Sylvester & Tuette: Cursed Doubt

Chapter Five

Tuette awoke. It was midnight or somewhere close. She could not tell; the moon was not visible from this vantage in her home.


It was an optimal time for the sorceress; without sunlight, she could wander about freely, not having to worry about covering each strand of hair on her head and body. As such, there was not an hour of day that went by in which she verbally cursed her Cursing mentor.


She hated wearing the hoods and shawls and general head dressings: they itched something horrible most of the time, especially when she was exerting herself.


Feeling well-rested once more, she took a deep breath and nearly gagged. The stench of burning leaves and wood still clung to her clothing and most likely had latched onto her bedclothes. She would have to Wash it out. She was thankful to be perched on the edge of a lake for more than once in her traveling life.


Lifting herself from the surface of the bed, Tuette stood, stretching her muscles, allowing various joints to pop like a soft fire, ever mindful that the floorboards were still damp from the lake water. She removed the bedclothes, leaving the makeshift mattress bare, and proceeded towards the door.


Running her hand over the thick nail head in the center of the door, she noted its coolness which was the telltale sign that no humans were nearby. It was merely another Charm that she had procured from her teacher that she currently was thankful to have retained.


But the Charm was not perfect: it could only tell if a human body was nearby. It was useless near a cemetery or any burial grounds as it tended to always remain warm, glowing red, as if threatening to burn the door from its plastered frame. Tuette knew that such an action would not occur but she didn’t like taking chances. She liked her privacy.


Unlatching the door, Tuette exited her swan-shaped home that had aided her unduly for four years. The full face of Estella gracing the sky, allowing for several points of starlight to compliment it nicely. She would have plenty of light to work by.


Tuette dropped the bedclothes onto the ground, went around to the rear of her home to open a secured hatch there, and retrieved a wooden basin that was large enough to wash a small child within.


She walked to the edge of the lake, dipped the basin into the water partially, and then set the now-heavier item onto the sand. Tuette picked up a fist of sand in one hand and pulled her worn Washing Stone out with the other. In the moonlight, Tuette could see that the Stone was bordering on useless, developing cracks and waning in its luster. It would take a full eleven days, skipping the fourth, to charm a new Washing Stone. She was confident in her wardrobe’s ability to hold out for long periods of time without being Washed. Tuette knew she would fashion such a Stone when morning came; it required the light of dawn anyway.


Putting both hands together over the subtly filled basin, Tuette rubbed the sand over the Washing Stone and watched as sand particles fell into the confined water, glowing whitely with their now-Charmed Washing Powder properties. She located a piece of driftwood nearby to stir the water; using her hand would have bleached her skin whereas washing the bedclothes first would dilute the Washing Powder and let her cleanse her skin and clothing all at once later.


Tuette deposited the bedclothes into the basin, knowing that the Washing Powder would go to work immediately. She poked the cloth beneath the surface of the water entirely before standing up and surveying the area, pocketing the Washing Stone in the process. The light from the basin dimmed some due to the bedclothes but Tuette still had the bright moonlight, doubly so as the undisturbed surface of the lake crafted a mirrored visage.


She wondered distantly if Estella ever grew tired of looking at herself over such bodies of water.


Letting the wonder wander, Tuette looked towards her swan-home and the forest around it. In the dark, she could easily spy where the belcarotia had burned out an even darker patch of forestry, just behind and to the right of Tuette’s home. The forest to the left of the dwelling had no blemishes and Tuette was thankful for that much at least: she had always enjoyed the beauty of a serenely planted wood. Her trek through that forest on the previous day – just before the belcarotia attack at least – had been pleasant enough.


Tuette’s mind drifted then to the three Mages that she had seen in the forest; the ones that had been burning that large mound of flame-feeding material and risking the eventual summoning of the fire-spreading beast. Why were they doing it? Being Mages, they should’ve known the dangers of harvesting such a Potent flame, shouldn’t they?


Perhaps they weren’t Mages. Perhaps their rucksacks were stolen and they were playing with Magik recklessly. But what of the woman who thanked her and then vanished? Tuette did not know. Her knowledge of the belcarotia was limited, as was that of the people in this area, but at least she knew how not to encounter such a dangerous beast.


It was information culled from her now-despised teacher.


