The Ogre Strength Fairy and the Eldest 'Son'-Chapter 461 - Should Not Have Chosen To Be A Scout, All They Do Is Search!

"Ouras is a cult and a teaching. They are not good people."

Sevra explained freely to the other woman while standing up on her feet. She could tell that a number of the noblewoman’s forces had grown silently hostile just at the part that suggested *something* must not be freed at this location... at their Elder, the only other something who had been here. And now seemed to be having trouble focusing on the ’present’ moment.

"His Astralism must be Memory manipulation. If he’s skilled enough and someone with too weak of a spirit gets close, then he could *erase* a lot from a single person. Make them forget their own identities, their purposes - it does seem like a rather good idea to leave a taboo type of cultivator where he is, to me."

Aarengraf’s calm assessment produced only a dry rasp out of the one potentially being left to die. Not that he expected his kin would leave him, but getting back out of the North again in his state... without more help than just two ’youngsters’... was going to be a hard ask, he felt, as his mind sharpened once more..

"Tried... to wipe them... when they trapped me. Got three of the seven before they... before this formation suppressed my reach..."

Of course, sometimes he was just too proud of an individual - an couldn’t help but brag at holding his own even when he should shut up. Tarem thought as much as he carefully began wrapping him in his own fur. However, that extra weight seemed to be too much for the skin and bones great uncle, causing the younger man to sigh audibly.

’How do we pull him out without their help? What was I going to do by coming up here alone...’

"We’ll get you to safety somehow. Don’t worry."

Sevra was already considering if she could maybe use the Adhesion technique to climb out of the hole while holding onto him after the others left. But the man’s gaze sharpened and he looked into her eyes before his spirit blasted into hers. A Memory began to insert itself into her head. Voices talking - cultists, she was sure based on their words - and an insinuation that this set of moments was from about a year ago.

And all the while, Thelasi’s much more vibrant living tone of voice inlaid his own active commentary about what she was hearing. About what he had heard them bragging about for their final farewell.

"They found the reincarnator from the prophecy. But... no, it’s not the one I see you thought of in your own memories. I actually met that Goltbred child... I guess five plus five makes ten years ago."

"You met her already? Could you have not left a letter telling me so..."

"The point of working along is not usually to leave behind a trail. But I felt her spirit and what it was while passing through that city. A terrifying force that I shrunk my spiritual sense away from quickly. But she’s not what the Ouras followers seek."

Many of the higher tier Aspects tended to have effects so strong or generalized that mimicry of certain similar natured abilities was possible, if not inherent. Because the mind connected to another during the Memory techniques, it could functionally be used like a form of Telepathy.

"I see you’ve learned quite a bit about her yourself. You always could be so foolish and impulsive in some things."

"...I wonder where I get that from."

"Well, not from me. My brother, perhaps. And his father."

In between the private family reunion, she caught the celebration in the cultist voices. How they talked about one of their own nursing ’it’ back to health. How it was pulled... from the land of Acid and Obsidian. Sevra’s mental state wavered, knowing exactly where they spoke of... the Saltfire territory. Immediately, she also thought of that place with the solid black glass sheet she could not penetrate with her Walk - and that had filled her with dread when circumventing it.

"Interesting. You were so afraid of the wrong ancient cultivator, child. That girl you’ve been with... she’s dangerous, yes. Generally speaking all of them we kept the oral histories of are. But she’s not on their side. Her loyalties are so singular and antithetical to theirs that they’d never bend her to their cause."

The Memory of his he was sharing faded to black just as she heard a certain name from one of the speakers that shook her spirit. It then sparkled back into life in new forms. Her life flashed before her eyes, literally seeing supercuts of herself through another cultivator’s eyes. From baby, to learning to harness the three energies, and passing through all the assassin training.

She also saw each time he had taken memories from her that she didn’t remember having him take. He gave them back to her now, more burdens that was her right to bear... before it was too late. And the sound of her brother’s voice yelling roared in her ears as she was let go. As their Elders eyes drifted closed, consciousness finally failing him.

Tarem looked at his sister, with his body like a shield over his Elder against the weapons of the men who had been trying to stop whatever was happening. Then up at Lady Aarengraf who now stood right over the hole, too. Blood hovered around her axe from where it flowed, from the lip she’d bitten clean through. For she too had been ’taken’ into a Memory and talked to... and the implications settling over both women seemed dire.

