The Silver Sphinx

 

“What is gone is not lost. It merely changes its location.”

planar saying

 

 

Fourth Void Day of Mortis, 126 HR

 

Rakalla stood at one of the workbenches in her laboratory, the light filtering dimly through narrow windows, refracting in the glass of the carefully labeled vials that filled every available shelf. Krixxi and Figaro were present, as were Haer'Dalis, their new friend Síkhara - and, to the medusa's astonishment, the decuria of the Harmonium. The half-elf Amariel, with whom they had tracked down and hunted the shadow thieves. Her superior, the impressive leonin Runako Fireheart, had actually allowed her to continue the collaboration in order to find out how to return the shadows and the soul fragments attached to them to the victims of the thefts. Rakalla had to admit that she had been surprised. She hadn't expected such pragmatism from a prefect of the Hardheads. But apparently he had meant it when he had said that it was worth something that they had shed blood and risked their lives together.

Of course, Krixxi had said cheerfully. He's a paladin. And a leonin! No one can argue with that. The goblin woman seemed to have a certain fondness for paladins and when Rakalla had asked her about it, she had explained that it was because of someone named Kanoro. He was apparently also a leonin paladin, and Krixxi seemed to think very highly of him. Sometimes the medusa envied the Xaositect for her carefree nature. Although a member of a faction of Sigil, Krixxi seemed to mostly judge the individual, not a person's faction affiliation, philosophy, beliefs or faith. And in a way, that made her freer than most of Sigil's inhabitants. It was a tempting idea, an appealing thought - and yet Rakalla couldn't really share it. She was quite suspicious of others because of their faction choices. Of most Hardheads, for example. But even she had to admit that Síkhara had made a wise decision in trusting Amariel. Alone, they would not have been able to fight the arrogant Illuminated and put a stop to their activities. Now they had the opportunity to right the wrongs that had been done. Rakalla certainly enjoyed entropy, otherwise she would not have joined the Doomguard. But despite her name in the Prophecy, she was not a Ravager, but an Observer, and the Illuminated's theft of shadows and souls went too far in her eyes. This was an artificial acceleration of entropy that neither she nor Haer'Dalis liked.

Now one of the crystals they had recovered from the now-destroyed temple lay on the table in front of her. Its interior glowed, albeit just faintly, as if the soul fragment inside had learned to keep still. Haer'Dalis stood next to her with his arms crossed, staring at the crystal so intently as if he could snatch the stolen shadow from it just by eyeing it. Across from them, Amariel held a thin book, its pages filled with handwritten notes, supplemented with annotations in several colors of ink. Krixxi sat on a stool, her legs dangling, spinning a small lens between her fingers, while Figaro stood on the workbench, quietly drumming his mechanical leg's claws on the wood. Síkhara leaned against the wall a short distance away, arms crossed, alert as always.

Rakalla carefully picked up the crystal in front of her between her thumb and forefinger. This one was neither large nor particularly clear. Its surface was streaked with fine inclusions, tiny irregularities that flickered and faded in the glow of the laboratory's light crystals. It had taken about a week to figure out how to free the imprisoned shadows from the crystal shards. And it had been a very intense week, during which they had all slept and eaten very little. Together with Haer'Dalis and Amariel, Rakalla had consulted ancient writings, combed through obscure treatises and searched arcane and alchemical manuals and encyclopedias for information. The archives of the Harmonium had contributed more than the medusa had expected, and Amariel's knowledge as an anointed knight had proven invaluable. The half-elf had found hints to consecration rituals that had to do with binding. This discovery had provided a crucial clue. Krixxi and Figaro, in turn, had used one of their devices to identify important connections between the structure of the crystals and their resonance. In the end, they had understood what the Illuminated had done. The crystals were not prisons, as initially assumed. At least not permanently. They were a kind of anchor, intended to hold the shadows for a while, a storage device to temporarily preserve something and then pass it on. The Illuminated had tapped some of the crystals in the old temple to create the shadow monstrosity. But Rakalla suspected that this was not the real reason why they had stolen the shadows. All their research had finally led them to the conclusion that the shadows would find their way back to their owners if they were released. The soul fragments, however? That was another question.

Rakalla carefully placed the crystal shard back on the table. “So,” she said. “We agree?”

“We'll release the shadow from the crystal,” Amariel confirmed. “But without destroying the crystal. We'll open it.”

“And we'll stop as soon as something feels wrong,” Figaro added.