Tuette didn’t like focusing on her mentor but couldn’t help it sometimes. Her current Curse and life-situation was entirely because of that hateful man. She sometimes fancied ideas of going back to him under the guise of begging forgiveness and securing his demise instead. But she knew that was pointless: he was too well guarded by aspects of Magik that Tuette herself aspired for. At least not by herself. But no other Magical will give me the time of day.


She silently vowed with each passing day that she would Reverse her Curse though and Corunny Voidet would suffer for his impetuous action against herself.


Tuette let those thoughts drift away with hefty breaths. She knew that focusing upon that avenue of action wasn’t helpful if it was constant.


And now it would be several months before she had a new Freezing Pote. Tuette clenched her teeth at the lost Pote but again breathed the subtle regret away because she knew that in the long run, she was thankful for the situation. For one thing, she was wholly confident that she could make another Freezing Pote that was as equally effective and it had saved her swan-shaped home. Though it was impervious to the casual torchings and the like, she had no doubt that the belcarotia could have demolished her house with its projectiles of flame.


Yes, she knew she had done the right thing in saving her house by Freezing the creature’s embers. And the months, she felt, might pass by more quickly than she anticipated. This time…


The basin of water, Washing Powder, and bedclothes began to bubble vociferously then, indicating that no more sods of dirt or grime were left to cleanse. She reached her hand into the water, knowing that her skin would be fine now that the Powder had been dimmed somewhat. Wringing out the cloths, Tuette silently wished for the knowledge that would allow her to not have to exert so much force when performing such a task.


After coaxing as much water as possible from the bedclothes, she brought the damp cloth into her home. Tuette then spread the bedclothes on the ground, leaving little space to walk. Skirting the edge of the clean cloth, she reached into a drawer and retrieved a smaller, waterproof slip of thin leather which was wrapped around yet another Stone. This was a Dehydrating Stone or sometimes called a Dehydro Stone.


Fashioned in a time when the Charmer is parched entirely of thirst, the frantic properties of the dry mouth are applied to a simple rock, along with some minor chanting and, oddly enough, a large amount of salty water. Tuette had not enjoyed the time it took to craft such a Stone but was thankful that it took less time and required not as much delicate handling to craft it, unlike the Washing Stone and its casual eleven-day commitment.


Tuette took the Dehydrating Stone and placed it in the center of the wet blanket. She did not worry about the blanket getting the flooring beneath it wet; the Dehydro Stone would dry that as well. In time, such a Stone could absorb the moisture from an excitingly large area as long as the Stone was either large enough or the area not that damp. A Dehydrating Stone, like a Washing Stone, had a lifespan. This particular Dehydro Stone, Tuette knew, had a lot of time left to its use; it could still absorb a great deal of water.


And besides, Tuette knew that she could finally get her still-damp flooring dry before dawn; the stench of the lake water swallowed by the swan would become absent after that. In time.


Grabbing a new garment complete with lengthy sleeves and an adequate hood, Tuette exited again, stripped down, and cast her robes and shawl into the basin. She knew it would be a while before the water bubbled due to the Potency being diminished. She threw splashes of the water against her skin, gently massaging the conservative layer of cleaning wetness in. The night air seemed to chill though she knew it was just the wetness forcing her to become more aware of it; moisture tended to possess such observatory properties that made it perfect for cleansing.


Tuette put on the new garment, knowing that no one was watching – she spied the colorless doornail before even disrobing – and garbed herself again, thankful for the thicker fabric as the chilly lakeside air had finally coerced a shiver from her.


Rubbing warmth through the sleeves into her arms, Tuette walked behind her home. It was slightly warmer but only because of the lingering effects of the forest fire. Also, it smelled awful. Tuette wondered if the stench was due to crisped vegetation or, Valtos forbid, a stray beast had been engulfed by the flames.


Tuette also wondered if the stench was any of the three young Mages that had been crisped with such ease. Had the bodies died instantly? Tuette could not recall but placed in her mind the image of one, two, or even all three Mages flailing about, sending swears to the skies above while flaming from head to toe. The belcarotia wandered listlessly around them, smiling that faint flicker-grin it possessed. Tuette shivered at the imagined scene.


She was mindful that it had not occurred that way; she knew they had died almost instantaneously. She also felt that the manufactured memory should somehow stay with her, reminding her that her very presence was what probably brought about the turn of events.


Tuette was Cursed after all.


Shaking those thoughts away as well, Tuette stepped onto the blazed-away path of the forest, feeling the crunches beneath her soles. It reminded her of the times when she traveled in the northern snowy patches of Whismerl, when she had first started her Apprenticeship.


