Furious Scribe
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32. Basil - Recovery
🕑 Added 2025-08-16 19:35:55 +0000 UTC
Chapter 32
Recovery
The room we found was in the lower levels, unassuming, and tucked away from the regular thoroughfares of the Palace. Within, stacked and forgotten, were small towers of furniture, draped in blue and gold throws that were caked so high in dust one would think the storage hadn’t been touched since the stones of the keep were first laid.
The three of us and the elite Souls we had kept summoned for protection had to angle ourselves when entering, lest we overturn the precarious arrangement and alert our enemies to our new location. But in the rear of the wedge shaped room there was space enough for us to shift things about, giving us a meager but sufficient section of flooring to stand and confer. Even better, a table was cleared for Esmi’s body to rest upon, and there were no windows, so little worry of someone discovering us when walking passed, even with the torches I lit using my Fire Source.
All in all, it suited our purposes quite well.
“Expertly done,” I told the Master Assassin, who had scouted ahead to find the hidey-hole. He gave me a tight nod and then left to watch the entrance without me even having to ask. He had been more than valuable as of late. Without his and Hull’s assistance – not to mention Azure’s, if I was giving credit where it was due – my victory over Felstrife would have been far less likely, if not impossible.
I flexed my hand, the image of her gripping my shirt still fresh, as was the feel of breaking her brittle fingers. There was a bone-deep satisfaction to the memory, but it was not something I could revel in at the moment. Not with the tasks that remained to us, and Atrea stolen. That vile necromancer had threatened to shatter her. I would shatter him if he –
I took a breath, keeping the rest of those thoughts at bay. ‘Focus on the cards in front of you, not the ones you wish you had.’ That mantra had been Tipfin’s, and for a wonder, it calmed me. Perhaps it hadn’t been a complete waste of coin to hire the man.
Esmi and her rebirth: that was more than enough to consume my attention for now. Her too-bright figure stood above the still one stretched out across the table. Seeing the pair of them this way together made me itch to take action, to see this mighty wrong fixed.
“Hull, the staff, if you would.”
“On it,” he said, unlatching the metal cube from his belt and tossing it to the floor. Before the vault key landed, the artifact unlocked itself in a whir, forming that otherworldly doorway in a mere blink of the eye. My friend stepped within but I didn’t bother to follow, turning back to Esmi.
“It is time, my love,” I told her, soft as silk. I had forgotten I knew how to speak so gently, but around her it seemed my body remembered.
She broke her gaze away from herself. “It’s so odd,” she confided in me. “I recall looking in a mirror often, but I feel as if I’m only now seeing myself for the first time.”
Her tone was not sad or melancholic, and yet there was an ill feeling to it, an ache of sorts. I stepped closer, unsure what else to do. My body might recall the ways of some things, but my time with Felstrife had made me more monster than man, and those harsh lessons would not soon fade. The best I could manage was to ask, “Do you see something you did not before?”
“Not precisely…,” she said, stretching the words long. “But it makes me wonder. Wonder if we should go through with this.”
I rocked back on my heels. She had been eager to confront the necromancers and see my plan done. What could have changed in such a short span? “Why would we not?” I asked as carefully as I could, trodding on unexpected ground. “We have the means. You heard the king say what the staff was capable of. I cannot imagine he would lie about such a thing.”
She plucked my hands up in hers, her usual warmth gone, which I found unnerving. “I dueled in a war and lost,” she said, her brown eyes heavy against mine. “Should this not be my lot?”
That vampire. Even now he was causing her grief. “Surely he cheated or caught you unawares?”
“No, my darling,” she said, shaking her head. She took one hand away from mine and lightly trailed it along the corpse’s stomach, near the ugly wound. “Seeing this, I remember it so clearly. I was reckless, overeager, and he took advantage of that, just as any skilled duelist would. It ended just as the Twins wished.”
Was this the Rapturist in her, or some mindset that took hold when one became a card? The hole in myself that I only dared to taste the edges of loomed, threatening to consume me. The hope of bringing her back had been what allowed me to push through the agony of her absence, to endure what I had instead of curling up upon myself as Bessamun had. Without it, I was only vengeance, and most of that had already been meted out. All this and more I wanted to explain to her, but I was no great poet.
“I need you,” I told her, trying to invest the simple words with the full measure of what I felt.
She looked back at me with a wan smile. “Basil. You have not only survived without me but thrived. You are Epic now,” she said the last in a whisper.