Krixxi nodded, unusually calm and serious. “That's how we'll do it.”

When it was clear that everyone agreed, Haer'Dalis walked over to Síkhara. “He should arrive soon, right?”

“Yes, it's almost time,” replied the blood hunter. “I'm meeting him over there, at the closed cobbler's shop.”

 

 

She was referring to the githzerai Zramag, the Signer who had originally commissioned her to find his stolen shadow. The plan was to release the shadow from the crystal while Zramag met with Síkhara outside. Meanwhile, Haer'Dalis would watch from the window to see if the shadow returned to its owner. The blood hunter took one last look back at Rakalla, then opened the door and stepped out into the narrow alley in front of the laboratory. The sounds of the city drifted in, muffled: voices, footsteps, the distant clang of metal, the fluttering of an imp's wings - Sigil as it always was, undeterred by what was about to happen.

Rakalla waited until Síkhara had closed the door, took a deep breath and then turned to the crystal. She sensed that the silence in the room had changed, as if everyone were unconsciously holding their breath.

“Good,” she said resolutely. “Then let's begin.”

Amariel nodded and glanced at the book. She seemed calm, but Rakalla knew that look by now: the half-elf was alert and ready to react if anything went wrong. Krixxi slid off the stool and climbed onto a chair right next to the workbench. She carefully adjusted a device with several lenses that would focus the light in a special way and direct it to the shard. Then she gave Figaro a signal, and the rooster activated a purple light crystal. The top lens caught the rays, directed them to the next one, and that one in turn to another. With each lens, the light became more focused, more intense in color, denser, more concentrated.

Krixxi adjusted one of the lenses again. “Now it looks good. The beam is stable and the crystal is not reacting defensively.”

Rakalla nodded and carefully lifted the shard with a small pair of pliers. For a moment, it seemed to become heavier, as if it did not want to let go what it was holding captive. But perhaps that was just her imagination. The medusa took a deep breath, taking in the familiar smell of metal, glass and alchemical substances in her laboratory, the crackling of the lamp behind her, the quiet breathing of the others. Amariel quickly pushed a flat bowl containing a bluish liquid under the crystal, and Rakalla put it back down. It was a concoction of white pearl dust, ghost lily extract and couatl tears, intended to make the crystal more receptive to the process ahead. Amariel had discovered this fact through her research and had also procured the rare ingredients. Rakalla had to admit that it had been quite helpful to bring in an anointed knight. As soon as the crystal shard was moistened with the solution, it began to shimmer in a soft blue light.

The medusa looked over at Haer'Dalis leaning against the window. “Is the githzerai there yet?”

“He just arrived,” confirmed the bard. “Síkhara greeted him and is talking to him now. The poor guy seems a little ... tense.”

“No wonder,” Amariel murmured. “Then let's hope he gets back what was stolen from him.”

Rakalla nodded, then dripped her own alchemical concoction onto the crystal, a mixture of manticore venom and Gehenna thistle oil. Almost at the same moment, Krixxi pushed another lens in front of the collimated light ray. And sure enough, the crystal reacted. A barely audible crackling filled the room, as if glass were breaking underwater. The violet ray briefly lost its acuity, as if someone had shifted the focus. Figaro realigned one of the lenses to stabilize the ray. Once again, a soft crackling filled the room, so gentle that it sounded more like a breath.

“It seems to be working,” Amariel said quietly.

 

 

Rakalla nodded in agreement. Through the specially prepared magnifying glass with which she was observing the shard, she saw the resistance in the crystal's structure diminishing. She knew that this was the state the Illuminated had used. But the shadow thieves had bound something. They wanted to release something.

“Síkhara and Zramag seem to be waiting now,” Haer'Dalis reported from the window. “They are standing quietly next to each other, but they aren't talking anymore.”

The medusa carefully dripped a little more of her concoction onto the crystal, and Krixxi pushed a final lens into place. Then the shard glowed and another crackling sound could be heard. Something detached itself from within, not with a jerk, but fluidly, almost like ink spreading in water. The stolen shadow. At first it was formless, a swirling cloud fraying at the edges. But then it gradually took shape, a humanoid form with a head, two arms and two legs, thin, almost gaunt. For a heartbeat, the shadow stood in the room on its own, a silhouette without a bearer, and Rakalla feared it would attack, as the other shadows had done.

