THE JEALOUSY OF JALICE

Jalice’s eyes flashed open. She heaved long, laborious breaths and struggled to adjust to her surroundings. Cast in shadows, everything seemed blurry and cramped. She blinked. Her eyes focused on a silhouette looming over her. She inhaled sharply as she noticed the bizarre features of the stranger.

A dark, wrinkled face stared down at her. Pearly white eyes glistened with iridescent waves, which splashed against each other and pulsated with vibrant energy.

The sickly head sat crudely atop a mound of garments folded around the figure. An unbuttoned giant cloak served as the outermost layer, stretched taut around the other tunics and shirts. In the air above Jalice’s forehead hung an outstretched hand, which was quickly pulled back when the stranger realized her awakened state. She had only a moment to notice the translucent appearance of the skin—glowing with veins of a flashing spectrum of rainbow hues—before the figure snatched up a nearby glove and snapped the exposed hand into it. The glow of its veins vanished and left only the illumination from its eyes.

No longer seized by the mystifying features of the intruder, Jalice bolted. Shredding past what she realized were tent flaps, she was met with the brisk night air and a small encampment of other tents and supply bags.

Her eyes latched onto a shadowy figure sitting on a log near a well-lit fire. As the figure stood, she recognized it to be Mygo. The wilderman reached for his sword.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. He peered past her as footsteps approached from behind Jalice. “Did fae hurt you?”

Jalice spun around, coming face-to-face with the stranger who had been inside her tent. The figure’s cloak, along with other loose streams of garment, rippled in the wind that swept over the hills, tangling and untangling in an ethereal dance. To her surprise, a fitted leather mask clung tightly to the stranger’s head, sealing all manner of skin within it. The mask disappeared into the scarf that coiled loosely around the neck. In addition, a set of rounded goggles sat strapped around the mask, veiling any hint of the pearly eyes behind them, while a pair of black visor sheets reflected Jalice’s figure back at her. From head to toe, no skin lay exposed.

Mygo’s rough voice broke through her startled state, and she blinked while attempting to form an answer to his repeated question.

“No, I wasn’t hurt,” Jalice replied. “I just woke up, and . . .” She trailed off and focused intently on the bizarrely dressed stranger. “Who are you? Why were you in my tent?”

Contradicting what she expected from the shrunken features she’d witnessed in the tent, a soothing voice escaped from beneath the mask and scarf. Almost songlike, it calmed Jalice’s adrenaline-fed heartbeat.

“Sahruum’s peace on you, starborn,” came the reply. “I am Elothel, a friend of Annilasia.”

Jalice furrowed her brow. “Where’s Annilasia?” She glanced at Mygo. “Tell me.”

Mygo motioned with his chin towards one of the tents but kept his eyes on Elothel. He clenched the hilt of his sheathed sword.

“She retired shortly after my arrival in the late afternoon,” said Elothel, drawing Jalice’s gaze again. “You’ve slept most of the day. By Sahruum’s grace, you had a peaceful rest until a few moments ago. You began groaning and tossing in your sleep, and I was in the midst of applying my remedies to ease your discomfort when you awakened.”

Goosebumps prickled at Jalice’s skin as she eyed Elothel. Her muscles stiffened as she jostled with the memories that had crept in amongst her dreams and eroded her sense of reality and time. She glanced again at Mygo, tears welling in her eyes and worsening with the biting wind.

“How did we get here?” she asked. Her voice quivered with terrified uncertainty. “How long have I been . . . asleep?”

Her questions went unanswered. She eyed the vast darkness that surrounded them, and cringed at the lack of trees overhead. Rolling hills stretched westward, while a black ocean she presumed to be woodland bled forth from the east. When she turned back to Mygo, her stomach twisted at his deep frown and furrowed brow.

“I’m not surprised you don’t remember,” said Mygo. “We traveled several days to get here.”

Jalice’s throat tightened. Several days—and she remembered none of it. Foggy patches hinted at a journey of some sort, but these dissolved under the vivid onslaught of memories that had dictated her time.

Time—so much lost time.

“Perhaps a walk will help, starborn,” offered Elothel.

“She’s not going anywhere alone with you,” barked Mygo. “Especially not in the dark with Ikaul warriors crawling about.”

“You may join us if you wish,” Elothel said. “But that would leave the camp unattended on your watch—unless you mean to wake up Annilasia or Vowt, who both seem in need of rest.”

Mygo scowled. “Don’t walk out of sight.” He sat back down on the log that flanked the fire. His dark eyes refused to detach from Elothel. He withdrew his sword, letting the fire’s light reflect off the blade before he retrieved a whetstone to scrape across the metal.

“Come, starborn,” said Elothel, lightly tugging at Jalice and nudging her towards the open field. “Some open space and the night sky might help ease your restless mind.”

Jalice allowed herself to be led away from the tents. The sound of rock on metal faded until it gave way to the low chirps of insects singing throughout the hills. Without the meager light of the campfire, darkness invaded every curve and crevice of the land.

