Flies covered every inch of what remained of the dishes on the floor. Writhing incessantly, the resulting maggots turned Adrian’s stomach.
They were eating her food.
His foot tapped the nearest plate. Numerous flies, now disturbed, flew about Adrian and he batted them away. In doing so, he caught a glimpse of the figure on the bed. He hadn’t wanted to see her.
He hadn’t wanted to accept it.
Dropping the plate in his hand, he slammed the door closed. The plate shattered in the room and he smothered his ears in his palms. All that buzzing. There was so much buzzing.
“Leave her alone,” he whispered. He said this over and over again. “Just leave my mom alone.”
Another fly droned past his ear. He slapped it against the door in a rage, forcing the hinges to creak backward and reveal Elizabeth’s rotten form once more. Then, the door was pulled close, and Adrian felt arms pull him into an embrace.
Adrian Giarmund began to cry.
“Are you ready to accept the truth now?”
Her voice was everything one needed it to be. Comfort personified, motherly, sometimes sultry. Silken.
“She’s dead,” Adrian squeaked out through a hiccup. “My momma’s dead.”
“She is,” said the woman. “She has been for a long time now.”
Taking his small shoulders in her palms, the woman gently pushed Adrian away from her. She remained on one knee. Rather tall for her gender, she was lanky, thin—skeletal, even—with a black braid that laid within the crook of one of her shoulders.
The maddening white glow within her eyes always stood out to him.
“Dry your eyes, and let us put Elizabeth to rest.” She said, standing but pausing when Adrian tugged on her wrist.
“Will you tell me your name now?” He asked.
“You may call me Marrow, little Giarmund.”
With his hand in hers, Marrow opened the door.
The last time he had seen Marrow was when she bequeathed the mask to him. That was months after his father had died, and her last words to him were barely anything to take home, only hinting that the “God of Many Faces” had penned a new chapter.
Anyone with half a brain would know what she had been. A messenger. When described, Meredith had called her a cultist and a groomer. She had come to evaluate him when he was still a child. No one else had seen her other than him.
Everyone just assumed he had buried his mother by himself.
Upon his waking, Adrian tested his binds. They were shackles now, which meant Alessa—Corvus—had finally wizened up. His brain pounded against his skull with each movement he made. Between the alcohol withdrawals and whatever hellish toxin they were pumping into his veins, Adrian was sluggish and weak. Even if he was still bound by rope he probably wouldn’t have the dexterity to undo them again.
Not to mention the insane number of traps Corvus had set about the home following his first attempt at escape. Magic circles and other bullshit he couldn’t see without the mask.
It was just as well that Marrow would finally appear in one of the horrible little dreams he was having. The drink usually put him out, but without it, and with whatever shit Corvus had concocted, he had seen Elizabeth more times than he ever wanted to. Why he would finally breach through it all to finally see the one light he ever had, Adrian didn’t know.
Something did feel different. In the air, maybe, a change, like the wind shifting, or a storm approaching.
Perhaps someone had finally come for him.
Sighing, Adrian closed his eyes. Tiring himself out wasn’t going to help matters.
From outside the room, Corvus peered in then left. The man was finally settling down without them needing to dose him further. They did, of course, have a few new concoctions to try, but for now they would let Adrian get some much needed rest. It would do no good to experiment on a man that was hardly lucid.
As they returned to the front of the house, intent on leaving for a few items of interest, they paused when Vos’iin entered through the door. The glamor they put on him still unsettled them.
“Are you heading out?” Vos’iin asked them.
“Yes,” said Corvus. “Why?”
“There’s an elf in town I have an interest in.”
Corvus wanted to laugh. Again. Gods, this elf was ridiculous. Is that why he asked them to place a glamor? How juvenile.
“Okay,” they sighed, “and what does my leaving have to do with them?”
“I heard her mention the lich under her breath, as if she were speaking with someone. She just appeared in town. Can you feel her out?”
Corvus gave him a dark look. Now that was interesting.
“Lead the way,” said Corvus.
* * *
The elf in question was entirely unremarkable. She was damned cute, sure, but Corvus felt nothing on her. Absolutely nothing. It was almost negative. They knew things were weird with the elven domain these days, but if this “Valenne” elf had no magical inclination whatsoever that was strange in and of itself.
Corvus stared at Valenne from a table nearby. They were outside an establishment of sorts, and their target was absentmindedly picking at an entirely untouched plate of squash. It actually looked pretty good for this simpleton town, though Corvus wouldn’t ask her if she was going to eat it.
They were tired enough not to want to continue watching this female elf do fuck all. She had been sitting for a while now, the food was cold, and so far Valenne had not spoken up about anything at all.
Corvus pushed their chair back just as a boy of ten or so years came bounding joyfully towards the elf. Another child, maybe his sibling, came up shyly behind him.
“Magic elf lady! Can you show my sis that trick you did?”
Corvus stayed put.
Valenne agreed to give them a show. When the elf summoned flames between her fingers and morphed it into a perfect spinning ring Corvus felt their jaw drop.
“What. The. Fuck.” They managed to state this quietly enough, but the impossibility that was Valenne using magic without touching the lines gave the sorcerer pause. The kids started clapping. Corvus held their head in their hand.
How had she done that? If she was using a source then they still would have felt something. Maybe what they needed was a drink. Surely, all that time spent huffing the fumes of their own chemicals had simply fried their senses. Corvus got up then, meeting the disguised Vos’iin nearby.
“A mage, but I couldn’t tell you how.” Corvus told him. “She never looked at me. I know for a fact that Cromwell got a good look at me, so I doubt she’s with him. Maybe she was just talking to herself.”
“I see,” mumbled Vos’iin. He peered around the corner of the alleyway to get another glance at the elf. The children were dragging her off somewhere. He found it strange that the female child was given the elf’s food and happily eating it as they walked along. While he had seen her drink mead, not once since meeting her had he observed her eating or drinking regularly.
He turned back towards Corvus and said, “that one belongs to me.”
Corvus narrowed their eyes.
“Do not replicate what you did with that woman, I swear—“
“You swear what? I have no intention of killing her.” He hissed.
Sighing aloud, Corvus walked off. If he wanted a pet and it would please him then they would allow it. Anything to keep the fragile peace between them. As they walked along they heard their familiar meow softly, and turned just in time to see a raven fly off towards where Valenne had gone.
Following this, their familiar jumped onto their shoulders, and Corvus got to thinking. Nothing made sense about what they had seen.
Something was off about that elf.