In the midst of the chaos, five people argued in a dimly lit room, seemingly on the topic of who should 'take one for the team'.
"Would you like to reiterate on that wackass statement you just made, Aodh?!" Conn slammed his forehead against Aodh's.
"Yeah, well as a matter of fact, you should join Fiachra and jump into the magic water!" Aodh clapped back, the two trying to force the other to back down by pushing with their heads against each other like rams.
Aoibh shook her head with a sorrowful sigh. On her lap rested the dying body of Eoin, her precious prophet. Her long sleek hair strands fell on his face, still, yet with such flow it appeared like an auburn waterfall frozen in time. Her countenance was like that of a mother carved out of a fantasy book, taken from her happily ever after in wake of a dying son.
To her side was a complete contrasting image of her placid beauty. Fionnuala cursed, already standing up from Aoibh's side and stomping furiously towards the three boys. She pointed at Aodh then started to sing as she moved her fingers, "Eeny meeny miny moe! Counting all my idiot bros! Conn, get in the water."
Conn's face turned pale. "Wait... wait, wait! I didn't stand in the right place---"
"Follow the rules, chump." Aodh and Fiachra placed their hands on Conn's shoulder, ready to carry him if they needed to.
"Sorry broski. The rules says." Fiachra shrugged.
Those near the river were like mindless zombies, so of course they had tried to get ahold of the orb that had just been made out of Conn. But they who were in their worst state could not do anything to the superpowered siblings. Fionnuala, Fiachra and Aodh were impenetrable walls.
Aoibh washed Eoin's body using the orb to scrub away the stoney exterior of his skin and revealing his soft flesh. When she had finished, there was still more of the orb left which Fionnuala collected and kept in the talisman attached to her belt.
When Eoin opened his eyes, he awoke to Aoibh. And as the Augur spirit opened her mouth to speak, a curved blade suddenly rolled through her neck.
A loud roar shook the walls of the shelter, blood splattering everywhere. One of the prophets who had just come out of the water and back to his senses seemed to have lost it immediately after. Sharp rings pulsed out of him, splitting those it caught off-guard apart.
Aoibh's decapitated head fell backwards on her neck; her annoyed face focused on the rampaging prophet. The rest of her body twisted and turned to align properly with her head when she stood up. She wrapped both her palms to make a circle towards the prophet, and looking through that circle, white feathers and visible white wind spun around the man's body. The rings still blasted out of the feather sphere; however, its intensity reduced due to Aoibh's influence as she eventually eased the prophet's mental collapse.
"Even if the bloke hadn't been stopped, my head's after killin' me anyway." Eoin stood up with a groggy head. "Still, thanks Eevie."
Fionnuala grabbed his wrist and pulled him aside, "Let's go find somewhere else less packed with mad people. Don't want to have to let go of another brother to save your arse again so soon."
The prophet seemed to have barely heard her words as he turned his head to look at the chaotic state of the underground shelter. This part especially, near the stream was very congested. There were not even up to fifty prophets the last time he'd checked, so why were they all gathered in this one specific place? "What the heck is happening?" He asked Aoibh who had just flown over to his side.
"I put you in a trance the second the screams started, but it was... a late response. You had begun to turn into stone. The prophets here just like you would've, had all lost their minds to the wails, reduced to beings guided by the spirit's own rules and instincts. The children had spread out to find the source yet returned to no avail. But they did discover that the paths leading outside have been sealed by some sort of Deceiver grade spirit with strange powers to---" Aoibh gave a recollection of what they had been up to.
"Strange powers. Hmm... mmh. I'll just leave the thinking to my most capable for now." Eoin laughed, still confused.
"I'd give you a piggyback ride, but I'm a little sore from losing Conn." Fiachra pretended to sob. "My dear brother."
"You traitorous cat." Fionnuala hissed.
"You said it, big sister. And cats I'm afraid, are too frail to have a mass like dear Eoin on their backs." Fiachra clapped back.
"Did he just call me fat?" Eoin turned to Aodh walking beside him.
"I did suggest we put him down earlier." Aodh shrugged.
The five of them had not gone far when a voice spoke, "You do realize you left that prophet in the mercy of the others, right? You might as well have killed him." But Fionnuala argued that they had saved others who would have fallen victim to his outburst instead.
M'raj sighed. "You prophets and your stern logic. No matter. Follow my voice, and I'll take you somewhere safe. Those from the Omens of Night will be protected under our authority."
They looked at each other as if waiting for one amongst themselves to make a decision.
----
Yaga watched intensely as her prophet was teleported to yet another statue spirit, the clueless prophet losing more and more of his memories the instant their clubs grazed his skin. But Yaga had a plan— the very reason she was staying silent and shining her eyes in focus. Equinox appeared in front of a stone spirit, one Yaga seemed to remember. 'Not this!' She continued to watch.
As much as he knew, Equinox had just been sucked into Izel's forge. In front of him, his arms raised at the tall stone spirit that suddenly turned to him to ask, "What is... is your name..." Equinox was caught off-guard by the question. He was sure something was wrong. This doesn't feel like a safe place for making weapons. Where is Izel? And...
"Yaga?!" Equinox called out, stepping on twigs as he took cautious steps back.
The stone spirit raised its club slowly, pointing it forward and repeating, "Yaga..." Its stick fell on Equinox's shoulder, who immediately leapt back the second the weapon touched his clothes. He turned around and bolted in the other direction.
"A useless attempt." Yaga suddenly said.
The ground beneath Equinox's feet, as well as the walls of the cave seemed to spin so that Equinox's path away would become his path towards the spirit instead. No sooner had he stopped running after realizing the change, than the club fell right on his raised arm.
After what seemed like the hundredth and first time of getting his memories shaved off, Yaga soon recognized the very first stone spirit they had encountered.
"Speak your name..." The spirit said.
A large shadowy figure appeared behind the bewildered prophet, her sharp fingers tracing down his arms till both their hands met.
"Equinox." Yaga called out to the prophet still in a stupor. And at the sound of her voice, Equinox found a sort of balance amidst the mental tremors. Yaga knows what is going on. His intentions aligned with hers, and they both went into a pre-totem trance.
This place of nothingness was as strange as ever. It felt as if he was trying to see from the palm of his hand, listen from the back of his legs and feel with the strands of his hair. However, Equinox was aware; his psyche linked with Yaga's as their thoughts collided.
"Equinox, listen to me. Your memories have been stolen, but this is the Realm of anointment. Follow my every command and I guarantee you will survive this encounter." The other mind explained.
"Why did I lose my memories in the first place?" He asked, and Yaga answered, the spirit. However, Equinox was still with doubts. Each time he would lose his memory, a certain feeling would always remain, keeping him on guard and restless. Among those feelings that could not be chipped away even after so many memory losses, was anger and suspicion. Equinox was well aware of who they were directed to.
"Now is not the time for your meaningless conspiracies. When our body forms, you will tell the spirit a name that is not your own and get an opening. Then, you will rip out the crystal protruding out of its chest. A few objects sharp enough to carry out this task are in your totem. Although they may be inefficient, you can find a way with your strength!"
Equinox did not say anything as his body reformed.
At this new person who stood before it— a man with flesh like that of lustreless platinum, clothes painted black with murky swirling essence and eyes like dark moons eclipsing dim white suns to the point of showing only white crescents— the spirit asked, "State your name!"
Placing his palm on the murky essence— the curses of creatures he had killed without using his Totem— Equinox ripped them off and answered,
"Equinox Summers."