“It is an empty thing without you to share it,” I countered. “I see no point to this body if it cannot feel your touch, to my ears without the song of your voice filling them. The peace I felt with you will never live again, snug as we were in each other’s confidences. Without watching your joy, there is none to be had for me.” I had spoken from the heart, what shriveled bit still hung in my chest, but hearing my words back, there was a ring of selfishness to them. Even if I was dead and gone, I would weep in whatever Mind Home held me at the thought of Esmi passing before her time. I squeezed the hand that remained in mine. “The world is a better place with you in it, Esmi. What of your work in the Lows and your desire to become Epic? To get your mother’s card back from your grandfather? Surely you wish to see your father, to make sure he is hale and healthy? Live again for your own desires, if no others.”
I wanted to kiss her then, but that too felt selfish, and a lifetime of noble propriety held me back. Esmi leaned forward, touching her lips to mine, saving me from making a choice. Just like her hands, there was not the usual warmth, but still, our faces fit together in a way that drove all other thoughts from my head.
“Could you… feel that?” I asked when she pulled back.
“In my memories,” she answered. “Always.”
“I can take longer if you two need.”
I turned to find Hull slumped against the side of the vault opening, looking like the shimmering edge of the artifact was the only thing keeping him upright.
“Tell Esmi that she should live again.”
Hull pulled a face. “That’s what we near got ourselves killed for, wasn’t it? Seems ass backward if she decides not to now.”
The summoning of Esmi laughed while putting her hands on her hips. “Hull, are you trying to guilt me about matters of the Soul?”
“Whatever works,” Hull said with a shrug. He shuffled the rest of the way through the portal, dragging the black-bone staff behind him.
“You can always be a card again,” one of the Souls we had with us said. It was a new demon of Hull’s, thick-bodied but not fat, man height and with a more reason than I was used to from nether folk, even if he did have a mouthful of pointed teeth. “But regaining the flesh? Can’t imagine you’ll ever get that chance again.”
“I agree with the demon,” my summoned Bodyguard said. He had been the one to carry Esmi’s body and lay her carefully on the table. “The living get more choices, and I have a feeling this one” – he pointed a gauntleted hand at me – “won’t be so reckless with you ‘round again.”
I felt a whisper of good cheer slide through my chest; I hardly recognized it but welcomed it all the same. “Those are some rather sound arguments, wouldn’t you say?”
Esmi’s Soul gave me a knowing look and then stepped up in front of me. “My wish was to protect you,” she whispered. “To see you safe. That was what mattered to me more than anything else.”
“And you did,” I assured her, speaking just as quietly. “I wouldn’t have overcome Felstrife if not for the Air cards you gifted me, and your direction during the necromancer raid was masterful. Don’t you have more wishes you’d like to see made true?”
She stared at me for so long I began to worry, but then she bumped her nose into mine with a giggle, all smiles when she pulled back. “Very well. Though I’m glad we talked it through. Hull, might I see that staff?”
I was so relieved, I practically floated over to watch her inspect the artifact we’d be using. It was in the shape of a human spine, slightly curved and shorter than what a living person possessed, the nine connected vertebrae slick like onyx.
“I plan to run Death Source through it when the time comes,” I explained to them both.
Hull shot me a questioning look. “You told me you weren’t cultivating Death.”
“I’m not, but all manner of Source crystals can be found in the vault. It’s how I’m summoning Esmi right now,” I said, pointing to the burning fireball that floated above my head.
“And you didn’t think to tell me that the first time I went in?” he groused, but I could tell he was just tired, not angry.
“I’ll get it,” I said, patting his shoulder as I passed. “Sit, rest.”
He did so without argument, showing just how bad off he was. His mother had his Soul card, or so he said, but I had watched him use his abilities during our fight with the necromancers, so things were not as simple as they seemed. Once Esmi was returned, that would have to be the next thing we dealt with.
It was only a matter of moments for me to recover the small, black sphere from the appropriate chamber and rejoin my comrades in the storage room. I had barely stepped free of the floating doorway when Esmi asked, “Why Death?” She was turning the spine this way and that in her hands, her attention rapt.
“I had the opportunity to observe necromancers at work and discovered that it was through Death Source that they not only reanimated the dead but kept them preserved.”
Hull frowned, and with his face already haggard, the expression made him look years older. “If she’s coming back as a zombie, maybe she’s right to worry.”
I shook my head, having already been through this line of reasoning when deciding on my plan. “The king wouldn’t bother to keep something that any summoner with a bit of Death could accomplish, not to mention placing it in the Epic portion of his vault. No, that artifact must truly have the power of resurrection.” Perhaps they could feel how much I wanted to believe the words so they didn’t bother arguing. That, however, failed to satisfy me, their question having reopened the problem in my mind. “I could add in some Life Source as well. I used it to destroy Felstrife, and a similar principle might help us now.”
Hull perked up. “You did what now?”
