Interlude 5: Shattered Symphony

Brenda woke up tangled in her bedsheets, a light sheen of sweat coating her skin. A glance towards her window gave her the impression it was only early evening, the dying light of the sun still providing some illumination.

'Not more than a little nap,' she thought, reaching over to pick up her phone. The display confirmed her suspicions. In the mostly dark room, she let her thoughts wander, flitting from reliving the fight that had happened to the many interesting people that her son had befriended.

'More than befriended,' she amended as she recalled John's confession on the nature of the relationship he found himself in. It was a bit shocking to find out he'd gone from single to being with four girls in the span of a week, but she saw that they were happy and seemed to have no ulterior motives to being with her son, or each other.

'I don't think if there wasn't genuine affection, they wouldn't have come rushing to save us the way they did,' Brenda thought.

Fully awake now, Brenda noted her hunger. She had gone to lay down only after having one slice of the remaining pizza, the meager slice hardly enough to refuel her after the panic of the day.

'I wonder if John and the girls ordered any dinner?' she wondered as she threw the sheets off her body, revealing the green silk pajamas she wore. 'And if they didn't, I think there should be some yogurt left in the fridge.'

It was hardly a filling meal, but Brenda deemed it enough to get her through the night. She got up out of the bed and grabbed a robe, throwing it on and tying it loosely closed.

She slid into a pair of slippers and cracked open her door. The hallway was dark, save for the small amount of light pouring out from around John's door as well as the silver glow of an array.

Curiosity drove Brenda to approach the magical symbol, her eyebrows furrowed as she crept towards John's room.

'Isn't this the same thing Vivian put up to give John and me privacy?' she thought as she examined the array. With only seeing it for a brief moment, she couldn't be sure, but there was a flash of recognition she couldn't deny, though the one from before didn’t look as fragile as this one did.

The question of why such an effect was needed in front of John's door was apparent, and that was before Brenda could make out the very faint sounds of moaning in the room beyond. Unbidden, Brenda’s imagination overtook her and she couldn’t help but envision what was going on beyond the door and a familiar itch began to build between her thighs.

She hastily stepped away from the door before her treacherous mind dragged her down the rabbit hole of imagining her son fucking his girlfriends. Distance did little to dampen her building arousal.

‘Get a hold of yourself, Brenda,’ she chided herself. ‘That’s your son and his girlfriends. Have you no shame?’

Shaking her head to clear away those thoughts, Brenda descended to the living room. The faint glow of silver drew her eye to the couch, where another array hovered above the blue haired girl.

Sadness overshadowed both arousal and hunger and Brenda detoured to her unwell houseguest.

"No sign of waking up, dear?" she softly asked the **** girl. Brenda reached a hand out to brush back a stray bit of blue hair but stopped as she eyed Vivian’s array.

It was distinctly different from the one to dampen noise and Brenda wondered if it was programmed to alert the redhead if Kiera moved. And if she would set it off with a small act of care she was about to do.

After a moment of debate, Brenda’s motherly instincts won and she gently moved the girl's hair away from her eyes.

She jerked back when a crackle of static electricity shocked her and Kiera shifted slightly. Brenda held her breath, waiting to see if she would wake.

When she didn't, Brenda took a step back, a sad frown on her face.

"I suppose it wouldn't clear up that easily," she sighed. Before she set back to retrieving her small dinner, Brenda walked to the small closet and pulled out an old throw blanket.

After shaking it free of any dust, she gently laid it over Kiera and made sure the girl was as comfortable as possible.

'If the small bits John saw were anything to go by, she hasn't had a good life,' she thought sadly as she slipped into the kitchen. 'I think I'll get that spare room fixed up. Give her a proper place for her to regain her footing.'

As quietly as she could, Brenda gathered her small meal and left to return to her room. She gave Kiera one last sad look and went up the stairs. She pointedly avoided looking at John's door and swiftly entered her room.

She placed her food on her side table and closed her door. Before she dug in, she walked to her dresser. After a moment of debate, she bent down and pulled out from the bottom drawer her tablet, unable to calm her passions.

I'll just use the usual methods and take the edge off,' she assured herself, burying the reason she was horny in the first place. Placing the tablet down, she ate her small meal and began to peruse her normal erotic fiction site for something to inspire her.

