Chapter 22: Chapter 22: The Breaking

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Far above, in the night sky, Deiweb had chosen not to transform into a wisp of smoke and casually strode along the thin air with the glowing soles of his shoes looking like twinkling, shooting stars to anyone below. The same was true of his new servant, the woman Hegwous had sacrificed to him. With her head lowered, she held open his trunk full of food, enduring the bones or bottles he tossed behind him that knocked her head. Jokingly, he raised his hand to his forehead as if shielding his eyes from the sun. He scanned the ground, inspecting every movement, every flash of purple from an imp, every rustle from a wolf snatching a rat from its hole, a thin, furry, serpentine rompo feasting on a defeated vetala almost as big as itself. Deiweb strode right over the insignificant creatures, above the path on which he found Janelsa. He pulled out a feather just like the one he had given her and confirmed it still pointed due north. Passing over the canyon devoid of its bridge, swarmed with scavengers fighting over vetala remains, he continued to the mountain sitting in the distance.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” he called back to his servant, motioning to the wall of full green jungle just beyond the mountain, growing steadily larger. 

“Yes, sir,” she replied meekly. 

He snickered at her frailty and downed another bottle, only to throw it back and humiliate her further.

“That jungle resisted my fires. It was fun at first, but far too much work. Far too much, not enough incentive for what I would have had to put forth to reduce it to ashes if it was going to put up a fight.” He held his hand out for another snack. When she handed him a bottle, he paused until she frantically swapped it for meat. In another horrid display he somehow removed the entirety of the flesh from the bone before she could see him take a bite. She flinched, knowing the bone would soon hit her, but he suddenly froze mid throw.

He looked down and spotted a pale blue, translucent figure trudging up the winding path on the lonely mountain. 

“Ah hah!” Deiweb suddenly descended.

His shoes lost their glow, and with nary a feather ruffled, he remained perfectly postured as he plummeted through the air. His servant flailed as the same happened to her with the contents of his chest spilling out.

Janelsa was trudging up the mountain as if she were dragging an entire army behind her, watching the feather spin and point directly to the temple at the end of the path even as she followed its twists and turns. She leapt in surprise as Deiweb crashed to the ground behind her, landing perfectly, as if he hadn’t moved at all. She pressed her fingers into her nose and growled to herself.

“Oh, now. No need for—You idiot mortal!” Deiweb spun after hearing his servant, then his trunk, and then his precious snacks tumble to the ground. Fire burst from his fists and he raised his hands, casting gouts of flames down on her cowering form. “Pick those up! Now! Now!”

Janelsa recoiled at his actions. Servants were servants, but his treatment was deplorable to any eyes. “Pathetic,” she shook her head.

Deiweb froze mid throw yet again. He mechanically turned only his head. “Excuse you?”

“I said,” Janelsa started and shifted in her position, “I said it’s pathetic how you’d beat a servant like that.”

“I thought you said that,” Deiweb replied. He looked back at his cowering servant that was his offering to complete his task, then composed himself and knocked a still flaming fist into his forehead.

 “Ugh,” Janelsa sighed and crossed her arms. “Can I help you?”

“Yes.” Deiweb fussed his hair back into position. “You can. My mast—” He couldn’t contain himself and chuckled at what he was about to say.

Janelsa cocked her brow, still waiting for an answer.

“Oh. Excuse me. Oh my. The things that gave me this excuse of a sacrifice want me to watch you complete your task. So, don’t mind me. I’ll just be doing my job.” Deiweb waved his hand dismissively.

Her eyes flared. She shook with near as much rage as the fires Deiweb had let loose at the insult of his demeaning gesture and casual scoff, as if he were brushing her off like a lowly servant. But the feather twitched ever so slightly, and Janelsa turned her back to him to stomp up the path once more, towards her quarry that was within reach again, and trapped on a mountain.

“You’re not going to do anything about him?” Muli asked, appearing over her shoulder. His tone lacked his usual jest, addressing her more as an equal debating strategy. “Someone like that, he shows up out of nowhere. He’s not like any spirit I’ve ever encountered. You don’t feel something off about him?”

