Chapter 3.25: The Plane In Between

“Mero!”
They try to reach him, but the fire blocks their path. Purple and red flames are wrapped around the puppet’s smouldering body.
“I’m alright”, Mero shouts. “At least, I think I am. I’m not in pain.”
They can barely hear him above the fiery racket. A dark smoke mixes with the flames.
“Well, that’s surprising”, Oanoa whispers inaudibly. He can she past the blinding light and watches how his nephew’s flammable body is consumed.
“If he comes out of this even just a bit different, I swear-”
Oanoa puts his finger against his own pouted lips and Dargothoth loses the ability to speak.
“Your explosive reactions are tiring, cleric. Go stand over there.”
He gestures with his other hand to the corner of the room and the draconian gets pushed all the way to the back. The priest tries to resist, but it’s futile. An invisible and invincible force holds him in place.
“Don’t disturb the ritual, Dargothoth”, Lyssa says, pleadingly. “Who knows what will to Mero!”
The cleric growls.
“Are you feeling anything already?” Oanoa speaks loudly, but he doesn’t get a response. “Mero?”
The silence persists.
“I… I think I can feel my life slipping away.” Mero’s voice sounds broken. “The flames feel cold. I remember this feeling… I think this how I felt when I died. Am I dying, uncle?”
The flames no longer dance in random patterns, but swirls around the puppet in perfect spirals. His body is charred and pieces of him lie burning on the floor.
“Oanoa, you have to help him!” Bruq stands idly by while the Beholder only observes.
“No, you won’t die. I won’t let you, nephew.”
With most of his chest falling to the ground in ashes, a big hole appears where normally a heart should be. A thin ray of a bright silvery white light source escapes and illuminates the entire room. Another one appears and another one, all growing wider by the second.
His scarecrow-like appearance is no more, only ashes on the ground. The shackles that were supposed to keep him in place make a loud noise as they crash on the hard stone floor.
(Perception 15)
They can’t recognize any contours in the now enormous source of light, but as the brightness decreases, a shape forms. They can recognize a humanoid, standing over six feet tall, but no further details become visible.
“Mero? Is that you?”
Bruq walks towards the glowing silhouette. The mysterious appearance turns his head to the satyr, who stops and looks at him with squinted eyes. It feels like looking at the sun. His eyes burn.
“It is you, isn’t it?”
Before any form of response can follow, an orange stone appears in front of the being and it draws his attention.
The others look at Oanoa, who is mumbling while moving his fingers from one crooked angle to another.
“I’ll keep you safe, nephew”, he says, gruntingly. Every muscle in his body has tightened, all helping him to make the casting of this powerful spell work.
The white humanoid reaches out to the stone. It reacts with a bright orange flash. Both Mero and the peculiar source of light have disappeared. All that remains is the stone, now floating above the Beholder’s right hand. A liquid-like white swirling can be seen within the orange edges of the crystal.
“I’ve got you, Mero”, Oanoa whispers. “You’re safe at last.”