In the end, however, she couldn't fight the taboo and settled on an encounter between a son and mother, though she assured herself it was only a fantasy. With that rationale, once she was done with her dinner, she stripped off her robe and pajamas, turned out the light and settled back into bed, the sheets bunched down at the foot.

With one hand holding her tablet, her other was free to move to caress one of her bountiful tits, her fingers pinching her nipple between them. Her pussy grew moist both from her ministrations and the words on the screen, an innocent encounter that quickly erupted into a taboo passion.

Soon the names on the page were her own and John’s and her nimble fingers moved from teasing to full on masturbation, plunging into her pussy with increasing vigor. Primed as she was, it didn’t take long for her orgasm to rock her curvy body. Her body spasmed as she came, ending up spread-eagle across her bed; her tablet and the incestuous story displayed on it was forgotten in the afterglow. Sleep followed soon after.

---

Moira reviewed the report from Harlow with narrowed eyes.

‘A barrier in the parking lot of a shopping center with lingering traces of magic similar to the one from the Chinatown event. Not an exact match, but enough for him to be convinced it's connected.’

The location of the attack made her believe it was an attack of opportunity, not some planned move, and that left her worried for her unknown informant.

‘Were they found out and eliminated?’ she thought, a small twinge of guilt running through her.

The report gave no indication of what had transpired within the barrier as it had degraded before they could reach it, taking any physical evidence into the void and leaving only a slight stain on the surrounding area.

That left Moira unsettled. With the Order’s seers and other magically sensitive members and equipment on alert, the use of such power shouldn’t have gone undetected for as long as it had. And it left her with an unnerving possibility that wouldn’t leave her mind.

‘There’s something at play that’s masking this foul magic,’ she concluded, writing down her thoughts. ‘Not a perfect cloak, as we can detect it, but enough to prevent us from detecting them as they employ their dark power. A delay for them to enact their foul purpose free of interference.’

She signaled for a maid to collect the note she wrote and directed her to deliver it to Harlow before she resumed her thoughts.

‘Three instances of this blood related magic and we only detected the Natural Barrier by chance. We are walking blind and several steps behind. We need something to even the scales.’

What she needed was to know who had put her on this path. Someone she had shared a space with but remained unknown to her. The nature of the barrier Harlow was investigating left her with the thought that perhaps their informant had been found out and was attacked. She prayed to the Lady that such wasn’t the case, or if it was, that any suffering was brief.

Realization struck Moira once her prayer was issued.

‘If they were found out and removed, then they won’t be at school tomorrow,’ she thought. ‘If I can get a look at the attendance rolls, I can check the absences and forward their addresses to the recon team to check on them.'

It might be a breach of the rules, even for a member of the student council, but given the circumstances, a necessary one. And if good came of it, Moira could easily ignore the guilt. Lives were on the line. If not whoever left the note, then whoever might be the next victim.

---

The ring of the phone pulled Piper from her reading and she sighed, brushing back a strand of her green hair.

“Always when I get to the good part,” she complained as she set a bookmark into the text and placed the book on the side table as she got up. “Wonder who’s calling and what they need done?”

Raising her hands above her head to stretch out her limbs, Piper languidly made her way to her office. If someone was going to call her work number on a Sunday night, she wasn’t above making them wait a bit before she picked up. When she saw the number on the display, her pettiness only grew.

“Hawthorne, huh? So, either the business needs some leverage or some socialite needs to be embarrassed.”

She let the phone ring a few more times before picking up, answering with, “Irons Investigations.”

“I know who you are,” a young and haughty voice responded. “And you have some nerve making me wait.”

‘A curveball,’ Piper thought, torn between amusement and annoyance. ‘Didn’t expect the heiress to be on the other end.’

“Ms. Hawthorne, I apologize for the wait,” Piper said smoothly, deciding the ‘polite’ routine would be best to deal with the teenager.

“Whatever,” Vanessa huffed. “I need you to dig into someone.”

‘Oh, joy. Teenage drama,’ Piper thought before asking,” And who would I be looking into?”

“Some bitch of a classmate,” Vanessa seethed. “I want you to get anything I can use to bury her.”