Just after leaving home.


Tuette, with a twinge of regret, missed her early life just then. Time with her small family and friends and fellow residents of New Opal had been good for Tuette while growing up. They had been stable some times and adventurous others. She had had a marked future back then.


With remembrance, Tuette thought of times when she took small treks through the rocky outcroppings just west of New Opal. They were the tapered remains of the Selenqual Range that ended – some conjectured began – with Mount Reign. As New Opal was almost nearly at the base of the throne of the king, the large town was always relegated to provide for Fyse Castle what could not be readily crafted by the residents of the mountain.


Namely, New Opal provided shoes to the crown. And Tuette’s father had been the managerial body behind the family-owned business that created those shoes. They were the best of the region, if not of Decennia entirely, and everyone knew it. But Tuette wanted no part of that business. She had learned of Magik, despite the minimal impact it had on her own young day-to-day life. Tuette recognized early on Magik how could be compounded for greater effects and prove more beneficial than the simple cleaning agents and healing liquids that were generally marketed in some regions.


It was during once such remembered trek that Tuette had told her father that she would not be entering into the shoe business. It was then that her father told her that service to the crown could not be denied. She continued to state her own purposes for the kind of future she wished to lead. He concluded with forcing her into a shaming exile. “If you will not follow your blood born path, you will have to seek out a new one. Away from New Opal,” he said with no expression on his face but contempt.


Tuette’s mother did nothing to ease the situation which only angered Tuette more. She could not help but hold the betrayal deep inside. She decided that she could not trust her family then or the crown that forced such labors. Not even —


There was a crack then that halted Tuette’s bitter remembrance. A snapping branch as if under the weight of someone’s foot. Tuette’s mind flittered to the mysterious woman from the day before and she instantly grew afraid as she knew nothing of what the woman intended with Tuette. She had given thanks for something unspecified and left. Still, Tuette could not deny the fear.


There was another snapping of twig: soft but closer. Tuette did a mental survey of her current possessions: she had her thick robe and the Washing Stone that she had transferred from the other rankled dress. She was away from the Charmed seeds that she always littered to perform a crude perimeter of passive defense; it would do little to stop harm anyway. The seeds planted commonly enjoyed images, like instantly recalled yet faded memories, in the forefront of anyone’s mind. Swans were greatly used in the images so that when someone stumbled across Tuette’s home, they would not be so alarmed as to want to destroy it or even investigate the unique structure.


Other than the length of driftwood that she had decided to carry as means of a guiding stick through the darkened wood, she had nothing else of use on her. Tuette silently swore at herself for being so careless as to begin a nighttime trek without anything more than a Charmed Stone, a stick, and her fading wits.


“There is no cause for alarm, sorceress.” Despite the assuring tone of the feminine voice and the message it conveyed, Tuette couldn’t help but feel her level of alarm heighten; sinister perpetrators tended to adopt reassuring guises.


Though she was not skilled in wielding many weapons, Tuette hefted the driftwood with both hands. The weight was light, the surface smooth, the shape slightly irregular: it curved outwards. It would be of little defensive use.


She knew there were Spells or chants that could assist in Charming the stick with helpful energy but she didn’t know what any of those Magik rituals were. Tuette thought she might try but such an attempt might prove as ailing to her as she wished it to be towards her Potential attacker.


The voice in the night then called out, much closer, to Tuette’s right. “Sorceress, I only wish…”


She swung her stick in that direction, striking a tree and dropping the stick; the vibrating wood was too much for her hands to manipulate.


The woman stepped out of the shadowy forest to the left, causing Tuette’s heart to pick up a quicker pace. The thumping of blood in her ears nearly threatened to drown out anything the stranger might have to say. Tuette was ready to charge the body with her own.


If I can rush the woman into that tree, I might knock the wind from her, giving me time to run back and find something more powerful to wield —


“Madam Sorceress,” she said with arms held in front of her but with the backs of her hands facing Tuette, implying she had no malice behind the Potentially disarming stance.


Tuette witnessed the act and immediately slackened her position. This strange woman knew the honorable form of acknowledgement amongst strange but friendly Magikals. Tuette could also see there were no bracings or wristlets upon the woman’s arms, another aspect of the greeting: this woman was as equally as powerless as Tuette was.


On the surface at least.