“Since Death preserves, I surmised that Life would have the opposite effect, and in my limited testing, it did. I think investing the solution you helped procure for me with Life was the reason her destruction was so thorough. She didn’t even leave a Soul card behind.” Esmi had done a thorough job of collecting all forty of Felstrife’s summon cards, twenty from each Mind Home, but all we found of the lich herself was sludge. I told as much to Hull, but was interrupted by an unexpected click.
“I thought there might be some trick to it,” Esmi said, showing us how she had twisted two vertebrae apart, revealing some sort of opening. “My teachers in Charbond would give us puzzles like this at times.”
“Something supposed to go in there?” Hull asked.
“My guess would be a card,” Esmi said, “probably of equal value to the person you are trying to raise. Something for nothing would be too good to be true, after all.” She turned to me. “Please use a Relic or Spell if you can. A Soul may be required, but I’d prefer to avoid that if possible.”
“Of course,” I said, waving her concerns away. “I have plenty of high rarity cards from Felstrife. That won’t be an issue.”
“Well,” she said, handing me the staff and then standing straight, looking rather nervous for the first time since I had summoned her. “I should be off then. The next time I see you, I’ll be looking at you through those eyes instead.” She glanced at her physical body and then darted in to kiss me on the cheek, feather light. “Both of you be careful, and if it doesn’t work, all will still be well.”
I gave her a searching look instead of arguing, and she flashed her dimples at me, giving a little nod. As odd as it felt, I unsummoned her, her form breaking apart in a cascade of motes, yet never before had my chest lurched so at seeing a Soul go.
“You’ve got this, Hintal,” Hull said, and only then did I realize how long I’d been staring at the spot she had been standing. My friend was slumped on a nearby chair like he had no more will than a sack of potatoes. If he had rested at some point in the last week, he didn’t look it.
“Thank you for all you’ve done, my friend,” I told him. “I’ll take care of this.”
A grunt was the only reply I got, which strangely warmed me as I began my preparations. It would take twenty or so minutes for Esmi’s card to return to my Mind Home, so in that time I looked through the Rare cards available to me, eventually settling on one Felstrife had used to great effect during the second half of our fight.
Without Resist, the damage I’d incur if I ever used the card myself was a significant detractor. What’s more, I liked the idea that perhaps it would restore some blood to Esmi’s quiet veins. Of course, I didn’t know if the type of card used would have any sort of affect on her resurrection, but I was feeling the tingle of hope again, on the edge of accomplishing something I had wished for so long and with such great fervor that a little more wishing hardly felt out of place.
I experimented with inserting the card into the spine’s slot, and closing the contraption back up. It bound up the first few times, but I eventually figured out the correct placement and angle. By then Hull was dipping in and out of sleep, the demon Soul who had offered his thoughts standing beside Hull so he wouldn’t fall out of his chair. It seemed my friend had found a Bodyguard of his own, or at least a Soul who would look after him.
I started checking the cards in my Mind Home as soon as it grew close to when Esmi’s card should return, and the moment it did, I pulled her from behind my ear, placing the card gently on Esmi’s corpse, atop the wound that had killed her.
Much like the sacrificial card, I didn’t know if where I put her Soul card would matter, and I found myself wishing that Mort was with us, so I could ask the genial man all my questions.
Hardly able to wait, I double-checked that the spine was sealed with the Blood Spear inside and then fitted the Death crystal to my fabricator, summoning an inky black Death Source into being. With a long breath in and then a smooth one out, I placed the end of the artifact on Esmi’s Soul card and began to channel Death Source into the spine. The power that filtered through my head and ran along the top of my arms was utterly still, as if any air in the room had ceased moving, and my muscles locked, unable to shift or tense. As I said I would, I added some Life Source on top of that, the jittery green energy a direct counterpoint to the fixed nature of Death. I could only squeeze so much from a single Death Source and my two of Life, so when the flow stopped I waited for them to refresh and tried again, and again.
Nothing happened.
I felt a flicker of panic at the failure but outwardly remained calm, touching the artifact to her body instead of the card to see if that made a difference, and then against her flesh instead of her clothing. None of it worked.
“Perhaps the card in the spine needs to be higher rarity?” my Bodyguard offered. I had been starting to suspect the same, but his words were enough to convince me to make the swap. I removed the Blood Spear and put in a different Spell, one the world would be better off without.
I imagined the heart it pictured making hers beat again, despite its name, and started the process over again: quiet Death, loud Life, the hope of my love alive again. Still, nothing.
I ripped the Epic from the artifact, and hesitated only a moment, choosing from the three non-Soul Mythics that Felstrife had possessed. In the end, I picked the one that had the highest casting cost, hoping that might make it more powerful in some way.
If it didn’t work, I would need to use Emerus or The Kraken, both of which were Souls, and if I was going to do that, I might as well go through the whole gambit again. You’re getting ahead of yourself. Focus on what is before you.