‘Sounds like whoever this is really pissed you off,’ Piper mused. ‘Almost want to not take the job just because of that.’

She couldn’t afford to do that and lose the Hawthorne’s money so she said, “I’ll need whatever info you can give me and my retainer paid. I’m sure you know the amount and my rates.”

“Yeah, I know,” Vanessa said offhandedly. A second later, Piper’s personal cell vibrated and an alert flashed on the display from her bank. “Get it?”

“Yes. A pleasure to be working for you, Ms. Hawthorne,” Piper said smoothly. “Now, who am I looking into?”

“Her name is Bea or something like that,” the heiress unhelpfully said. “Weirdo doesn’t have any social stuff.”

“I’m going to need more to work with than what might be her name,” Piper explained slowly, her eyelid twitching and a headache beginning to develop. “Anybody she’s friends with I could look up?”

“Yeah,” Vanessa spat. “She’s been hanging out with that loser weirdo John Newman. Loser should have some page.”

Piper committed the name to memory and said, “That I can work with. If that’s a deadend, send me a picture of them so I can use that.”

“Ugh, if I have to,” Vanessa complained. “That everything?”

“Should be enough to start,” Piper informed her. “I could have something as early as Tuesday.”

“Great,” was the unenthusiastic response from the heiress. “You’re going to keep this from my mom, right?”

“Discretion is key in this business, Ms. Hawthorne,” Piper answered, filing away that she was using the family money for this without permission. “My lips are sealed.”

“Good, just don’t take too long. Bitch has it coming,” Vanessa said, then hung up.

Piper let out a sigh. “Might as well get a start on it. Getting a face to a name will make tagging easier. Don’t want to raise anyone’s suspicions by hanging around that school.”

Sliding into her office chair, she powered up her computer and went searching. Thankfully, it was a brief one.

“Looks like this is the kid,” she muttered as she studied the average looking young man pictured on her screen. “Sure looks pathetic. Probably bullied by the queen bee. Sorry, kiddo, but work is work.”

She closed her eyes and focused, gathering a small amount of mana before opening them. Her senses enhanced, she committed Mr. Newman’s face to memory before turning everything off and heading to bed.

---

Lynn collapsed against the wall of Martius' lab, utterly exhausted. Everything had gone wrong and the last several hours had pushed her to the limit of both body and mind. Her eyes drifted to the table where Harker lay, eerily motionless.

Something happened while he had been connected to that girl, something that overloaded Martius’ machine, sending Harker into psychic shock, a shock that sent his condition into overdrive.

“How many vials of Vitacrim did I give him?” she asked herself, her words coming out in a bit of a slur. “Five, or six, right?”

“Seven,” Martius answered as he trudged back into the lab, a mug of something hot in his hands. “I believe you said that any more could stimulate overhealing that would develop into tumors.”

“Yeah, that’s what can happen,” Lynn said, leaning her head back against the stone. A question bubbled up through the haze of her drained mind, a question that had been pushed back by the **** situation that had arisen. “What happened anyway? It was going well at the beginning, right?”

Martius let out a grunt as he took a swig of his drink. “Readings were all in acceptable range. Then in a second there was a massive spike and Harker began to seize. Once you made it very clear I wasn’t going to be helpful after I gathered your potions, I went back to review the data. And there was a lot in that one moment.”

He paused to give Lynn a moment to ask anything and to wet his throat. When she gave no query, he continued, “If my interpretation of it is correct, Harker experienced several minutes worth of inputs, which I don’t think was the reason for things going badly. I think some **** attacked him. Tore into his psyche. The shock from that set off his condition and you know the rest.”

“What the hell did that girl run into?” Lynn wondered. The idea of Beth running into something that could tear her mind to pieces left her feeling cold and she was reaffirmed of her decision to isolate her from the Abyss, even if she hated her for it.

Martius shook his head. “Won’t know that until he wakes up. If he wakes up. Mental magics are far from my areas of expertise and I barely got the machine to its current state.”

Lynn let out a hum. “So we just wait and hope for that, huh?”

“Well, we could pray, I suppose,” Martius remarked with a dry chuckle. “But since I don’t think either of us are the overly devoted type, we have to make due with what we can reach for with our own hands and skills. I’ll see if any of my colleagues can be of help. And I think you should get some sleep. Taking that many stimulants can’t be good for you.”

