The Black Hellblade

Chapter 4: Crystal Clairvoyance

Sensing the woman's immense power, Ronan noticed the silver snake tattooed onto her arm. It glimmered in the lantern's light. Beneath the snake were 12 tally marks, and if she had achieved Serpent Rank 12 on only one arm, that meant she was significantly stronger and more attuned to magic than Titanoboa. Ronan dare not look at the sorceress' other arm. He'd never been alone and trespassing before somebody so strong, and he knew he was not in the good grace's of the occupants of the temple.

Ronan swallowed and said, “Sorry, Sorceress Yvette. I've been struggling to access my magic and hoped to find a book that would help me unlock my abilities."

Yvette's smile grew and she said, “It was in your favor to not lie to me. I've been watching you each night, young Ronan. 74 days in a row you've entered here, and you've read twice as many books."

Ronan remained silent, his knees shaking. He gave Yvette a small nod.

“How do you purify a pond tainted by a Naiad?" the sorceress asked, leaning close enough for Ronan to smell her breath. It carried the scent of blueberries and daffodil flowers.

Amazingly, Ronan knew the answer. He'd read about the water nymphs, the Naiads, the monsters that resembled attractive women who would drown any man who was lured to the body of water the Naiad controlled.

Ronan cleared his throat.

“Don't be so shy," Yvette told Ronan, reaching a long nail to his cheek. Ronan trembled and inched his face away.

“Tell me," the sorceress repeated, “do you know how to remove a Naiad from a pond?"

Ronan cleared his throat. “Yes ma'am. You could poison the water with dead fish, which would lead the Naiad out onto land, and it would perish on land."

Yvette beamed at Ronan's response, and for the first time her teeth showed through her smile. Ronan gulped when he saw how razor sharp her fangs looked.

“Is there anything else you could do?"

Ronan nodded uniformly. “Yes, Sorceress Yvette. According to 'Drowned by Water Monsters Volume III' by Lilisard Venirore, a Naiad can also be slain by draining the water it lives in. And like many monsters that share features with humans, should you be fast enough, you could strike a Naiad down with a sword."

Ronan caught his breath and added, “But it would be quite the challenge, since the Naiad could bind your feet to the mud near its water."

Again, Ronan caught the scent of daffodil flowers when the sorceress' sharp teeth moved to say, “It would seem you've got quite the memory, Ronan. I'm sure that with the way you are harassed, that's both a gift and curse."

Ronan blinked at the frightening woman in shock.

No one had ever sympathized with him before and it left him nearly speechless.

“Yes, Sorceress Yvette," he stammered. “Unkind words are temporary, but knowledge is permanent. I intend to use what I've read to grow my strength and magic and do good in the world, like the heroes in the books have done."

“A noble goal," Yvette said with a dazzle to her eyes. “And one I actually believe."

She led the sharp fingernail on Ronan's cheek to the young man's chin, then clutched his face in her hand. Ronan remained paralyzed, and Ronan suspected that from the strange feeling in his stomach, it wasn't just fear keeping him frozen in place, but magic. Without his control, his arm bearing his snake tattoo raised upwards, and the sorceress inspected it.

Yvette traced the tip of her cutthroat fingernail along the serpent tattoo, then poked Ronan's arm right in the snake's stomach, though only enough for the smallest bit of blood to flow onto her fingernail. Seemingly out of thin air, she produced an airy, purple crystal ball in the hand that now had Ronan's blood on it. She licked the red blood off her fingernail, and the purple mist inside her crystal ball turned the same color as Ronan's prickled blood. The crimson colors swirled inside the crystal ball and Yvette held the orb close to her eyes, her lips shaping into the same serpentine smile she'd shown Ronan moments ago.

A tiny dab of blood trickled down Ronan's arm, and Yvette let go off his face and swept the same hand over the wound. As if he hadn't been bleeding at all, the wound sealed and Ronan's arm dropped to his side.

Yvette nodded, directing her gaze from her crystal ball to Ronan.

“I see now," she whispered, her red eyes shining. “You suffer from The Shroud."

“The Shroud?" Ronan questioned, touching a finger to where he had been bleeding seconds ago. His serpent tattoo glowed a dim and dark light. “What is The Shroud?"

Yvette slipped deeper into the darkness. Ronan watched her teeth maintain a pearly smile as she stated, “It would appear, dear Ronan, that you are one of the few to be afflicted by The Shroud— and survive."

A chill ran down Ronan's spine, and he feared that as Yvette slowly moved away from him, he wouldn't get the answer he was looking for.

He raised his lantern outwards searching for the sorceress, and asked “What do you mean afflicted? What have I survived?"

But Yvette had already moved behind a bookshelf, and Ronan could barely see her ruby red eyes as she responded, “The Shroud is a curse cast upon special children. It's almost impossible for these children to access their magic."

Yvette laughed softly, as if very pleased, and continued, “But when and if these children are able to tap into their Essence, the results are incredible. You're too young to remember when I brought you to this temple. I knew when I found you as a dying urchin on the streets of Dampstone that you were unique. What I didn't know that my crystal ball has shown me this evening, dearest Ronan, is that you are destined for greatness."

Yvette's gentle laughter faded away, and with that all traces of her disappeared into darkness. From the bookshelf she had moved behind came her purple crystal ball. It rolled slowly on the wooden floor to Ronan and bumped against his toe.

In it, he saw himself, tall and strong and swinging a sword. On his arm was a huge, ornate serpent tattoo unlike any other.

He smiled wide, unable to believe himself capable of such strength, but grateful for the vision. He only hoped he could find a way to make it true. Ronan retrieved the crystal ball from the floor and inspected it. The image of himself completed a firm swipe of its sword, then disappeared. Ronan was filled with determination.

That was the man he would become, and he would stop at nothing to become him.

As if the crystal ball had a mind of its own, it leapt from his head and wacked him in the chest.

Suddenly, Ronan sat up in his bed. His tiny room was surrounded with delicious, piping hot foods he had only ever dreamt of, and his patchy wool blankets had been replaced with warm and cozy furs and fleeces. For a moment, he wondered if he had only dreamt of his encounter with Yvette, but on the small, uneven wooden table by his cot rested her purple crystal ball, empty of all visions.

Ronan checked the actual tattoo on his forearm. It was tiny, though it was glowing faintly, like the light from his dying oil lantern that sat perched on a hook by his cot.

Ronan graciously filled himself with meats, bread, and cheeses until he could eat no more. With a satisfactory grin, he silently thanked Yvette for all that she had done, and for believing in him. For once his stomach was full and he felt happy. His sore face reminded him how foreign smiling was. Ronan bundled up in a thick fur blanket and set his weary head on his pillow. He drifted into a peaceful rest.

Then the entire temple shook from an explosion.

Ronan heard the other Trainees down the corridor scream out in horror.