"We need to move. Try and get him stable. If there’s an organization like that operating in my territory, my continent, my world... actively working toward some dark goal like... Restoration, pfah!"

She made an unladylike spitting sound at their chosen Old Tongue term and captured some more of the dark red substance in orbit. Her Element control was impeccable... and the assassin could already see what great use it could have on a human battlefield that might overflow with it. Just the idea that one could keep all their blood flowing right where it was with a bit of concentration, instead of rapidly draining out of wounds, was enviable to the Air cultivator who had felt the weakness of blood loss before. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

’Physical energy can do a lot, and stimulating production of more blood is one thing. But it is not blood itself, so bodily functions can be affected...’

These sorts of sentences were intoned in her head, sounding very similar to something Elua had lectured about randomly one day. But they were actually spoken by her trainer so long ago. Her head was a bit of a mess when it came to concentration, having had it fiddled with just now much more specifically and deeply than spiritualists were usually capable of. Part of her slightly scrambled thoughts even went on a tangent about bloodstain cleaning services for duelists.

But amid all that, one thing was sure to her as she reached down, grabbed her much too light relative, and vaulted quickly out of the hole without jostling him in the slightest. She could recall a lot of things that part of her knew was foreign knowledge, a legacy passed along by the Memory cultivators of her clan. They had a window of opportunity in the near future to prevent whatever disaster might come from ’it’ being brought back to full strength once more.

While her steps back up toward the horses were laced with Adhesion, she cradled her great uncle’s emaciated body against her chest. With respect, she laid him gently across the flank of the strong steed while arranging her furs over top of him. The wind howled higher up on the ridge, but no more than around her form. Despite that, Tarem’s hand risked the damage and found her shoulder with wet eyes.

"Sister..."

She looked to him steadily. All this time, Sevra had wanted nothing more than her search for Thelasi to finally be over.

"I know. But I’m not leaving him to rest in this cold place. He hated the cold. He never should have come here."

But now, her search for the merchant known as Teovar that the cultists exalted in the Memory would have to begin immediately. Pushing the Saltfire to explore deeper into that granted territory in the first place, offering maps and knowledge... his goal had always been one thing. Recovering the prophesized reincarnator, who had been in a form of hibernation much, much longer than her great uncle had managed.

And the great niece would grieve as slowly as she wanted to, when she wanted to.

⟠ ⟠ ⟠

The cave entrance on the southern coastline was barely visible. Even should the light not be failing to twilight, it was a hard place to find without knowledge and intent. Teovar stood beside it, in his gaudy clothing, with one hand resting on a mortal man’s shoulder... in all the false fellowship the merchant always used for dealing with his marks.

"Twenty paces inside, you’ll find the shelf I mentioned on the left. Set the container there and return. Simple work for what I’m paying you. Ah, if only my assistant didn’t run off, I wouldn’t have to make these sorts of dealings..."

The mortal clutched the sealed box, thinking of the cultivation aids waiting for his daughter... a rare child born to that opportunity from ’normal’ parents. He’d come this far with him, after talking within an alley of the portside market, despite his suspicions growing due to the distant location. Desperation, even more than apathy, could make people overlook what they might otherwise question.

He stepped into the Shadow of the cave and past the sigils that he had been told were meant only to keep cultivators out. It felt like the kind of natural place that might house bandits or wild beasts, but the path inward did seem clear and simple as he was promised. The only thing is, he would realize at twenty and twenty-five paces that no such thing as a shelf or any furniture existed.

Teovar counted silently, used to this already. When he guessed the man was around thirty paces in after starting to reach out and find where he was supposed to go... the first set of screams tumbled back through the entrance. Tinged with raw terror of realizing you were not alone - and what you were stuck inside with was not kind. Or small.

The second set of pitched sounds was different. Gurgling wet and shortened. Followed by the crunch of bone and other horrific noises. Raspy breathing that was as close to muffled pleasure as it could be. Something the cultist recognized as scales sliding back to rest on stone. But he didn’t flinch from any of it. Only paused before going back to the city to hunt for a few more to place his hand on the stone of the entryway.

"I will feed you all you need. Until you take Fate back into your own hands. Years. Decades. Millennia. For the Restoration."

Faith motivated the shady merchant, already composing the next kind of sales pitch to use when they moved to another city. After all, he was quite good at making deals and never getting caught by those who felt he had wronged them.