“Pretty sure he said he wasn’t one. Doesn’t matter right now. She’s close. I’ll either finish this or not. Then we can question him. And we already have his tool here,” Janelsa whispered, bouncing it in her palm.

“And you trust that? From him? I’m sure he isn’t expecting anything in return.”

Paying both of them little mind, Janelsa continued up the mountain. The snaking path carried the stink of Janurana’s unnatural affliction and she wrinkled her nose in disgust. It wasn’t often she smelled it as she had to be within striking distance. As she came closer to her target further up, the stone bore new sights. She paused to inspect the minute alterations. They were so subtle Janelsa hadn’t noticed until it was nearly covering the rock face. Tendrils of bright green vines snaked down it like a waterfall from the spring of the temple’s garden above. Amidst all the brown dustiness of the plateau, it was like seeing an oasis in the desert.

Janelsa’s sneer softened. It had been a few years since she’d seen nature’s splendor.

It wasn’t a hard guess who, or what had scorched the little beauty the plateau had. Janelsa knew the only ones who possibly had the power to do that would have to have been the ones who took her down. But in her fight against them, they never used fires in such a way. 

“Could be the gwomoni decided to burn everything,” Janelsa said. 

“Are you sure it’s a new ruler on the throne?” Muli asked from behind. “Our little Kumari has lived this long.” 

Janelsa let out a single laugh. “As if the governors would allow a single ruler since then without an assassination.”

Janelsa wanted to say they and the gwomoni would suffer her wrath soon as well, but she remembered the first and last time she tried to take back her home. Not long after she was killed, she awoke over a shallow grave close to the manor of house Malihabar. Her skin was normal then and it took digging up her body to understand she was a spirit. It was placed in the ground with care, a few possessions from her chambers such as a bloody knife tucked onto her person. She expected to have her corpse torn apart in revenge or even eaten by the gwomoni, but it was given a modicum of respect. Still, she went almost instantly to attack the manor once more, only to be beaten back.

Janelsa looked back, saw Deiweb following and enjoying his snacks, then realized she never even asked his name. What he said rattled in her ears, that he “ruined this part of the realm.” She could see he was in a league above any spirit.

“He can’t be the Light…” She picked at her cuticles.

“No, nobody tells stories about the Light burning anything,” Muli said.

“Some Gurus swear fire and the Light are related somehow.”

“If the gwomoni that killed you are so strong as to summon that man, what does killing Janurana matter?” Muli asked, appearing on the other side of a corner Janelsa turned. 

“They didn’t kill me. Regardless, that’s what makes it matter,” Janelsa retorted, not looking up. “Nothing else to do.”

Outside the temple the greenery began to rustle, despite the lack of wind. A pair of mice tussling over a cluster of fallen berries ceased their battle. Their noses twitched as they looked to the path down the mountain. Rising into view on the mortal plane, the mild distortion of Janelsa’s form became visible. Though it appeared as if she had stopped in front of nothing, her view from the spiritual plane showed the translucent wall blocking her advance. She inspected it up and down, left and right, marveling at the sight of it. Lines of gentle golden color danced about inside it, like a barrier made of yellow, liquid smoke. She followed them up, snaking into nothingness as the wall faded imperceptibly high into the air.

Curiously, she prodded the edge of the wall with her foot and it bowed inward like cold honey, then jiggled back into place. 

It distorted further as she tried to press through. Unlike the fire, however, she wasn’t able to force it so easily. The shield flung her back and sent her crashing into the ground, nearly back off the mountain edge. She shook her head, but the ringing in her bones had no time to register as she shot to her feet, gritting her teeth, and pushed into it again. Her fingers slammed into the threshold, forcing her fingertips through. A pained yelp left her lips, but she screwed them shut. With her feet planted Janelsa drew on all her strength, straining and groaning, and peeled the wall apart. She smirked at her power as a hole formed. 

