Chapter 388: Ffion's Touch

“This is such a wonderful place,” Carey’s eyes couldn’t stay still as the group trudged through the village. “It’s like something from bedtime fairy tales my nursemaid told when I was little.”

She looked a little brighter, gawking like a sightseer.

Professor Jules was doing the same, though she was clearly pretending she wasn’t. From the smirk on Baelin’s face, he’d noticed.

For a moment, it felt like just another ordinary day, not one with a potentially life-shattering truth gathering on the horizon like storm clouds. But, Alex knew this moment would soon end for him, and the other followers of Uldar walking through the magical village beside him.

They reached a series of long buildings on the other side of the village where former hostages were recovering. Caregivers busied themselves, collecting large pots—now empty of their bland contents—to clean them in the kitchens. They watched the passersby with nods and friendly smiles of gratitude and even awe.

Those reactions had become common since they’d helped end the demon and cultist scourge that had done so much damage to life in the Crymlyn.

But Alex and his companions couldn’t stop to talk, they were on their way to a small cottage set apart from the other buildings.

An offended looking young woman was shutting a door, gripping the handle like she wanted to crush it as she glanced at them and left with an empty pot in her other hand.

Complaints from within the cottage chased her as she went. “You’re trying to starve me! I swear, you are! I need real food! Fried catfish! Roasted bear! Nice, hot, chunks of bread, come on! I’ve been starved for weeks, have mercy!”

The woman hurried away, muttering to herself with no interest in turning back.

“Oh, Ffion,” Drestra sighed as they approached the cottage. “Why do you have to give people trouble?”

Before any of her companions could say a word, she opened the door to a single room with an oak bed that was occupied by an agitated young woman.

“Back to argue, eh? Listen, starving people can’t recover their strength with bone broth alo—Oh, I’m so glad you’re here, Drestra. I thought it was that stingy—never mind about her. Did you bring food?”

“Hello, Ffion,” the Sage said in a very unimpressed tone as she stepped inside. “Nice to see you’re treating the people trying to help you with kindness and respect.”

Ffion froze, then was suddenly seized by loud, exaggerated coughing. “They’re trying to kill me. Seriously, give me anything but broth,” she groaned, flopping back on her bed and looking weaker, even her voice suddenly sounded weaker than when she was pleading for mercy from broth a minute ago. “Drestra, help, they’re torturing me. I’m feeling weak. I’m feeling so weeeaaaaak.”

The young woman had buried herself in blankets. Broth and a pitcher of water lay within arm’s reach. Beneath her were several layers of sheep’s wool. In short, she looked shockingly cosy for someone being tortured.

“You’re not being tortured, Ffion,” Drestra grunted. “You’re fine.”

“Ya, easy for you to say. You get real food,” she grumbled, looking at the others who’d squeezed into the one-room cottage after the Sage.

“Stay outside, Brutus,” Theresa said. “It’ll be a little cramped in here.”

“Same thing for you, buddy,” Alex said. “Just wait out here for a bit, we won’t be long.”

The cerberus cocked his heads at Theresa then turned in place a couple of times and laid by the door.

Hart came in last, shutting it behind him.

Professor Jules cleared her throat. “Greetings.”

“How do you do,” Baelin said.

The others greeted Ffion while the young woman looked at them like a cornered deer.

“Drestra what is this? Am I being arrested?”

“No,” the Sage said dryly.

“Oh…is this the reason I was given my own cottage? Something to do with these people?”

“Yes.”

“I thought it was because I’ve been friends with the Elder’s daughter from the time we were small.” Ffion flashed a toothy smile.

“It’s that too,” Drestra frowned at her childhood friend. “Though I’m beginning to regret that… But, seriously, I need to ask you for a favour.”

“Well, you just saved my life,” Ffion said, turning to the others. “All of you did, I hear. Well, except for you, and you.” She squinted at Carey and Professor Jules. “No offence.”

“None taken,” the professor said.

“But as for the rest of you: if one of you asked for my firstborn, I think I’d pretty much have to give them up, that is…when I get around to having this firstborn. You saved my life, so, whatever you need.”

Drestra looked at Alex and Baelin.

The young wizard cleared his throat. “Well, it’s pretty simple.”

“But it requires secrecy,” the chancellor added. “Drestra says you are to be trusted…but, would you be opposed to swearing a magical oath that guards against loose tongues?”

Ffion looked at Drestra. “Uh…what is this?”

“You’ll understand in a minute. It’s not going to be anything very dangerous. Probably.”

“Probably?”

“In all likelihood, no, if I understand the proceedings correctly,” Professor Jules added. “You will not be doing the dangerous part.”