“Who are you?” Tuette asked without preamble.


“My name is Fy’tay om Yett, resident ta of Zharinna, which is to the immediate west.”


Tuette relaxed a bit more; she knew a ta to be a trained Magikal, almost always practicing the healing properties of Magik. “Ta Fy’tay, how is the night?” Tuette asked, knowing that her voice still carried the tremble that served as portent of her very recent fear.


“I am well, as is this night. And yourself, Madam Sorceress? How are you?”


Tuette realized she had not given her name. “I am Tuette, Lady Ta. Apart from the fear you generated inside me, I am good. Just washing a garment next to the lake.” She paused then, applying an ear towards the body of water, listening to see if the basin was bubbling yet. She didn’t want the Washing Powder to attack yet another of her robes as that tended to happen if left alone for too long. She continued then, refocusing on Fy’tay, noting that the ta had not moved. “And checking the area. I’m new. And don’t like surprises.”


Fy’tay smiled. “So I see.” She then took a slow step forward, entering fully into the blazed-away path. Tuette absently thought of the idea of using belcarotia to burn clean the clustered and overgrown parts of the Nementor Paths. But she assumed the beasts could not be tamed to perform as such and let the idea drift away. Fy’tay said “Tuette what? Just Tuette? No title or… area of expertise? No family name?”


Tuette grimaced. As Fy’tay had been upfront with title and stance, she had expected Tuette to compliment the social gesture. But Tuette could honestly give very little. She was at a point in her life where she could not remember her own family’s name, just a general impression of consonants. She had gone by “just Tuette” for so long – fours years alone while Cursed and she could not unerringly recall when she was banished before that – that it hardly seemed to matter what it was. She did have a title though; technically, at least.


She responded finally. “Yes, just Tuette, Apprentice.” In principle, she was but a mere Apprentice though she gathered that she knew a deal more than common Apprentices of the day. Tuette had garnered the information mostly on her own though, in the quartet of years she had spent Charming her way from place to place, both literally and figuratively: it took quite a bit of charisma for an established community to welcome an outsider. Especially in these ambiguous times.


“Ah, an Apprentice.” Fy’tay frowned slightly, a movement only detected by the reflection of Estella on her pronounced cheekbones. “Traveling alone? Where is your teacher, young Apprentice?” she asked while clasping her own hands and tilting her head to the side. She sounded as if she were talking to an infant. Or a figgy pup.


Tuette suppressed a shout of anger. This ta had expressed caution in approaching Tuette but now that she learned she was but a “mere Apprentice” and “just Tuette”, she felt she could dominate the Cursed woman.


Cursed. This woman, a confessed Magikal, did not yet know that Tuette was Cursed. There was still hope for her concerning the notion of taking refuge in Zharinna. She decided it was as good a place as any as Tuette recalled Zharinna to only be a day’s hike from Opal, the seminally abandoned grounds of her own ancestors, before they had all moved to where New Opal was now, on the other side of Mount Reign.


She lost perspective for a moment when she realized how close her home was just now. The other side of the mountain. Tuette didn’t have to look back to know it was less than a week away. A short hike when a new life was that much closer.


But she knew she could not have that life. Tuette knew she could not even entertain the notion because Cursed as she was, the citizens of New Opal would never accept her. Even if she apologized to her father and was forgiven wholly. Even if she gave up the life she had been aspiring for.


No, she knew that she had to first enable the Curse Reverse before she could even tickle her mind with fancies of returning to that other existence; that available life.


Giving Fy’tay her complete attention again, Tuette crossed her arms before she answered, mirroring the Ta’s own tilted head. She decided to not let as much sarcasm drip into her remark because she knew she somewhat needed this woman’s knowledge of the area. And if she could help Tuette gain acceptance with the other Zharinnans, then all the better.


“My teacher recently demonstrated some knowledge of lofty Curses. They scared me somewhat because I know that Curses are dangerous.” It was not that far from the truth, she decided, but the crucial element was that the Ta believed it.


Fy’tay pursed her lips, lowered her eyelids gently and nodded, unfolding her arms in the process.


Bubbling was heard in the distance and Tuette looked back, starting to move in that direction. She heard Fy’tay behind her, the distinctive crunching of frozen embers resoundingly doubly as a result. Once they left the frozen path, Fy’tay remarked “That was a fairly powerful Pote you used back there.”