She began to slide through the opening. Bracing the hole against her back to keep it open she hooked one leg in, seething boils erupting where the wall even glanced any part of her flesh. With the last of her strength, Janelsa used her entire body to force the opening further, allowing herself precious seconds to leap through and collapse into the dirt as the hole slammed shut behind her. She gasped for breath, out of habit rather than need and hissed as she nursed the raised boils peppering all four of her limbs, pulled herself to her feet, and noticed the leaves below her moving less erratically. 

When she got up her gait became more pronounced as she fully transitioned out of the plane of spirits with each step, like water rolling off a plate. Janelsa plucked a branch from a nearby bush, and tossed it aside, marveling at how smooth it flew. 

To the best of her recollection, that night was the first time her daughter had taken refuge in a Light temple. She had seen the glimmering barriers around them from a distance but never given them much thought. The mice had long since darted in any other direction as she strolled up the stone path. With each step Dhanur and the rest of the Ascetics felt more uneasy and began to stir in their beds.

Janurana, however, hunched as she gently cried, shot upright as the familiar pressure slammed into her back.

Janelsa had reached the doors, inspecting them with hands on her hips.

Dekha responded. He had been fidgeting in the stable, still tied to his hitching post, confused as Janelsa changed forms when she transitioned from the silhouette he threw back to a new, fully visible person. He charged, ripping the post from the ground as if it wasn’t there. All Janelsa saw was the yellow glow before he unleashed his light.

She threw herself to the side, dodging both his light and horns just in time.

Janelsa scampered along the ground and behind a boulder. She hunkered behind it. It may have protected her from his sight, but not his alarm, which reverberated through the entire mountainside. She couldn’t hear Muli’s ill–timed snarky remarks, much less the grinding of her own teeth. Then Dekha continued the charge and circled around the boulder. Janelsa rolled back and hopped from cover to cover as the bull barreled towards her with horns down and light focused.

Inside, Dhanur and the others had all been driven from their slumber. In a haze, the young monks gathered near the door, looking to Brachen who was stumbling from bed. They all began to back away into the main hall. Dhanur was ready for action, already throwing on her quiver with the air of someone who’d had their camp raided while they slept. 

Deiweb watched from behind Janelsa, his arms crossed. He paced back and forth through the barrier with no problem, scoffing at her ‘performance’. Janelsa bolted from one cover to the next as Dekha charged around the stones.

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“Master, I’ve—” His servant trudged up the path, holding the trunk. 

“About time!” he groaned and spun around. “Do you know how hungry this—okay. Hold on.”

The alarm had become too annoying for him to bear and he launched a small ball of fire right at Dekha’s nose. Dekha skidded to a halt mid-charge, ears perked up and one of his eyes switched from Janelsa to the incoming fire with no effect. In the instant Dekha noticed it wasn’t affected he vanished in a swirl of black smoke.

“Finally,” Deiweb groaned and rubbed his ears before getting another snack.

Dhanur was fumbling to tighten her leather ties since no one was currently coming through the door or windows, but then the alarm stopped. None of the others thought it meant anything. The young Ascetics exchanged cautiously optimistic glances as if the danger had passed. Brachen gave them a smile then looked to Dhanur, hoping too that whoever was there had left.

Dhanur shook her head as if a mosquito had buzzed her ear, raised her hand to swat it away, and immediately tensed up. Rather than a bug, the buzz became a ringing pain. She slammed her hands over her ears and bent over, biting her lip against it. Brachen ran beside her, keeping her upright. He tried to heal her but Dhanur angrily shooed him away. The pain faded and her heart fell when she looked at the exposed skin on her arm. She saw the last wicks of black smoke licking at her fingertips, passing her glove, and disappearing into her skin as it was doing to her forehead and ears, staining her veins black as Dekha’s shadows traveled up to her skull.

“Oh, Dark,” she growled and curled her lips.

Brachen took point at the door.

Outside, Janelsa rose from behind a rock, blinking at the gentle remnants of fire fading away where Dekha once stood.