“There’s a dangerous part?” Ffion looked at her sharply.

“Yeah, probably,” Drestra said. “But it’s like the professor said, you’re not going to do the dangerous part.”

Silence followed.

Ffion took a deep breath. “Well, I guess this is better than my firstborn. What do you need me to do?”

“First,” Alex said. “We kinda need to do an oath of secrecy with you. Something that’ll ensure you don’t talk about this with anyone.”

The young witch looked at Drestra who nodded at her friend.

“Alright, you people saved us, my friend trusts you, so I think I can trust you too,” Ffion said. “Besides, we use that kind of magic too, so this must be really important.”

“It is, otherwise we would not burden you with it,” Baelin said. “I shall conduct the ritual after we finish our test…if you would do the honours, Alex?”

The young wizard carefully removed the dungeon core from the satchel.

Carey tensed, watching the dark orb in his hands.

“Now, try not to—” he started.

“Is that what I think it is?” Ffion cried, backing into the headboard.

“We don’t really have to talk about what it is…” Alex said. “… really, it’s probably better if we don’t get into too many details about that,” he offered her the core.

Wide eyes pleaded with Drestra for… “Help?”

“Ffion, trust me, this will be easy,” the Sage assured her. “All you have to do is pick it up—”

“—you want me to touch a dungeon core?” Ffion hissed, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Are you out of your mind?”

“It’ll be alright.”

“Oh by the spirits, folk said that you’d tricked those demons into thinking you had a dungeon core…” she gripped the sides of her head in shock. “Not that you actually had one!”

“We do…and we need to find out something about it.” Drestra took one of Ffion’s hands. “Please. It’s important.”

The other witch looked at her for a long while…then sighed.

“Fine, what should I do?”

“It’s simple,” Alex told her. “We want you to run your mana over the dungeon core and feel for any…oddities.”

“And it won’t kill me or maim my soul?”

“Well, I’m holding it, aren’t I?”

“And—” Drestra touched the orb. “—I’m touching it too and I’m fine.”

“...okay, but if it kills me, I’m haunting you.” Ffion sat up in bed and gingerly touched the orb.

This was it.

Alex held his breath. The Heroes leaned in. Baelin fixed the dungeon core with his piercing gaze. Theresa swallowed. Professor Jules took out her pen and notebook. Carey prayed in whispers.

Everyone watched as Ffion focused her mana, running it over the orb.

Heartbeats passed in silence.

Breaths were held.

And then…

“Am I looking for something in particular?”

Cedric groaned.

“No…” Carey murmured.

“What about here?” Drestra guided her friend’s mana to the area where the entrances were located. “Do you feel anything here?”

Alex felt Ffion’s mana pass over the ‘gates’.

Another long moment passed.

Ffion shook her head.

“No…nothing,” she looked puzzled. “I gather there’s supposed to be something there? Maybe I did it wrong.”

There was a thud as Cedric fell against the wall, the colour draining from his face. “Oh you didn’t do a thing wrong. Oh, bloody hell. Oh, bloody, bloody hell.”

“By holy Uldar,” Carey was reaching for the door fighting back tears, a heart wrenching sob wracked her body as she staggered into the cool air.

“Miss Londo—Carey!” Professor Jules snapped her notebook shut. “I’ll go after her. Many thanks, Miss Ffion.”

The professor stepped outside, closing the door behind her.

Alex swallowed.

Confirmation.

The only people who could control dungeon cores were not only Thameish...they also followed Uldar.

It was a strange thing.

They’d entered Crymlyn Swamp knowing that it was either one possibility or the other. They’d fought a terrible battle not only to help Drestra’s people, but to also find out for certain who could control dungeon cores.

The battle had been won.

A feast was planned in their honour for tonight.

They’d found the answer to the question that had brought them here.

And yet—

“Why…why do you all look like someone just desecrated your graves?” Ffion looked at everyone before her. “What was wrong with that woman? Why was she crying? Are you sure I didn’t do something wrong?”

“Oh no, you did not…but…well, one day you will know exactly what has occurred,” Baelin said. “Apologies for the mysterious approach we’re taking for the time being, but it is best if as few people as possible know as little as possible, and nothing more.”

“I…I bloody well need some air,” Cedric almost ran outside.

“Yeah, me too.” Theresa followed him. “I…I need to see my dog.”

“Theresa—” Alex called after her, but she was gone. “Shit. Baelin, can you hold onto this?”

He offered the ancient wizard the dungeon core, and Baelin gladly took it.