“It was only four doses,” Lynn dismissed his concerns, forcing herself back to her feet.

“I counted at least six,” the gnome countered.

“Six?” Lynn repeated as she lurched towards her room. “That can’t be right.”

Martius scoffed and muttered something, but Lynn was too tired to care. She staggered into her small room, just a bed and a small table. Her phone lay atop the table, and for a moment, Lynn considered checking it. But the allure of the bed was too strong and she collapsed into it, falling asleep mere moments after hitting it.

---

Talgi hurried as best she could as she ambled up the winding paths to her granddaughter's domicile, her pale blonde hair flowing past her pointed ears as if a strong wind was about her. While her stride was full of purpose, her thoughts were less certain.

'What sort of dark sorceries are those blasphemers enacting?' she wondered, thinking back to the vision she and Celin had been drawn into. In her life, she had never expected to be face to face, in a manner of speaking, with the Usurper, and while she had resisted his lazy probe of her mind, the contact had left her feeling unclean.

She **** herself to work past the revulsion and focused on the one not evil part of the experience she felt, the unknown man that had stood up to the Usurper, even if only for a moment.

'His presence wasn't familiar, yet he had the unmistakable touch of our magic. Is he part of some isolated group that has avoided the purges?'

Many more questions raced around her head but she hoped the upcoming meeting with their patron would shed some light upon things. But for that meeting, she needed Celin.

She slowed as she neared the vine covered entrance to Celin's personal space and rapped her staff against the wood.

"Granddaughter, we have been summoned," Talgi said, her words setting off a flurry of movement beyond the viney veil.

The vines were soon parted and the blonde framed visage of Celin's face poked out.

"Summoned?" she asked, her voice carrying a hopeful note. "You mean?"

"Yes, child," Talgi cut her off. "Lady Yerda has called for us."

Celin's fair features brightened more than the summer sun cutting though the clouds and she all but flung herself onto the walkway. Her hasty exit nearly caused her to trip, but the twisted wooden prosthetic she had in place of her left arm flashed with pinkish purple light growing with incredible speed and grabbed hold of a nearby branch, letting her remain on her feet.

"What are we waiting for?" she asked as her arm drew back to its regular proportions and adjusted the red scarf she wore around her neck. "This must be about the thing that happened to us earlier. I’m sure our Lady must know what it was all about.”

Celin took off towards the upper canopy, towards the shrine hidden amongst the red and orange leaves.

‘At least she’s unburdened by what we experienced,’ Talgi thought as she took off after her energetic granddaughter. The distance wasn’t too great, as they lived near the shine as befitting their station as Yerda’s emissaries, but as she had been tending to matters up and down their conclave both before and after the vision, her strength was beginning to wane and she leaned heavily on her staff.

Still, she maintained the facade of calm grace as she reached the entrance of the shrine, thankful that Celin hadn't barged in like a summer storm. Her impatient heir stood before the grown arch, fidgeting with the hem of her tunic.

"I see at least some of my lessons took root," Talgi said. "Though it seems some need to be planted again."

"I'm sorry, grandmother," Celin muttered, her head quickly bowed. "But it's been so long since we had a proper audience, and I thought making her wait would reflect poorly on us."

"You forget that the forest didn't grow in a single season," Talgi sagely remarked. "All things take time and hastening them can lead to unseen problems. You nearly tripping right out of your chamber, for instance."

Celin's fair cheeks flared red, nearly hiding the red lines that crossed under her eyes. Talgi's matching set wrinkled as she smiled at her granddaughter to put her at ease.

"Now, however, we are here and keeping our patron waiting while we chat at her threshold is an insult. So, let us enter."

Celin nodded and held herself back as Talgi walked into the shrine, bowing her head as she did. The air around her changed as she crossed into the sparsely decorated room and she felt the tiredness fade from her, her posture reflexively straightening.

"Ah, Telgi and Celin," a kind voice spoke, drawing both of the elves' attention to the altar at the back. Under the faint yellow glow of the dawn bells that grew down from the ceiling, their patron, Yerda, slightly adjusted the placement of one of the relics that adorned the plain altar. She turned to face them; her elderly face, usually one creased with a smile even in the darkest times, bore a contemplative expression.

