Return to Ulgrotha 4: Trauma
Where we see Ihsan
Onella's cathedrals stood tall since Serra was alive.
Even with the Baron's darkness they did not fall, but a stain came about them.
The old abbeys now were suffused with a dimmer light, as if fog clouded them. Here and there there were spots of gathered white light where the window glass focused them, and they were said to be especially pure and graceful, rich in white mana.
This was where Ihsan spent most of his days.
No longer alive, the shade did as shades do: stand still.
Haunting, some would say. In his case, he felt like a statue, as the faithful often came to say their prayers and revere him, albeit giving him a wide berth.
His corner wasn't even well-decorated and grandiose. It was a makeshift pondering junction at the stairs, a platform where he could be bathed in light. Allegedly in peace.
He, of course, had duties to attend to. Like waking from a slumber, the shade rose from his stance - "meditation" might be too generous a term - and walked down towards the war room. He did not step, he glided on ethereal mist, but it felt good to pretend.
There, the council was gathered. Human generals of the various provinces and cities of Aysen. Warrior angels, former knights prommoted to the most divine of being. His arrival silenced a banter and a commotion, the white air of death lingering as he took his place at his sit.
By his side was his confidant, Alanaira. The bearer of the ring, tightly packed beneath her glove.
"So..." Ihsan began, his voice like a chasm, except with a hint of pain, "The Koskun are in unrest as Eron nears the minotaurs, The Dark Barony keeps hiding in the far corners of the world, pitiful snakes as they are. And a new power rises amidst the townships."
"That is the gist of it, my lord."
"Our treaty with Eron shall remain honoured unless he tries to finally outstep his boundaries. Votes against?"
"None, my lord."
"The Barony's festering remains shall remain our priority, hunted far and wide and purged whenever we find them. Is this clear?
"Yes, my lord."
"And what of this new power?" Ihsan asked, attempting to sound comfortable but in practise giving a menancing wail.
"He is a werewolf, we think" an angel said.
"We think?" Ihsan asked.
"He is a flesh-twister, he can shape his body in ways even most werewolves cannot" a general confirmed.
"He is causing unrest... but against the Barony" Alanaira concluded.
"Then monitor him" Ihsan concluded, "That he kills Irini is of no concern to me, but I will not have another dark lord."
"From what we know of his rhetoric he seems quite against the Barony as a nation" a Dead Speaker bishop said, "Perhaps we should let them kill each other?"
"No" Ihsan muttered, "The risk of a new Sengir is too high. Let him kill her, but slay this beast once he serves his purpose."
"Yes, my lord."
"Besides that, there are also matters of the Academy and Autumn Willow's forces?" Alanaira said.
"What of it?" Ihsan asked impatiently.
"The Academy remains ever insular, but rumors speak of a new presence there" Alanaira continued, "We have to monitor this lest they undergo... reforms."
"Wouldn't be the first time, but your request is granted. Bishop, ready the shades."
"Yes, my lord."
"And, of course, there is Grandmother Willow, who seems interested in the werewolf."
"Mayhaps he's a plot for her 'balance'" Ihsan pondered, "Send her a message. I grow weary of her meddling."
"As you wish, my lord" a messenger angel said.
"You are all dismissed for now. I require further pondering on these matters, but in principle this is what you have to do. Understood?"
"Yes, my lord."
***
Ihsan went to another spot, further into the cathedral. Light shone brilliantly, tainted by the hues of church glass but still very white. Spirits, angels and shades flew about in the white mass, as if a living fog of many faces.
Ihsan thrived in quiet. He had plenty of it when the Baron slaughtered, when the Baron shelved him away. He was supposedly free, but he felt trapped in the light. And he indulged that feeling, for he deserved to be trapped, for he deserved to suffer for his arrogance to long ago, his bargain ill managed.
Wings fluttered, more solid than the angels in the light, and he knew Alanaira was behind him.
"My lord-"
"Am I your lord?" Ihsan said bitterly, "You haven't gotten rid of the ring."
He knew her wings dropped, and if he turned to see her she'd be sad.
"Ihsan, you know I'd never use it against you."
"You say that, but you haven't found a way to get me rid of it."
"Because you are a shade, and if I destroy this ring you will fade. You told me you wanted revenge, so I'm respecting your wishes."
Ihsan hated having that conversation again and again and again. But his mind was clouded. Alanaira had gone above and beyond for him, and yet he couldn't trust her, not with that ring in her finger.
"What if I change my mind?"
Alanaira was silent, but bowed.
"Your wish is my command, my lord. I will see to it that this ring is destroyed and our soul rests in peace."
Ihsan also knew an objection was forming in her throat.
"I just beg you not to. I know this is no way to live, but I can't bear to see you die. You deserve a knight's rest by Her side, yet I want you to keep on living. Am I selfish?"
Ihsan didn't sigh, but he wish he could.
"Yes. But I will not blame you. I know that I have returned to Her, but I'm scared."
"Twice would you return to her" Alanaira said, wiping some tears, "First when your soul died, then when you shade fades. You are a remarckable and noble man, serving Serra twice."
"And twice only."
He turned to face Alanaira, her stoicism marred by tears.
"I'm so tired, my angel. So very tired."
Awkwardly, the two embraced, a heatless embrace under a cold light.