“Did Phenilias do this?”
Mero is appalled by what he sees.
“No”, the skull says carefully. “He found it in this state near the edge of the town border.”
Its scaled green skin is covered with dried up dark blood. Almost all teeth are missing and the end of its tongue is torn off. Its four eyestalks dangle limply beside his body, all missing its eye at their tip. The most horrid observation is its central eye. Nails are slammed into its eyelids to keep the big eye open, which looks dry and has the same orange glow to it as the cursed citizens.
“This is horrible”, Oslando says underneath his breath. “Who would do this?”
“And why?” Lyssa wants to look away, but she can’t. “This is just torture for the sake of torture!”
A pained sigh leaves the dry mouth of the maimed creature. It tries to lift its eyestalks, but it lacks the strength to do so. It’s a sad sight to see.
“What should we do?” Bruq takes his backpack and grabbles inside to find something useful. “Do we feed it? Should we remove the nails?”
Mero takes a few steps forward and raises his hand, reaching for his uncle’s hurt kin. He hesitates. It’s in pain, but what if taking out the metal will hurt him even more? It looks like it’s on the brink of death. This could kill him. He might end its suffering, but he might increase the agony its in even more.
“Can’t you heal it?”
Mero turns to Dargothoth, desperation resonating in his voice. There is something about the way asks it that strikes a chord within the sivak. It’s not sentiment, not in the slightest, but rather the feeling that he is needed. Of course he is superior to these ‘companions’ and he doesn’t feel anything for them or their pleas, but to have someone turn to him in times of need, knowing fully well what kind of person he is, is a new experience.
“I can do my best.” Even when Dargothoth doesn’t try to sound ominous he still does. “Make way.”
With sharp clanking sounds the golem takes a few steps back. He wants to rush the slowly moving cleric, push him to help it more quickly, but he knows the discussion will only delay it even further. He almost can’t help himself. Every passing moment must feel like another eternity of suffering for the spectator.
Dargothoth raises his hands and closes his eyes. When he starts to mumble the first few words of his spell, he is interrupted.
“Stop this nonsense.”
He opens his eyes to find where that hollow female voice came from.
The spectator’s dried up central eye glows brighter and its tongue whips around.
“What in the hells?” The sivak observes how more live seems to return to the beholderkin just a few feet away from him. “Did it speak?”
Dargothoth turns around to see the others nod, their startled gazes not losing the creature out of sight.
“Leave this town. Leave and let it be consumed by powers that should be left unchallenged by your kind.”
Anger replaces his confusion and he turns back towards the taunting creature.
“Whoever talks through this vermin’s mouth, hold your tongue! Do you know whose disciple you are speaking to?”
The spectator chuckles and a nasty gargling of phlegm and half-dried up blood mixes with its laughter.
“We see everything, faceless pawn. We saw you enter this town and meddle with businesses that aren’t yours to meddle with.” The creatures inhales with a sharps screeching, like it’s running out of breath. “You will discover soon enough that your deity can’t be trusted, but it will be too late!”
The sivak growls.
“You killed Phenilias, didn’t you? Whoever you are, hiding behind possessing this defenseless creature, I can see you’re scared of facing us. Watch your back, because we will come for you and when I find you, I will gouge out your eyes and feast on your bones!”
Silence fills the room. A crooked smile spreads across the twitching spectator.
“Poor thing.” Now its voice sounds like three women instead of just one. “You will find nothing but darkness!”
The central eye opens completely and protrudes from its socket. The orange glow intensifies.
“Akura irath imen!”
The three females scream and the light dies, just like the spectator. It stops moving and it lies lifeless on its side.
“No!” Mero screams. “Dargothoth, can you save it? Dargothoth?”
No response.
“Dargothoth!”
The cleric turns around so the others can see what has silenced him.
“Oh, no.” Lyssa covers her mouth and walks up to him. “Your eyes. They’re…”
The sivak nods once.
“They’re orange, right?”
She nods, but he can’t see. Dargothoth has gone blind.
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