Chapter 29: Chapter 29: I became the man who I am because I met an owl in the forest and we hooted at each other.

Something in the air has shifted. The feeling in the room, the pressure of the ever so subtle draft which always creeps through the cracks of the old house, the lingering smell of fire that never quite seems to leave the walls which had, for a while now, been covered by the fresh smell of frogs. It all changes.

 

The owl-god Obscura sits up high on the rafters, staring down at the room beneath herself. But she isn’t just there. She’s everywhere, as are the eyes. Yellow, haunting pairs of eyes stare out of every shadow, every nook, cranny and crevice as if a thousand small, birdlike silhouettes and then a thousand more were all standing in every lightless gap of the house, watching a field full of scampering mice running beneath themselves with shifting, darting eyes. But those are only eyes in the darkness. There is only one real, visible form, one gestalt, one Obscura that sits as the embodiment of a giant owl atop a wooden rafter, which looks like it’s bending, sagging down from the weight of her massive body sitting atop it. Her long talons, each alone the size of Rhine, wrap around the beam as she leans downward and tilts her head at a sharp angle.

 

The air all around the space is distorted by passive magic. The presence of it is exhausting. The sheer, raw energy released by a god, perhaps even one as minor and obscure as Obscura, is literally tangible. It’s draining.

 

Fighting it, Hineni presses himself up onto his legs. The bindings on his wrists snap as the pressure of the spell, combined with the weakening of the fabric, along with the own pulling his large arms, is enough to break them apart.

 

“Three?” croons the owl-god. “Obscura has been gone for THREE days. She knew the bad frogs would come. BAD FROGS!” she hoots, spreading her wings out wide. A gust of air shoots out immediately. Tables flip over, vases fly and break, Hineni lifts his arm to cover his face, only seeing out of the corner of his eyes as Rhine flies away, unable to keep his footing.

 

The frog-like healer is certainly terrified. Far more terrified of Obscura than she is of the elf holding a knife to her bleeding throat, as evidenced by her body starting to drop away from Sockel’s grip towards the floor, even if that means the knife moves along her clammy skin somewhat.

 

The magic dissipates as Obscura scans the room, scans him, tilting her head at an unnatural angle as she sees his soaked clothes and bloody head. She hisses and clicks with her beak. The pressure in the room seems to lessen even further, as she dials down her magic.

 

The blue-haired woman with a bleeding arm lets out an angry scream, rising to her feet. Swiping her good arm out, a torrent of wild water rushes around her fingers as she prepares a spell.

 

Hineni grabs her arm from behind, one hand around her wrist, one hand beneath her shoulder.

 

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