“I should have thought of that!” She complained, ripping a chunk off her cover and hucking it at the spot.

Nevertheless, she sucked her teeth and made her way over to the temple doors, arms crossed. She drummed her finger tips in contemplation of the new obstacle, but winced as she drummed the boils on her arm. They had still not healed from traversing the barrier. A flash of fear seized her, but she was too close to her prize to give up with the bull gone. 

She slid her fingers snugly into the slightest gap between the doors, testing their strength, but she was repelled. A flash of Light illuminated the temple, radiating from inside and extending around their every crevice. It threw her back and left her fingers mangled and torn. She snatched her wrist, seething in the anger which drowned out the pain. Janelsa had never gotten used to what she had to do next, and shook her head at the prospect. Reluctantly, she wrapped her hand around the scraps of flesh still clinging to her finger’s stumps, and ripped them away with a wail. A shudder ran through her body as she examined the damage. With another yelp she tore off the boiled skin on her arms and legs, removing the ruined flesh that wasn’t healing.

Brachen stood behind the door, the Light that covered the temple poured from his hands and through the crack of the door. Dhanur took up position in front of him. Her razor focus mirrored his. Though his hands were extended, he trembled in place. Dhanur strained her bow, arrow notched and trained at the doors. 

Back in the main room the one from whom everything was happening had come held her head in her hands, gritting her teeth against the increasing pressure from Janelsa’s presence. Janurana struggled to breathe and curled up behind a nearby urn of water. She had tried to get up when she first felt the pressure but the erection of the Light barrier sent her scampering for cover. She was immobilized again as Janelsa stood right outside.

Janelsa held her arms over her eyes, the Light from the barrier becoming quite aggravating, but the sound of her rapidly healing skin starting to boil from the exposure alone was far more pressing. Panicking and shocked, she leapt back behind another stone and slunk down to contemplate her next move.

Her constant stumbling grated on Deiweb’s nerves. He had strolled to the roof of the temple for a better view, while his servant hopped side to side to dodge the Light emanating onto the roof even over the open skylight, yelping at its every sizzling touch. He groaned in annoyed embarrassment as he watched both of them flop about like fish out of water. 

Laboriously, he tapped a bored knuckle on the barrier, sending a monstrous quake through its foundation, and knocking everyone inside onto their backs. As they regained their senses, they watched in silent horror as their barrier cracked into countless shards dissolving in midair.

“Tha—It should have—For at least a minute after I—” Brachen stammered as Dhanur helped him to his feet.

Janurana blinked as the quake ceased, though the pain hadn’t subsided, she dared to peek around the urn. Her face fell as both layers of defense had failed, Dekha and Brachen.

But before any could yell in fear, a screech of immense proportions ripped through the air followed by the same rhythmic, though forced, grinding of the doors along the ground as Janelsa slowly peeled them open. She had slammed her fingers into the crack once again, even though they hadn’t fully healed. Her claws extended from the fingers that hadn’t been torn off and burrowed their way inside the solid stone.

Dhanur shoved Brachen back and fluidly drew and loosed as many arrows as she could into the slowly opening gap. The first through elicited a shout, the rest stopped Janelsa entirely.

The monks in the temple panicked regardless and sprinted for the cave in the back of the hall.

Outside, Janelsa was kneeling, spewing curse after whine of pain after curse as she yanked the arrows from her body, and waited for them to stop flying through the door.

“Urgh! How—Ow!” she yelled and ripped one out of her shoulder. 

“I suppose it’s because you’re out of the spirit pl—”

“I know where I am! Thank you, Muli!”

Brachen watched his daughter from behind. Suddenly, his mind cleared from the battle, and he smiled with pride at the bronze clad and upright warrior doing her duty before him, the one who used to be his little girl. He looked to the main hall to make sure his disciples had left and noticed Janurana, who was still curled in a ball.

Without a word, he ran over, snatched her arm, yanked her to her feet, and shoved her towards the cave. 