Celin dropped to one knee and locked her eyes on the floor. "How may we serve, honored goddess?"

Telgi and Yerda both sighed and the goddess bade the younger of the two to rise.

"I believe I've told you that you need not bow to me," she said, before a small smile broke upon her face. "Or do I have to make it a decree?"

Flushed pink, Celin picked herself up, though she kept her gaze averted from the goddess.

"Zeal aside, Celin has a point, my lady," Telgi said. "To what do we owe our summons?"

"You know part of the reason," Yerda said, then shook her head, her gray hair swishing about her face, a few strands getting caught over the horns that sprouted from her brow. Wrinkled hands reached up to right her hair and she continued, “But I think such things should be said in the light. Come, come.”

Yerda waved an arm and the wall to the side of the altar shifted, parting to reveal a passageway. She led them down the short hall, her steps slow but steady. With another wave, the wall at the end opened, letting in the fading light of the day. They emerged onto a balcony of woven branches, grown perfectly to line up with the setting sun. The light perked up Yerda whose gait gained some renewed vigor as she walked to the edge, arms stretched out.

For a moment, Talgi imagined Yerda not as she presently was, but how the stories of the time before the Usurper depicted her, as a great dragon, green as the summer leaves, basking in the Great Clearing. But then Yerda let her arms drop and she turned around to face them, her expression drawn.

“No point in delaying things,” the goddess said with a heavy and weary sigh. “Things are moving and the long autumn is soon to end.”

The words struck the elves to the core. After Yerda’s defeat at the hands of the Usurper, she had declared the summer ended and the long era of their exile and persecution began. Telgi swallowed and spoke in a grim tone, “Then the winter is to follow, correct?”

Yerda nodded, but before she could say anything, Celin interjected, “But that means the spring comes after.”

A reproachful glare from Telgi silenced Celin and Yerda said, “Indeed it may, but it would be a spring in a new forest, and not a second one for me.”

The words hung heavy in the air, even the sounds of the forest seemed to die away at that revelation. Then Celin sputtered out, “W-what do you mean?”

With a kind smile, Yerda answered, “My end has been long coming, but I did not know how it would be until today. You weren’t the only ones to experience a vision.”

“I didn’t sense you in the one we were subjected to,” Telgi said.

“What did you sense, beyond the Usurper?” Yerda asked.

“Aside from him and Celin, I could only distinctly make out one other, though I know more were present,” Telgi reported. “That one was a youthful man, with an unusual presence. He bore the mark of our magic, but I could not place him among our ranks.”

“That is because he is not from Amarlis,” Yerda noted.

“An outsider?” Celin exclaimed in disbelief.

Yerda nodded. “Indeed. It seems that forces far beyond this Kingdom are moving. And if things remain on the path begun, they will come and the winter will follow.”

Telgi remained quiet as she thought back to her teachings.

“‘After the Usurper drove us from the defiled capital, a figure from his past came, trying to dissuade him from his course,” she recited. “‘And when that failed, he left, taking with him the means for any to venture into or from Amarlis.’”

“Indeed, to keep the corruption from spreading, we were cut from the greater Abyss,” Yerda affirmed. “And some with dark intent are trying to undo that.”

“They want the Usurper’s power,” Celin presumed. “Then why don’t we let them fight? Have them and the Treacherous wear themselves out and then we can take back Amarlis.”

“Amarlis will not survive such a conflict,” Yerda said with her head cast low. “The poison has too long seeped into the roots. Even if both are wiped clear, the damage is done. Amarlis will wither away.”

Telgi looked out to the horizon, to where a thin blackened strip of land was just barely visible. The rot of the Usurper spread out, growing ever closer.

Celin, unable to remain still, began to pace. “So what? We just wait until the end of the world?”

“I did say that spring could come again,” Yerda replied. “The man you encountered in your vision is the same one I met in my own. He is blessed by the Highest Star, and if his path remains entwined with those who seek entry, he will come and the seeds planted will open a way to a new spring.”

Thanks again for reading this little story. If you liked the chapter, please hit that thumbs up, and if you want to support my writing, check out my Patreon at https://www.patreon.com/ScrapCrow. Get access to my chapters before they’re published here and join my private Discord.