Tuette kept her smile hidden. She knew it had been powerful but acknowledgement from another wielder of Magik made her feel that much more secure about her abilities. “Yes, it took a couple months to craft wholly. With the help of a friend. By myself, it’ll probably demand three or four months to manufacture.”


“More people helping with the process means less time for the crafting?” the ta asked once Tuette reached the bubbling basin. She reached in, letting the bubbles tickle her hand gently. Pulling out the robe and beginning to wring out the water, Tuette frowned inwardly: should a ta not already know that the more people that contributed to crafting a Pote meant less time was required?


“Uh, yeah, more people, less… time, that sort of… thing” Tuette said while coaxing the water from the garment. “Didn’t you say you were a, ah, ta?”


Fy’tay smiled then, letting a slight laugh escape through her teeth like beaten prisoners through broken bars: it landed clumsily on Tuette’s ears, making her concern rise up again. “I am a ta that specializes in healing meditations and herbal husbandry. I know almost nothing of medicinal liquids except that water should be ingested with almost all pain relieving herbs. Or a nice shot of Gryden stiff.” She smiled again. The explanation put Tuette at ease though not entirely.


Glancing over Ta om Yett’s shoulder, Tuette spied the telltale doornail. It was not muted anymore but was a subtle blue which contrasted nicely with the darkwood door and the now-cloud covered moon: there was definitely only one human nearby.


Fy’tay must have noticed the glance even in the waning light for she turned and looked as well. When she noticed what Tuette was looking at, she turned wholly and began to walk towards the door of Tuette’s swan as if in interest.


Panic at the woman wanting to possibly enter Tuette’s home filled the Cursed sorceress. What was she doing? To stop the woman, Tuette thought only of what had already occurred between the pair, including the day before.


“Why did you thank me?”


That stopped the ta in her tracks. She wheeled around swiftly, letting Tuette see that her own robe was contrastingly thin in material: the better to act quickly in.


But Fy’tay  wore something else on her face, as if panged. Tuette, for reasons unknown, felt certain regret over mentioning it.


“My thanks upon yesterday, dear apprentice,” she began, slowly stepping back towards Tuette, “was because you saved Zharinna from that forest fire.”


“But those Mages died in the process. If I hadn’t…”


“If you hadn’t what? Are you saying you killed them? That they weren’t merely trapped by the fire that scorched them?”


Tuette wasn’t sure how to proceed because by the speech of the ta, she also knew nothing of belcarotia. Which might explain why the Mages didn’t know about them either. Tuette had a choice to make then: she could reveal to Fy’tay and possibly all of this more-than-likely Magikal community about a threat deadly enough to caution others against or she could leave the ta in the dark and risk something even more terrible happening to Zharinna in the future.


As a sorceress, she was bound to an unwritten law pertaining to aiding other Magikals in the quest for greater knowledge and awareness. As a Cursed creature, revealing the truth heap might cause that knowledge to fall into the wrong hands, crafting a Potential villain who could use the unpredictable power of a belcarotia for the sake of their own agenda.


Coughing once and noticing that she was as parched as her Dehydro Stone, Tuette realized that she had not had a drink of anything in a long while. The previous mention of Gryden stiff made her mouth water slightly. One might come in a bit – maybe even a sip of her rare uulota’o – but now she had to do what was noble.


She inhaled deeply before exhaling the awaited answer. “The Mages were killed by more than just fire. They were pierced by expansion bolts cast from a belcarotia. Their veins were most likely boiled out by the effect of the beast. A belcarotia only comes forward when a fire is hot enough and concentrated in a single area, much like with what the Mages were doing: they were burning a mound of a size that the smoky creatures most likely yearn for.” Tuette took a breath, finding herself unable to gauge the woman’s reaction to her explanation. “So it was a belcarotia that took the Mages. They were careless or might’ve been summoning one on purpose with hopes of controlling it. I don’t know.” A thought came to her. “I’m sorry if one or all of them were known. What I mean to say, eh, is that if you lost a loved one - in the fire - then I’m sorry.”


“And this bella-core-shee-a, it killed those men and then came after you, and your home?” she asked while gesturing behind herself towards Tuette’s swan, noticeably ignoring Tuette’s addendum of sympathies.


Tuette nodded. “Uh, it’s a belcarotia, though. Pronounced bell-ka-ROASH-ia. But yes, that’s what happened. Again, I’m sorry...”


