Book 8 Chapter 15

Joan stared nervously at the door. She really thought all of this would be a lot harder, that she’d have to spend days figuring out what spell she needed or how to get it to work.

Yet it had been incredibly easy and all they’d need was for one of the Chosen, likely Korgron, to power it up with her magic.

Now all she had to do was wait for the Chosen. Again. It didn’t feel right, though. She felt… wrong. The final battle was coming, everything had led to this point. She felt she should be working now, not just waiting. If ever there was a time for her to be working, this was it.

Yet… she was pretty sure everything she could do she had done. Though, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there were others doing things as well. Vivian and Bauteut were certainly up to something. It was almost like they were avoiding her and she’d seen the pair of them sending letters out all day. She suspected they were planning the ‘victory’ party.

Oh, Joan really hoped she could attend it.

The Chosen could be back any moment. Then she’d be off. She ran a hand along the pommel of her sword, checked all of her gear once more and ensured the spell storing gem was still on her.

Yup, she was all ready. So there was really only one thing she could think to do now. Just in case she didn’t survive this.

Nervously Joan reached out to knock on the door, only to stop.

Imp didn’t really know who she was. Imp couldn’t know who she was. It wasn’t like they had some great, grand history. She’d just been someone who’d impacted the Hero’s life. Someone who she’d never really had the chance to know. Someone the fates had set on a course to meet him.

Even Joan wasn’t sure why Imp was so important to her. Maybe it was a desire to protect everyone she saw. Or maybe it was that the girl obviously needed… someone to look after her. Maybe she just felt guilty for never finding out what happened to her.

Imp had never met the Hero, at least not in this time. Was that why she was in this state? What exactly had happened to cause this? She both desperately wanted to know and was terrified to know. Who cut off her horns? Why? Was it really that big a deal?

Joan took a deep breath before knocking on the door.

And then knocking again after a few minutes.

And then again. Was Imp not there? Was--

The door opened a crack and she let out a sigh of relief. “Imp? Are you--” Then she froze and nearly wretched. A hand moved over her mouth and nose, struggling to filter it out. “Are you okay?”

“You’re not Neia…” Imp said softly, her eyes lowered.

“I am not,” Joan said, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice. “I uhhhh… I just… ummm…”

The two stared at each other in silence for a few long moments before Imp glanced back into the room. “Do you want to come in?”

“If that’s okay,” Joan said softly. Though a part of her didn’t want to. She wanted to grab Imp and flee, then burn whatever was making that foul stench.

Slowly the door opened and she could see into the room. It didn’t take her long to find the source. First, the windows were covered. At least not with furniture this time, but blankets had been stuffed into them. Second, that blanket the demon was wrapped in was filthy and needed to be burned or, at least, boiled. Third, however, was the food. In the corner of the room there were a few plates of half-eaten food that had just been left to rot. Joan stared at them for a few moments before sighing. “Has Neia been here recently?” she asked.

“No,” Imp said before taking a seat on the bed, her eyes lowered. “We had an argument…”

“An argument?” Joan asked. She wondered if it would be a misuse of the powerful relics she’d been given to use the light elemental to pick up that mess. She didn’t want to touch it herself. She wasn’t sure anyone would.

“I don’t know,” Imp said softly.

“Really?” Joan asked.

“No,” Imp said before glancing back to her. “Neia says we have you to thank for this. Since you’re the daughter of the Chosen.”

“Oh, uhhhh, that’s not exactly it,” Joan said, before giving a few coughs. Okay, how could ANYBODY live like this? “Do you mind if I open a window?”

“Please don’t,” Imp said softly, cowering slightly.

Joan stared at her. “What happened to you?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Imp said.

Joan stared at her. Oh, something certainly happened. There was no way that anybody could be like this and be okay. “What were you and Neia fighting about?”

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“Nothing,” Imp said.

Joan glanced at the food in the corner. “How long ago was it?”

“I don’t know,” Imp said.

Joan gave a sigh. “Has anybody else been in this room since then?” She was given nothing but silence. She felt her ire start to rise, but kept her temper in check. “Have you asked anyone to come and take… that… stuff away?”

“N-no,” Imp said softly. “I don’t want to bother anyone. I can do it.”

Joan blinked and glanced towards Imp. Not bother anyone? That mess was far, far more of a bother than anything else she could do. “Okay, that’s it. We’re going.”

“G-going?” Imp asked.

“We’re going out. Away from this, nobody should live like this,” Joan said. “I’ll send someone to clean it, or maybe see if they can get you into a different room.”

Imp didn’t object, but didn’t make any move towards the door either. She just hung her head.

