Chapter 116: Toy Maker
There was a hymn in the air as the man’s corpse lifelessly got to its feet.
It rang through the street like a sorrowful lie, shifting the snow into warmth and the coldness into familiarity. It glistened with the weightless breath of Lnd, touching upon his inner being until he felt at peace. His pain, his exhaustion, teetered away, resting his anguish wordlessly.
Something deep within the hymn churned, fluttering down past the horrid remains of the Harbingers’ battle. It drifted calmly through the ck fog and nightly sky, swirling around the deceased man who stood on his own two feet.
The lustrous power entered the body via mouth, swimming down its rxed throat as the dead muscles had yet to stiffen. Like a withering flower dying of dehydration, the hymn befell, twisting into a chant of immoral <em>fun.</em> A grim smile split the body’s face wide, the power uncaring of the blood that trickled from the Witch brand.
Two dark orbs took the ce of the man’s eyes, their darkness a far cry from the pure snow nketing the street. These orbs locked onto Lnd.
Instantly, the warmth in Lnd’s chest disappeared, rendering him limp and raw. He groaned, the illusion snapping in his mind like a harpoon bursting through a fish. He fell to his knees, the pain redoubling his exhaustion.
On his hand, his tattoo pped its wings and silently <em>cawed</em> for his attention, but Lnd’s splintered head was too jumbled.
“Funny mortals,” the dead body whispered, his voice thick with tar and oil, “you always surprise me.”
With Lnd’s silence, the body’s deep smile shifted into a heartless frown. The body continued, “I had ns for this one. A shame he died…”
Again, silence.
“What are you, mortal? A Harbinger, yes, but not one I am familiar with. Soul magic, crow summonings, bone… <em>magic? </em>What bastardized experiment are you?”
Lnd swayed on his knees.
The body sighed, rolling its dark orb eyes. A shallow, hollow power erupted from the body, sting into Lnd without reserve or reservation. “You will answer me, mortal.”
Wetness invaded Lnd’s lungs, overpowering the pain in his mind with fear. He gasped for air, straining like he was only inches from the water’s surface after a free dive. He iled for a moment, but his hand eventually started wing at his own neck as if to carve a new hole for air to travel.
That was when the malevolent body ended the effect.
“Answer me, boy, what are you?”
His mind reeling, his chest heaving, Lnd didn’t hear the question. He coughed up imaginary water until his eyes went bloodshot from the forces.
“Mortals are <em>so</em> weak.”
Power rushed from the body into Lnd again, this time warming and calming his spasming. The rankness of his lungs bruised over, along with a bite of relief over his fleeing thoughts. True consciousness grazed Lnd’s mind since the hymn first fell from the heavens.
“Good,” the body said. “Now then, who are you and why stop one of <em>mine?</em>”
Lnd didn’t make eye contact, not when two orbs of oblivion stared at him. “Y-you are the T-toy Maker?”
The body raised an eyebrow. “An image, yes. But that is neither here nor there. I asked you a question, and you will answer me.”
Lnd didn’t respond. How could he? He was in the presence of a vile Lord in the mortal realm. That was unheard of except in folktales and legend.
“Answer me!”
The shoutunched the snow from the street, creating a wastnd of frozen dirt and lifeless bodies. But the shout also cleared and bounded through Lnd. It removed the fog behind his eyes, it released the daze in his thoughts.
The situation dawned on him. It <em>truly</em> dawned on him. He was going to die. Death at the hands of a vile Lord didn’t seem like the worst way to go. At least there would be stories about the battle. Lnd versus a Toy Maker Harbinger <em>then</em> the Toy Maker himself!
As the Lord raged aboutck of answers, a hint of a smile pulled along Lnd’s lips.
The Harbinger controlled puppets, and, in his death, his body was turned into a puppet. Lnd saw the irony, and had a brief moment of rity. He found the one thing <em>more</em> ironic than a puppet master being turned into a puppet: a mortal killing a Lord.
Well, a mortal destroying a vile Lord’s puppet. Destroying an <em>image</em>, whatever that meant.