With steady hands, I laid the tip of the spine on Esmi’s Soul card, like I had the very first time, starting with Death. Immediately, I could feel a difference, the artifact starting to hum in my grasp. The sensation was a shock, but in these last months I had become accustomed to facing the unexpected, so I didn’t falter, pouring Life into it next. The vibration of the spine increased, and I fought to hold it in place while my Bodyguard helped keep Esmi’s body where it was.
The artifact pulled on me like the lead chains my father put on prisoners. I didn’t dare pull back, in fear of breaking the connection I had finally found. Instead, I poured more of myself into it, my Order Source and Air, flowing alongside the other two. And when that font started to grow dry, I squeezed myself even harder: every song I had ever sung, every object I had put in its proper place, every life I had noticed buzzing in the world around me, all of it, I poured through the staff and into Esmi’s body, willing it to be enough.
I heard the door to our room creak open, and a chill washed down me as if I had cultivated the ice that formed at the top of Pirtash peak. It wasn’t fear; the only thing I feared was failing to bring Esmi back to life. No, this was the cold certainty that I would kill anyone who dared to interrupt. If they had gotten past my Master Assassin, they were undoubtedly powerful, and with Hull asleep and so weak a stiff breeze could knock him over, it fell to me to handle it. Yet I couldn’t move, not with how close I felt to accomplishing what I sought. My fingertips were brushing the edge of Esmi’s rebirth, I was sure of it.
“You’re late to speak with yourself. One would think you didn’t care anymore.” The voice was slick and sickening, because it cared only for itself. I would never forget it, and as I fought to maintain the maelstrom of Source I was funneling into Esmi, over my shoulder, I saw Hull’s mother saunter into our nook of the room.
“Whazzat?” Hull said, his summoned demon shaking him awake.
I too was shaken as the artifact in my hands leapt forward, and I nearly fell atop Esmi. I caught myself before that, barely, on the edge of the table with one hand. My Bodyguard had already worked his way around to stand between us and the remaining general of the demon armies.
“Basil?” someone croaked. I had heard her speak less than an hour before, but not like this, not with a voice so raw, not with one that sounded alive.
My eyes snapped back to the table, and there she was, pushing herself into a sitting position. There was no sign of her Soul card anymore and the gash upon her stomach was gone, though the cloth around it was still torn, revealing part of her midriff. As I watched, the skin there and everywhere else returned to a healthy flush, and tears leapt to my eyes.
“Wasn’t that girl dead?” Hull’s mother commented.
I took my love in my arms, and she hugged me back, and then we were kissing, the warmth of her lips a balm my Soul had been craving. If Hull’s mother attacked me now, so be it; my Bodyguard could take the blow as I savored this moment I desperately needed.
When we parted, I looked into her eyes and experienced yet another shock in a day filled with many.
“Esmi,” I breathed, “you’re Epic.”
“I am?” she said, and her expression went distant as she looked inward. “I am!” she gasped but then froze unexpectedly. “Basil,” she said, refocusing on me, her eyes brimming with worry. “Something is wrong.”
My heart faltered, unsure as novice fingers across a harp. “What is it?”
“Look,” she said, leaning forward, putting our faces only inches apart. So close to her, feeling her living breath against my skin, like the sweet kiss of a spring breeze, it took me a moment to comprehend what she meant. When I did, I focused on one of the red flecks that danced in her eyes, letting that sharp-edged mote become the entirety of my vision.
Comments
iridium248
I wonder if they're going to trade the two Legendaries for Hull's card back.
Magosren
I guess we now have a user for the 40 high rarity death cards of Felstrife. Not shocking that being dead and coming back makes you death aligned. Great chapter anyway. I'm guessing next Hull gets his card back.
Hailhound
Probably not? I’d assumed that she can be death aligned and not undead. I know you can cultivate death and not be undead, it’s been mentioned some career soldiers can do so, but we never saw their cards to see if they are death aligned as well
iridium248
Uh-oh. Is she Undead now?
Furious Scribe
Yup, missed that! Fixed now.
Hailhound
I think there’s an error in her new card, the fire skin bit still says kobold whisperer not Esmi
Hailhound
Do we have any other examples of cards/souls changing their source type, perhaps on an upgrade? I know we’ve seen costs change but I don’t think type has?
Arun
From the colours on her card and the requirements for Phoenix Feather, it looks like Esmi now cultivates Fire and Death instead of Fire and Order.
BLead Irish ambassador
What was wrong? Seems like phoenix upgrade wouldn’t inspire ‘it is wrong?’
PB
Not gonna lie, that stick red border is sluiting our boy really well! ... Cant wait for Hull to join him