Joan gave another sigh before she walked towards her, reaching out to take her hand… Only for the demon to recoil from her as if she tried to attack her.

Joan froze, her eyes going wide. She then, slowly, pulled her hand back. Imp was staring at her like she was a monster, terrifying and violent. “I…” Joan said, but the words wouldn’t come out.

She didn’t have any idea what to say. She didn’t know how to help with this, how to fix any of this. Imp was damaged in a way she, frankly, just didn’t understand. She wanted to help, but couldn’t. She shook her head finally before turning to leave. A small part of her hoped that Imp might try to stop her, ask her to stay.

But she wasn’t surprised when the demon didn’t.

Joan couldn’t fix this, she didn’t know how.

------

“Huh. It’s that bad now?” Neia asked with a soft sigh. Unlike Imp’s room, hers was quite a bit cleaner. No food, the windows were open and the elf looked slightly tired but not distressed.

“It is,” Joan said softly. “Is there a way to…”

“Fix it? Not sure,” Neia said with a shrug. “Believe it or not, though, she’s doing better.”

“I don’t,” Joan said softly.

“Imp is a mess,” Neia said. “Still not entirely sure what happened to put her in this state, but she’s improving. I was hoping she might be doing a little better if I just made her stand on her own two feet for a little bit. But apparently she’s just falling back again…” A hand moved up to gently rub her forehead.

“What happened to her?” Joan asked. “Why is she like this?”

“Terrible people,” Neia said. “Cultists. I can’t say what they did to her, or why they did it. How she escaped. Honestly, all I can really see is the after effects of what they did to her. And what a mess those effects are.”

“Is she ever going to be okay?” Joan asked.

“I don’t know,” Neia said. “Maybe one day she will be. It takes a lot longer to fix something than it does to break it.”

“Can I ask you something?” Joan asked.

“Would it stop you if I said no?” Neia asked. “You don’t strike me as the ‘accepting no answer’ type.”

“Okay, fair,” Joan said. “Why are you helping her? It can’t be easy, can it?”

“No idea,” Neia said.

“What do you mean, no idea?” Joan asked.

“No idea,” Neia said with a shrug. “She’s just… Imp. I shouldn’t help her. But from the moment I saw her, I just… couldn’t not help her. She’s broken, she’s hurt, she needs someone. And I guess I just couldn’t let her go keep being broken. Sometimes you just want to help someone even if you know it’s a bad idea. Not that you’d know anything about that.”

Joan’s cheeks turned a little red. “I have no idea what you… okay, I know exactly what you mean. Been talking to Bauteut?”

“Lil bit,” Neia said, crossing her arms and smirking at her. “We’ve exchanged stories, now and again. Share advice. I considered the whole swaddling thing.”

Joan gave a light groan, her cheeks burning now. “She told you about that?”

“Oh, yes,” Neia said with a light snicker. “She’s silent about a lot of things, of course. But apparently you’ve got quite the reckless streak about you. Just because you’re the daughter of a Chosen doesn’t mean anyone expects you to live up to their feats.”

“Yeah,” Joan said sheepishly.

“Though, I imagine being a seer has a bit to do with what makes you push yourself so hard,” Neia said with a soft sigh. “I can’t imagine what kind of horrible things you’ve seen if you’re half as driven as the rumors say.”

Joan gave a nod. “It’s… not been pretty. Can, ummm… can you check in on Imp? Today? Please? Or… at least… get her out of that room so someone can clean it?”

Neia gave a soft, exhausted sigh before nodding. “I’ll try. She can be kind of… a handful sometimes. I’d really consider the swaddling thing, but I’m worried she’d do more damage to herself if she was restrained than if she wasn’t.”

Joan gave a small nod. “I can see--”

‘Joan,’ Korgron’s voice echoed in her head, making her stand up straighter.

‘Yes?’ Joan asked.

‘We’re almost there. Be ready,’ Korgron said a moment before the connection faded.

Joan gave a small, timid smile to Neia. “I uhhh. I gotta go. Busy time. I’ll see you later, okay?” she asked before turning to leave. She did stop halfway to the door, wanting to ask one last question. If cultists had done that, if they’d caused poor Imp to be like this, why? What was their goal? She wrestled with the question for a moment before just giving in. “Do you know what the cultists had wanted with her, anyway?”

“Not entirely sure,” Neia said with a shrug. “Something nasty, I imagine. From what she told me they thought she could bring someone called Ifrit to them. But Imp isn’t exactly the best source of information either way.”

“No, I imagine not,” Joan said before walking out the door. Weird, that name sounded somewhat familiar. Eh. It probably wasn’t important. She had a world to go save!