Janurana still couldn’t bring herself to move. In the same inscrutable clarity that let Brachen be proud of his daughter, Janurana reasoned that if the doors weren’t moving anymore, they must be safe. She could let the pain of her mother’s presence pass before she ran.

“Dekha!” She shouted hoarsely, wringing her parasol.

“I’ve got him!” Dhanur shouted back, still loosing arrows, not knowing if they were hitting anything or not, but stepping back too.

Brachen grabbed Janurana’s arm again and practically threw her to the cave. 

“Just go,” he said. His voice wasn’t stern, but it wasn’t caring either. He ran back to Dhanur. She didn’t even notice him until she reached for her arrows, and found none. 

“Dark,” she calmly swore. 

With the arrows finished, Janelsa lost no time. She shot to her feet with dizzying speed, grabbed the doors, and, with all her might, flung them open. The stone monoliths flew aside like leaves in a storm, almost snapping off their mechanisms. Brachen and Dhanur were nearly thrown off their feet at the force of it and of her rage.

Janurana had dared to have a flicker of hope when Dhanur’s arrows looked to have stopped her mother, but the veil of pain and terror that trapped her was shattered seeing her mother in full view. Almost like Dekha, her jaw unhinged, and she released a truly desperate wail that brought even Deiweb a shudder of residual horror. She exploded, sprinting into the cave behind her at full tilt.

Dhanur only saw the last remnant of Janurana’s sari vanish into the darkness of the caves, leaving them to face her mother alone. 

Janelsa stood resolute in the doors, a pale blue specter of wrath incarnate, slumping with the weight of her anger and her wounds. She watched her target flee behind two wretched insects.

“How… Rude…” she sneered, the words dripping from her lips.

With the same power as Janurana, she leapt forward, looking to blow past them as if they weren’t there. Before Dhanur could react, Janelsa was between them, smashing past her. Her wounded shoulder took the entirety of the hit and burst open, bronze bending and bone cracking. Blood cascaded down her arm as she collapsed.

Janelsa missed Brachen, and he was able to hit the moving target near the hall’s end and launch a pillar of Light from his palm that crashed into her, sending her flying into the back wall. Then he dropped down to heal Dhanur. On the roof, watching through the skylight, Deiweb hit his head on the stone.

Dhanur clutched at her shoulder, seething and wincing at the amount of blood staining her undershirt. It was spilling from the end of her sleeve and filling her glove. She knew the wound was bigger than it first was and she didn’t register her bone was broken. Brachen tried to keep calm, but he was pouring all the Light he could into his hands, and didn’t notice the snap of stone again. Despite her chest being dented in, Janelsa had easily torn a statue from the wall and then hurled it at them like a javelin. 

It crushed Dhanur before either of them could move. She screamed and the last of her strength left her. Her bronze did nothing and a fairly sizeable chunk ricocheted off the statue, connecting with Brachen’s head. He stared at Dhanur, dazed, unable to react as the statue half rolled off her, revealing Janelsa hobbling toward the tunnel. The blue specter clutched her chest, with her shattered ribs poking through her skin and muga.

“You. And your. Bull…” Janelsa’s leg gave out. The bone snapped from her shin and she collapsed. 

Dhanur’s muted cries of agony snapped Brachen from his daze and he fired another blast at Janelsa who rolled along the ground until she smacked into the back wall again. But Brachen didn’t follow up. He frantically tried to heal his daughter, his hands flowing all over her torso, as if everything needed fixing. The color rapidly drained from his cheeks more than when Dhanur had first arrived. As the first bone snapped back into place Dhanur finally lost consciousness. Brachen steeled himself, knowing the pain he had to inflict on her was beyond necessary. In a way, he felt oddly proud of how long it had taken for her to pass out. 

But Janelsa staggered up, pushed her bone back inside as her skin struggled to heal, and continued to hobble to the cave entrance.

But a third shot of Light soared past her and into the tunnel. Then another, and another. Soon it was nothing but rubble as Brachen returned to Dhanur’s wounds.

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