shield Aria with his body as he maintained eye contact with Emily. He smiled. “It seems that the worst has not come to pass.”
At that moment, Emily burst into flame.
“Ah!” Aria screamed, jumping back as she felt the long-forgotten heat of the fire against her skin.