Lnd turned his attention to making said dream a reality. He looked to the soul of the Damned that held the lost soul of the Harbinger. Its ethereal hand was stretched out like a stone statue of a King’s most loyal knight. It would wait for all eternity if it must.
As Lnd took the lost soul from the soul of the Damned, the Toy Maker went silent. He watched with fascination, eyeing the movement like a scientist watching a rat move through a maze. He was always learning, even in divinity. After all, who knew what unique attributes he could add to his <em>toys</em>ter on.
But when Lnd’s grimoire spun directly in front of the mortal, the Toy Maker got an <em>itch.</em> Something was off.
“Stop that now or I will kill you.”
Lnd didn’t listen. Instead he muttered,
<strong>“</strong><strong><em>Dolls with hollow eyes forever cold,</em></strong>
<strong><em>marites whose strings forever told.</em></strong>
<strong><em>Wrath of the Toy Maker’s choir,</em></strong>
<strong><em>faith in burning Soul Fire.”</em></strong>
Eyes widening, the deity beckoned for his dark fog. The ck walls surrounding the street rushed to their Lord’s call. They gathered at his palm, mixing with blood and bile, instantly morphing into a proper <em>toy.</em>
All around, civilians gawked at the suddenck of dark fog. They looked out from their windows and the safety of their buildings, watching the remnants of war. There were only three who stood in the snow, those familiar friends and a begrudged mentor. Jude, Glenny, and the Huntress could only grunt in shock at the sight of Lnd and his attacker before sparks exploded from the man’s hand.
The Toy Maker fired his spell, sending waves of ravenous impunity. The sparks consolidated and hardened, forming an outstretched mangled and wicked hand. The hand postured like an arrow, its five sharpened nails pointed forward and deadly. It ripped across the now open street for all the town citizens to see. Not that any could, not even the Huntress, for it moved too fast.
The hand met with violet fire as the soul in Lnd’s hand ignited. It zed with a sh, heatless me bursting at the seams of reality. It hummed as it grew, burning away everything it touched. Screams of agony escaped, the soul’sst hurrah as it was destroyed for power.
The hand passed harmlessly through the fire, puncturing into Lnd’s shirt like a wide needle. It didn’t break skin, it didn’t draw blood.
Originating from his hand tattoo, a force of silver and purple red. With a single p of its wings, the crow tattoo battered away the hand, returning it and the vile energy it possessed.
Then, the Huntress finally took her first step toward Lnd.
The hand swerved mid-air, finding purchase and runching at the mortal only to be stopped again by a wave of purple and silver. The Toy Maker tried again and again, each time the crow tattoo blocking his assault.
“A <em>crow</em>?” he spit, his dark orb eyes never leaving the source. “Which are you?”
Lnd didn’t answer, honestly he didn’t even think the question was for him. Instead he pushed out with his ame palm, sending the curse off with nothing more than a gentle thought.
Soul Fire was for killing. That was the curse’s sole purpose. It destroyed at the cost of more destruction. It broke and burnt, it pounded and ground. It was a weapon that could kill Lords, it was a weapon that could kill souls. It was not something to be used lightly.
In all honesty, Lnd would rather have the option of using such a curse taken from him. He could live out the rest of his days perfectly happy with his other magic. But that wasn’t the case, and this decision wasn’t made with haste.
As the violet mes traveled through the air, Lnd made a promise to himself and those who cared about him. Soul Fire was <em>only</em> to be used on vile Lords and their Harbingers of chaos.
If that meant never using the curse past today, Lnd was fine with it. If trouble never found him, he would be happy knowing the curse’s use was no more. If he never progressed due to this decision, he wouldn’tin.
The reanimated body fell, the Toy Maker’s image having left the host body the moment the fire touched him. Violet fire consumed the body, turning all to ash while not melting the snow.
Lnd''s knees finally gave out and he fell, thest images of consciousness that of the Huntress, Glenny, and Jude rushing to him. He never hit the ground, caught just beforehand.
The Huntress turned to Glenny as she forced an <em>incredibly </em>high-grade healing potion down Lnd’s throat.
“Exin,” shemanded.