Ulxurix has cleared out a bunch of her dentistry equipment from the centre of the room. Tools, books, objects arcane and mundane clutter the perimeter, making way for a sacred circle drawn within.
“I suppose your little friend enjoyed his souvenir,” Ulxurix says over her shoulder.
“Yeah,” is all Shyan can say. She gives a look to Abia, who remains stone-faced. “Look, can you help us, or not?”
Ulxurix whirls around, her tattoos alight with pulsing anger. “Have I not helped you enough? Did not I mend your friend’s mouth?”
Fassn grins and chomps happily at the air.
“Well, yeah, but this is bigger than that,” Shyan says. “Sorry Fassn.”
“Cang lich,” Abia says sadly.
Ulxurix falls silent, hangs her head. After a beat, she looks back to Abia, her eyes edged with tears. “It was supposed to be you.”
is there much to do left?
screaming woke us up
we won, but did we? sleepy yawns throughout the grey
missed the storm — next one comes quite soon
the feeling outrageous, the taste, ostentatious
takes me back to those thatched roofs
Townsfolk flee the storm. As Shyan, Fassn, and Abia emerge into the rain, doors and shutters slam around them. The gang hears fearful shouts, but the words are swallowed and crashes of thunder.
For a moment, lightning illuminates Ulxurix’s lighthouse, and across from it, the lich’s twisted castle. Shyan imagines Cang jauntily strolling up to it, ignorant of his withered body. She shakes the image away and leads her friends to the lighthouse, where she pounds upon the door with a gloved fist.
They wait a long time, trying not to jump at every crack of lightning. At last, the door swings inward of its own accord, and they step, dripping, into the tiny receiving room.
Ulxurix, her tattoos swirling about every inch of her flesh, and glowing with a serene yellow light, sits in a rattan chair, her fingers tented, patient. When her eyes land upon Abia, her face goes pale, and the light in her tattoos dims.
She stands, moves towards them, squinting. She says to Abia, “It was supposed to be you.”
back on the train while the rain keeps on falling
burning desire in back of my throat
a scratchy inflamed sort of bubbling sensation
struggling to name it as I start to choke
blow out the bullshit and call out the bosses
this is just one, then another