The empty eye sockets glow with a faint white light, similar to his previous eyes. He looks down to observe his arms. He moves his fingers slowly and takes a step forward.
“Hello, everyone”, he says. He widens his eyes and gently places his hand on his throat.
“I didn’t expect my voice to sound the same. Maybe it’s more hollow than before. What do you guys think?”
The first response he gets comes from Lyssa, who runs towards him and wraps her arms around his metal body.
“Thank every god and goddess, you’re alright.” The sound of relief vibrates in her voice.
“Of course I am”, he answers, stoically. “Uncle said I would be alright. No fiber in my body doubted him. And now I don’t have any fibers left!”
He laughs and walks over to the pile of ashes in front of him. He picks some of it up and lets it fall down through his finger. Then he quickly stands up straight and turns around.
“Where did you leave my hat?”
The Beholder snaps his fingers.
“It’s on your head. We kept it safe, as promised.”
Mero taps his fingers on the brim and lets out a hollow sigh in solace. Then he moves his hands to his chest. He can feel a crystal, no bigger than the size of his palm, rest in cavity. He carefully runs his finger across its edges.
“My soul is stored in this?”
Oanoa nods.
“And I have protected it with a magic ward so you can’t lose or break it by accident. It’s less vulnerable than it seems.”
“After that glowing white light escaped from your body, he caught it in the stone”, Oslando explains. “He placed it in your new body and you woke up immediately.”
Mero expression changes from happy to confused. With no use anymore for his illusionary mask, it remains in his bag. The details of his new face make it easier to recognize what he feels.
“What white light? I don’t remember that part of being burned alive.”
“A white and silver light broke through when your body burned to ash.” Oslando steps closer to him. “It took the form of a man, but we couldn’t see what he looked like. I guess it was you, but I have no clue how that could be possible.”
They both turn their head to the ruler of this plane. His raised eyebrows suggest he doesn’t know either. Without trying to answer their question, Oanoa puts his hand on Mero’s shoulder.
“How do you really feel? I think that’s the important part.”
He smiles at his nephew.
“I feel fulfilled, uncle. I’m so glad you gave me this. It was so tiring to be looked down upon, literally and figuratively. Maybe now people will take me seriously.”
Bruq bleats shortly.
“Anyone who is willing to mock a five hundred pound metallic sorcerer is an idiot in my book.”
The others smile. Lyssa walks up to them and stands beside the satyr.
“We took you seriously all along”, she says, “but I understand what you mean. Being small and vulnerable tends to attract the wrong kind of attention.”
In his excitement, Mero is oblivious to the sadness hiding behind the siren’s words. He hugs her and Bruq.
“So”, he says, “now that we’re ready, let’s talk business!”
“I took two of the maps from the Voyeur’s library and drew as many points of interest on it as I could remember. One is the general map of Abaddon, the other has a lot more details.”
Cyrzana lays out the last mentioned folded piece of thin cloth. They read ‘Abaddon’ above the thorough drawings of the several islands. Oslando runs his fingers across the map. He feels the black lines that form the coastlines of the different islands, the detailed mountains and rivers, the city walls. Everything draws his attention, but luckily the succubus is there to elucidate.
“As you can see here”, Cyrzana says as she points a relative big city, “this is where you need to go. This is Baltahn, home of the Black Throne and ruled by queen Agraxia, my mother. She rules over the region of Lilim, a relatively peaceful area. Sadly, none of the Beholder’s mirrors are near the palace.”
She looks over at Oanoa and he nods.
“I believe the closest portal is somewhere to the right of Lilim, in Devyrion. There are some other portals, but I don’t think they are as safe as this one.”
The succubus lets her finger run across the map. She taps on where the portal is, marked as a red ‘X’ on the right side of the region.
“Correct”, she states. “It will take some time before you get to Baltahn. You can stop at some of the villages along the way, like Saal.”
Her pointy nail show them the journey they must take. She moves through the steppes, past a temple on the south and stops at a relatively small village.
“You can eat and drink, rest and stock up whatever you need there. They don’t have much, but you’ll find everything that’s necessary for a prosperous trip.”
Oanoa clears his throat.
“Yes, about that”, he stammers. “I used to know what was happening around there, but I lost my sight there. My children don’t share their vision with me anymore. Maybe you can have a closer look there?”
Some of the adventurers nod slowly.
“We will”, Bruq says. “If we can rest there, it’s important to know we are safe there.”
“Yes, safety is a whole other issue to discuss”, Cyrzana says and she sighs. “I should prepare you that some demons won’t be as friendly as I am. Our ways of living are different than yours, but our visions on outsiders are similar in some ways.”
“What do you mean?”
Oslando looks at her intensely.
“Basically, your group consists out of a half-elf, a satyr, a shapeshifting dragon, a mechanical construct and a siren. Do you remember how your reaction was when you first saw me?” She doesn’t give them time to think. “It was hostile. Well, you can expect a lot of hostility now angels try to ruin Abaddon. What do you think that’ll happen when this collection of curiosities comes walking in their potentially endangered cities? Exactly, hostility. So, let’s talk about a solution for this problem first before we talk about the next one.”
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