She let her voice taper as Fy’tay glanced away as if thinking of something important. The clouds decided to stop hiding away Estella, allowing Tuette to see Fy’tay’s eyes soften considerably. The ta stepped forward quickly, grasping Tuette’s shoulders and smiling appreciatively.


“Oh, young Tuette, I already know as much!”


Tuette felt confusion and a jolt of fear again. What was happening? “What’re you talking about?” Tuette asked frantically.


Fy’tay backed away, almost giggling to herself. She then stopped, smoothed the front of her robes and, for the first time, Tuette noticed that she was not carrying the telltale rucksack with her. There had been very little threat to begin with!


“I am Fy’tay om Yett, yes, but I am no ta, dear Tuette.” Confusion continued to blossom inside Tuette’s mind. What was truly occurring here? “I am the perryta of Zharinna!”


Understanding exploded then and Tuette could not help but shed a little tear. She knew what a perryta was: more than a ta of experiences, a perryta received orders from the maperryta in Gale Marsht personally. But in this region of Uv-Hren – if Tuette had her geography up-to-date – Magik was largely condemned on a public scale. Only in smaller towns and communities could a perryta effectively exist. Compared to a “traditional” town, the perryta was like a mayor. Tuette was extremely thankful to have encountered one and also to have chosen the path of honesty; if she had declined from sharing what she knew, Fy’tay might have made Tuette’s immediate future a bit more complicated.


But Tuette felt a small sense of dread then. Of all Magikals in Decennia, most believed that Cursed people carried with them the uncontrolled impulse to entertain malicious activities. A perryta was such a person who would be forced to extricate a Cursed individual, even if they did not follow the same belief about Cursed victims: they had several people’s opinions and fears to consider. Tuette felt then that there could be no hope with anyone in Zharinna. She would charm an egg as soon as she could get away from Fy’tay.


If the perryta didn’t behave in a difficult manner.


“So, Tuette, I am glad that you chose to speak honestly. And your presence yesterday was actually more fortuitous: those Mages had been instructed with the warnings of belcarotia and, having been banned from acquiring more Magikal scripts, sought revenge against not only their teachers but all of Zharinna.” Tuette’s mind boggled at the idea. Fortuitous? Perhaps with this turn of reality, Tuette could help convince Fy’tay that Cursed people might be helpful to have around. “What is most amazing is how you arranged for the belcarotia to follow you, as without your presence, it would’ve most likely directed itself towards our small community.


“That would have been most unfortunate, dear Tuette. Though we have resident Freezing Clansmen, they were all away yesterday and we would have had no defense against such a creature otherwise.” Fy’tay clasped Tuette’s whole hand in both of her own. “Thanks are in great order, Madam Tuette. Many thanks indeed!”


Tuette did not know what to say. The events had turned mostly in her favor regardless. And with so many Magik practitioners available, she might be able be craft her Freezing Pote in no time at all.


And maybe—finally—be rid of the Curse of the Hood!


But if they were to help, the people of Zharinna couldn’t know why. What to tell them? Just because they had Freezers amongst them didn’t mean they could make the Pote any better: the embers were still frozen, even after embracing almost a full day’s light! No, she would have to work cautiously. Hopefully, it would all work out to her benefit and she could finally take a proper position and title within the ranks of those that served the maperryta.


Tuette silently thanked Corunny Voidet for the knowledge he shared with her, despite the irony of such gratitude. Perhaps now things would work all the better for Tuette.


She bid Fy’tay goodnight and said that she would visit Zharinna first thing after dawn, immediately following her enchanting a new Washing Stone. After setting her clean bedclothes atop the mattress and placing the Dehydration Stone atop her freshened robe, Tuette took stock of her dwindling supplies. In a Magik community, she could easily restock the necessities, such as certain grains, some finer gr’vvel leather, and even a newer jetella edge; her current one was currently in two pieces, resulting in fires produced being diminished in flame. Yes, she would maintain her secret just long enough to get what she needed from Zharinna.


One day she could return and give proper thanks. They would be aiding in turning her life around. Perhaps there was something they needed further assistance with as well, like with their Freezers, or maybe she could temporarily teach for them? No, she knew they wouldn’t allow that because anyone, like Perryta om Yett, would only see her as an apprentice. She was not sure how she would repay them but it would be in due course.


Tuette almost instantly felt better about her situation, hoping that such feelings would not be instantly contradicted by something dreadful.


Something dreadful, like my Curse.