But to everyone's relief, it glided towards the window. Haer'Dalis quickly stepped aside, but did not open it, so as not to attract the attention of the githzerai outside. They knew by now that closed windows were no obstacle to shadows. But Rakalla noticed something else ... The soul fragment trapped in the crystal together with the shadow was also breaking free. With her special gift, which according to the Prophecy made her the Destroyer, the medusa could perceive this. Souls took the form of black, white and gray silhouettes to her, and this small fragment had the shape of a plant. It resembled ivy, as far as Rakalla could tell: small, jagged leaves, sharp-edged like tiny paper cutouts.

“I see it,” she whispered. “The soul fragment. It's also moving towards the street, just like the shadow.” She walked round the workbench and cautiously approached the window to take a look outside, carefully making sure not to get too close to the shadow or the soul fragment.

Outside, Síkhara stood facing the githzerai. The alley was narrow, the sky just a gray strip between the walls. Zramag's shadow glided towards him, not hastily, but like something that had been away for a long time and was now finding its way home. The Signer didn't seem to see it, as he had his back to Rakalla's laboratory, but the medusa could tell from the blood hunter's gaze that she was well aware of it. The shadow glided silently to Zramag's side and then stopped, still and motionless again. At that moment, the githzerai took a sharp breath. His hands trembled, and when he raised them and looked at them, he realized that they were casting a shadow once more. Certainly for the first time in a long while. He closed his eyes. Then he opened them again and said something to Síkhara, reaching for her hand in a gesture of thanks.

Rakalla, however, focused on what only she could see: the soul fragment. It also wandered out onto the street, through the closed window, just like the shadow. But the trail of gray ivy leaf silhouettes did not lead to Zramag. Instead, it floated past him, down the alley towards the Armory. Soon, Rakalla could no longer see it. So the shadows returned, but the soul fragments did not ... Yet the githzerai did not seem to notice. He seemed happy enough to have his shadow back and handed Síkhara a small pouch, surely payment for the successfully completed job. The medusa looked at the crystal on the workbench. Only a faint glow was to be seen, gradually fading. What remained was silence. Rakalla eyed the burnt-out shard and knew that they had not repaired anything today. But they had released something that should never have been held captive. That had to suffice.

Síkhara said goodbye to Zramag. He smiled as he turned into the next alley and his shadow moved with him. The blood hunter watched him briefly, then turned and walked back to the laboratory. When she entered, the fire genasi looked around the room for a moment, as if to make sure that the shadow was really no longer there, that it had stayed with Zramag, as it should.

Finally, she nodded. “He has his shadow back. It worked.”

“Partially,” Rakalla interjected. “Some things return. Others ... don't.”

Haer'Dalis also approached the workbench, looking thoughtfully at the now dark crystal. “The soul fragment?”

The medusa nodded seriously. “It's gone. But not back to Zramag. It ... how should I put it? It just floated down the alley until it disappeared from my perception. Unfortunately, I can't say where it went.”

Others might find it disturbing that she could see these things. That she could even access them if she wanted to. Rakalla recognized a certain uneasiness in Amariel's gaze when this topic came up. But Haer'Dalis clearly did not feel that way. On the contrary, he looked at her with undisguised enthusiasm. She smiled briefly at him, still unsure whether this was just the reaction of a good friend, another Observer who shared her philosophy ... or whether it meant more. But as so often, it was not the right time. Rakalla cleared her throat and quickly turned her gaze back to the workbench, to the extinguished crystal shard, Krixxi and Figaro's complicated light-focusing apparatus and the glass bowl in which her and Amariel's tinctures were now mixing.

“At least now we know,” Figaro said matter-of-factly. “Amariel, Krixxi and I could take care of extracting the next shadow. So you could follow the soul fragment. Maybe you can find out where they're going.”

Rakalla's gaze met Amariel's. “Do you agree to that? Should we extract all the shadows - and thus also the soul fragments - from the crystals?”

The half-elf nodded. “Prefect Fireheart has given me the authority to make this decision. And I think it’s the right thing to do. Let’s set them free.”

“Good, then we will return them. ... The shadows, at least.” Rakalla opened the box containing the remaining crystals, and a blue glow filled the room.

For a moment, they all just stood there, united by something that felt liberating, but still couldn't really be celebrated. After all, out there, a githzerai had his shadow back. And in here, Rakalla knew she could interact with soul fragments without damaging them. Destroyer or not, that was worth something.

 

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The leonin paladin Kanoro mentioned by Krixxi was played by my husband (Naghûl's player) in a family pen-and-paper group in which I played Krixxi.