“Of course. Go ahead. I shall disguise all of your voices so you’ll be free to discuss things without worry.” The chancellor tucked the dungeon core away. “Have a chat while I go about sealing the oath with the ever so helpful Ffion.” He smiled down at her. “You have done a great service today, though you might not know the full extent of it, and I will see to it that you are appropriately compensated.”

“Compensated?” Ffion looked like she wanted to bolt. “But…what’d I do?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll stay and we’ll talk about it, as much as we can,” the Sage said.

It was the last thing Alex heard before he stepped out of the cottage, followed by Hart. Theresa was kneeling beside Brutus, hugging his necks while Cedric was staring up at the sky as though his gaze could punch a hole in it. A short distance away, Carey had collapsed against the cottage wall, still sobbing while Professor Jules awkwardly consoled her.

Alex made his way to his partner and gently squeezed her shoulder. She reached up, locking her fingers with his and buried her face between Brutus’ necks. The cerberus nuzzled her.

“Baelin cast a spell that lets us talk without anyone else understanding what we’re saying,” Alex announced. “So…if anyone needs to say anything about…well, you can just get it out.”

Silence followed.

Then Hart put his hands on his hips and blew a breath out. “Well…that’s that, isn’t it?”

“Whaddya mean, ‘that’s that’?” Cedric looked at him, wild-eyed. “We just bloody found out that only folks worshippin’ the god that stamped us ta’ fight our, or maybe it's his eternal enemy, are the only ones who can control those things…and “that’s that” is all you can say?”

“Yeah,” Hart crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you want me to say? ‘Oh no’? ‘Oh, my heart’s shattering’? ‘My mind’s coming apart’? ‘My faith’s been robbed from me’?”

“Hart,” Cedric threw a meaningful look at Carey. “Have a bloody care, would ya?”

“Why?” the Champion asked. “Look, I understand feeling bad, but it happened, and we know about it. No amount of crying, or screaming, or losing our minds is going to change that.”

“I…kinda agree with Hart,” Alex said. “We all knew this was a possibility and—to be fair—even if Ffion could control the core, which would mean this would be about Thameish people in general and not just Uldar’s followers, then that’d still be a problem. I’m not saying it doesn’t suck, because it does…but at least we know more about what we’re dealing with—”

“Do we?” Cedric scowled. “Now we know that…havin’ faith in Uldar is what lets us control our worst enemy, but somehow, no priests ever thought that’d be somethin’ important fer us t’know? I mean, sure, now we know, but what in all shite do we do wit’ that information? What in all hells do we bloody-well do?”

“That’ll take time to figure out, but—no matter what it means—at least now we have somewhere to start,” Alex said. “And…if it does have something to do with Uldar, then we’re not completely in the dark anymore.”

“Look, that’s easy for you t’say, no offence but y’weren’t marked by our god,” Cedric said. “Y’wouldn’t get it.”

Alex felt heat rising. ‘Ya, I would get it,’ he thought. He was one hair away from telling the Hero that he had no idea what he was talking about, that he’d also been marked—but as the Fool, not the Chosen, like him. He wanted to tell Cedric that it was him who’d been stamped with a Mark that made him the object of Thameland’s ridicule, and that no one had ever asked if he’d be okay with that, or if he’d be willing to die for that, for a cause built on some sort of deception. He wanted to shout that Cedric wasn’t the only one whose life had been flipped on its head. …but he couldn’t say any of that, at least not now: Cedric was obviously raging, and in that state, who knew what the Hero might do.

Besides, Carey was right there seeming like her heart would break, confronting Cedric wouldn’t help her.

“We’re both followers of Uldar, Cedric.” Theresa looked up at the Chosen, then pushed herself to her feet. “We were raised and educated in the church. Priests helped me learn my letters and spell my name. We’ve lived and breathed him our whole lives, even if we don’t pray out loud all the time, or join campus groups, or visit the church. He’s shaped our lives, just like yours, and now what the hell does this all mean?”

The huntress’ frown deepened. “Who the hell have we been praying to?”

“Oh? You think this goes beyond priests?” Hart asked.

“Maybe. It’s possible,” she said. “I wish there was a way to go ask.”

“The priests?” Alex asked her.

“No. Uldar,” she said. “But…look at the difference, you go to Generasi and find out that gods all over the world talk to their followers, or even walk the world. Ours? He’s distant. Silent. And this is a bad time for him to be silent.”

“…what if we did ask, though?” Carey spoke up suddenly.

The group turned to her as the young woman got to her feet.

“What if we went and asked him why we can control these dungeon cores?” She wiped her nose. “What if we went right to the source?”