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Chapter 2: Lie Low

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Morrigan moved to catch Tyler as he fell. She sighed, lowering his head safely to the ground. She retrieved her phone from her coat pocket, put in an earbud, and brushed her fingers against the braille keypad. She entered a number and waited.

Damon answered, "Morrigan?"

"I had an accident with a local."

"On a date? What did you do?"

"He didn't remember me. I forgot my hat, but he remembered enough to return it to me," she replied. "I got upset and he wouldn't let it go."

Shit, You killed him,” Damon said, his voice shaking. “Morrigan, you-”

"It's not his fault he forgot. I didn't kill him. I just knocked him out.”

She could hear the relief in his voice. "Oh, that's not so bad."

"What do I do? I can't keep doing this."

"The Candlelight is different for everyone. He may be a late bloomer.”

"So just keep at it? That's your advice?" Morrigan asked, pacing in circles around Tyler’s unconscious body.

"He's your responsibility, now” Damon said. “He may forget again, so I guess you could leave. Course, if he doesn't forget-”

Morrigan groaned. “That’s not helpful.”

"You know the rules. Did you tell him anything?"

"No. It was mostly casual." She regretted the words immediately.

"That’s a little irresponsible.”

Morrigan scoffed. “Don't lecture me.”

Damon cleared his throat. "Check up on him tomorrow, I guess."

"Really?" she replied.

"Our hands are tied. You dug the hole, now you need to lay in it." She could hear the smile in his voice, but it didn't last long. "Let's not worry till we know more. Wait and see what happens."

She took a breath, sighed, and rubbed her temples. "Fine. Now about the cult."

"Learn anything thus far?"

Morrigan lowered her voice, slowly making her way to the edge of the woods behind the Cafe. I inspected some of the bodies. Were you going to tell me The Fiery Lock was involved?"

"I didn't know. Why would they be involved?"

"I'm not a member anymore. I have no idea."

Damon chuckled. "We'll keep an eye out and see what we can find on our end."

"Thank you." She hung up and tucked the phone back into her coat. She left the path and moved deeper into the woods. After nearly falling twice she paused, opting to use the static for guidance. 

The static served as a medium through which all arcane effects emerge, like a fabric covering everything in the world. By shaping the static, one creates the foundation for their spells. For her, it was much more. It helped navigate the uneven ground, acting as a sixth sense when used. It was an extension of herself. It couldn't give her vision, but it was close.

The static is something felt, the same way one can feel the existence of a severed limb. She could touch objects at a distance, feel their texture and temperature. The static is formless in its natural state. As such, must be given form to be of use.

She focused the static, this phantom limb. She condensed it to the palm of her hand, knelt down, and placed her hand on the ground as one would touch a priceless work of art. She released the static, causing a cloud of dirt and leaves to burst from the ground in a ring around her. 

The static drove into the earth and shot out in all directions. She felt it move over the rocks and cover the trees. It traced the land, giving a mental map of roads, creeks, and elevation. 

The static painted a picture, but one that couldn't be seen. Morrigan's sense of self, her very being, extended beyond her body. Through the static, she expanded. She wasn't just aware of the landscape. She became a part of it.

She noticed a void missing from her mental map. She took her time in tracking it down, routinely sending out pulses of static in smaller, more focused bursts by condensing it and snapping her fingers.

The smaller the pulse was, the more detailed the map would be. The static was limited, produced in one's own body. When spread across miles for the purpose of mapping an area, only the bigger picture can be seen. By shrinking the area, Morrigan pinpointed finer details. Much like a GPS, it took several pulses at different points to know a subject's location with a minimal margin of error. 

When she found the empty space on the map, she stood before a stone ruin. She heard nothing, not even the wind, a side effect of warding. It's easy to find, but not as easy to enter.

Wards were old, a tool used to refuse entry. They pushed back when one would move forward. Morrigan felt the wards tug at her. They pulled her back as if tethers reached out and wrapped around her entire frame to hold her in place. She tried to imagine where the force originated.

She stepped back, then forward, inching her way into the ward's influence. The ward pulled; the onset slowed by her cautious approach enough to feel what direction the pull originated from. She stepped toward the source of the barrier, feeling along each surface with a delicate touch.

She felt along a large rock. She felt the bark of trees. When her fingers brushed against a symbol carved into the bark, she retrieved a curved blade from her coat pocket. She embedded it into the tree and struck a line through the symbol.

Wards were made in clusters, chained together along a perimeter. Each ward powered the others. When destroyed, the chain is broken. The wards failed in sequence, each releasing Morrigan from their hold. 

She entered what seemed to be ruins while tapping the cane to guide her way. Her hand stretched out, grazing each surface to understand its composition and origin. The ruins consisted of smooth stone, black based on what little vision she had. She explored the ruin's labyrinthine design, sending a pulse of static into the earth to map the entire complex.

She took note of tunnels and chambers underground, potential obstacles that could make exploration difficult, and added smaller pulses to check if she was alone. She tucked the cane under her arm and moved to an open chamber.

The chamber led to the lower level of the ruins. Her descent brought a smile to her face. She let out a sigh, her body loosening in the dark as she navigated the tunnels. She moved along the path memorized in her head. Her smile faded as she approached the largest of three rooms.

Her hands wrapped around the handles of discarded tools. An improvised entrance behind a pile of rubble sat before her. She passed through, walking on the balls of her feet with her cane prepared to strike. Her foot touched something soft, one of several bodies that littered the room. 

She inspected every inch of the room, sending a pulse to visualize the scene as she paced around the bodies. The bodies rested exactly eight feet from the others. They were arranged in the shape of an eight with a dip in the floor at the center of the room. The depression sat with a domed disc tossed to the side.

She inspected the depression in the floor. It served as a container, and the dome disc served as a lid. A thick, foul-smelling liquid filled the space inside. The bodies were all that remained of the cult behind the attack, arranging themselves before a quiet death.

It was likely poison, taken after their loss, but Morrigan found nothing related to what once resided in the container before the seal was broken. She left the ruins, calling Damon when she found the road leading back to town.

"The cult is gone," Morrigan said when he answered.

"All of them?"

"Probably not, but the ones who mattered are. They're dead."

"I see."

"They woke something up. I found a ruin of unknown origin."

"In Maine?" Damon replied. "Wonder what they found?"

Morrigan lit a cigarette. She took a drag, exhaled, and cleared her throat. "Doesn't matter anymore. Anything on your end?"

Damon spoke after several moments of silence, “You may want to lie low.”

“Why?”

“One of our safe houses got a package today,” Damon said with a chuckle. “It was meant for you.”

“And?” 

"It was a bomb.

Morrigan shouted, “Again? That's the fifth time.”

“No worries. Use the account set up for you and lie low. We're working on it."

“For how long?”

“As long as it takes.” Damon said. “Don't forget about your forgetful pet."

Morrigan stopped walking and took another drag. "Right.”

 
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Nov 12, 2020 04:19 by Jacob Billings

Wow. Was part of this new? I don’t remember your room 8 lines but I certainly remember the bombing attempt.

Nov 12, 2020 04:28 by R. Dylon Elder

They might be? idk I've been editing off and on and I can't remember XD Im pretty sure most of it was there, but I reworked it a little bit to make certain things, like the static, more clear and understandable.