SLURP (Patreon)

I'm going to need another one of these to help me narrate the next part.

After everyone left, I spent the first day glued to my Mumble-Mug, waiting for Vernier to call.  Eventually she did, and informed me that they all got past the rabbits safely and had all gone their separate ways to start the rest of their lives.

The Ixies had gotten through too, mostly unscathed, and scattered after their mission was complete.  However, none of them returned to the stone circle in the forest.

Vernier and I established a time for her to call every evening, so I wouldn't have to sit around with the mug against my ear all day long.  (Somehow she knew that was what I had been doing.)

After a few calls we began to realize that the mugs were not very well made.  I could patch mine, but Vernier had no magickal skill - and my ability to repair the mug remotely without seeing it was very limited.  We decided she should use the mug less, to save wear and tear, and subsequently she only called me once a week.

I decided it would do me good to pass the time in prayer and meditation.  Getting back in touch with Fuma and honing my mind and spirit might help me better accept my fate and figure out why the Lady's Blessing of Luck had let things turn out so badly (or at least it seemed that way).  I did a little physical training too, to maintain the skills that Adoyret Sam had taught me.  I decided I might as well use this time to transform myself into the wise and strong Emperor I was always meant to be.

Honestly, a little solitude could only do me good.  Vernier had been a breath of fresh air, but all the other people I met recently were just a bunch of crazy weirdos.  This hiatus would be a refreshing pause.  I should think of it like a vacation, some much needed "me-time."  It probably wouldn't last very long, before some intrepid soul was lured here by tales of the mysterious White Elf.  My witches' amazing wishes were clear evidence of my power, and surely the rumor would spread...

Nobody came.

In one of her calls, Vernier informed me that she had married some lowfolk shlub and changed her last name to O'Dor.

She called a few more times but I don't remember much of what she said, partly because her mug was getting to be in pretty bad shape.

Finally the day came when she didn't call at her scheduled time.  She didn't call the next week, or the week after that.  How long had it been since she and my coven left, the day after the disastrous witch trial?  Was that event already a dimly-remembered piece of local history?  For all I knew, Vernier was an old crone, or she could even be dead by now.

I sat and thought about that for a while.

Eventually I decided there was no point in waiting for a call that was probably never going to come.  It would be best now to return to Faerie and let the time-slip eat up some of these interminably passing days.  I could also survey what was left of my domain.  Surely the lingering poison from the Plague of Battles had dissipated by now, and I could begin exploring - perhaps restoring - the ruins of Albric Tor.

I got up, crushed my Mumble-Mug to dust, and went through the Gate.  I climbed the stairs onto the porch of the scrying tower, and looked down over the railing where I had stood that fateful day.  The ominous fog was completely gone, but that meant I could clearly see the hundreds - nay, thousands of skeletons strewn across the field below.

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