Elothel remained quiet and gazed at the vast expanse of stars that stretched out to every horizon, unhindered by the veil of trees. Jalice mirrored her companion and took in the hypnotic sight. Captivated by the beauty before her, she hardly noticed the chill of the night at first.

Unbidden, the tears that had lingered behind her eyelids since waking now streamed down her face. Images flashed in her mind—dark visions from the memories that had haunted her sleep.

“I can ease your discomfort,” said Elothel. “You woke up before I could complete my remedy earlier. I can do so now.”

Jalice eyed the bundled figure nervously. “What remedy?”

Elothel removed one of the gloves. Jalice stared at the deformed, shrunken hand, enchanted by the glowing veins that webbed beneath the skin. She gasped. “You’re—”

“A mirajin,” Elothel finished. Fae extended the exposed hand towards her in gentle offering to clasp it. “I swear on Sahruum’s stars, I mean you no harm.”

Despite the melodious tone and promise of those words, Jalice hesitated. The Sachem had outlawed faer kind under accusation of treason against all humankind. The mirajin had abused faer superior knowledge of the Realms and of aether to constrain mankind’s advancement. If this mirajin knew who she was, surely fae would hold some sort of vengeful grudge.

Another memory flash erupted around her. The field and the night sky evaporated in the blink of an eye, but then they quickly reappeared as if they had never left. Jalice had little time to process the change of scenery the memory had tried to offer. She stared down at Elothel’s extended hand.

“This has to stop,” pled Jalice. “Please, make it stop.”

“I can.”

Abandoning caution, Jalice flung one of her hands into faer wrinkled palm. The mirajin’s skin had hardly registered against her own when a wave of soothing calm washed over her. Jalice breathed in and out deeply, hardly noticing when Elothel withdrew from her grasp. She hunched over and let the miracle trickle through her mind. The sense of dread lingering from the tunnel of memories disappeared. In its place, a truth settled inside her. The place where she stood—beside Elothel atop the rolling hills and beneath the stars—was reality, not those memories that trapped her in endless loops of the past.

She belonged here, not lost in some forsaken land of torturous ruminations.

Jalice opened her eyes to behold Elothel, who had turned faer gaze back to the stars. “What did you do?” she asked in awe.

“I bestowed you with some of my aether. It can temporarily alleviate the ailments plaguing you.”

Jalice opened her mouth, then shut it, unsure of how to respond. “Thank you.” She returned her gaze to the sky, and a brief quietude settled between them.

“I miss my Realm, starborn,” Elothel said softly. “It’s too quiet here. I listen for the Music, but the rocks and fires that hover in the sky are lifeless in your Realm, and out of reach.”

Jalice looked to Elothel and caught the reflection of stars in the black spectacles of faer goggles. “What music?”

“The Music of the Spheres,” fae explained. “When the Three Realms were joined together in layered unity, I could hear the planets and stars sing from the Ethereal Realm. It’s the most beautiful sound the universe can make. The rotations and orbits of the celestial drift create a song that speaks the truths of the Star Alignment.” Fae paused and slowly turned to face Jalice. “But when the Sachem caused the rift that tore apart the Realms, the Music went silent.”

Jalice stiffened at the mention of her husband. “Why can’t you translate home? I thought mirajin could drift between the Three Realms.”

Fae was quiet for a while—long enough that Jalice wondered if she’d offended.

“For the same reason we couldn’t escape the Sachem’s Hunt,” said Elothel. “When the Realms were torn, those of us who had previously chosen to exist here, with your kind, in the Terrestrial Realm became trapped.” Fae lifted the gloveless hand and rotated it as if inspecting a foreign artifact. “Trapped in these mortal shells, our souls became encased, only able to be released upon our physical demise. Much like how your kind exists.”

Jalice gulped. She recalled Hydrim’s decree of the Hunt. “But once you die . . . you’re free, aren’t you?”

“A simple question with a very complicated answer,” fae replied. “We would be free from these shells, but not entirely free in its truest sense. The many who were captured during the Hunt were slain for our aether so that it could be used in the glass wands. Those unfortunate kin lost all sentience and became destructive energy. The few who avoided that end died only to be snared in the aetherwaste that plagues our Realm now.”

Jalice’s mouth clamped shut. Hydrim depicted the mirajin as traitors—a superior species determined to keep humankind locked in ignorance and captivity. He claimed they pretended to teach the ways of aether and the Realms—all a scheme to keep humans dependent. So, before the mirajin knew what was happening, Hydrim struck first. The Hunt was born. Aetherwielders and tillishu cornered the mirajin and slew them out of rage due to the Sachem’s teachings.

Jalice stared into the darkness, unable to look at Elothel. “Because of the Hunt, you can’t translate?”

“I can still translate,” said Elothel. “But I must always return to this shell. I cannot stay in the Apparition Realm nor can I even trace the Ethereal Realm. Not until I am freed by death.”

Jalice cringed, desperate to change the subject. “Why are you here?” Her voice cracked. Their conversation had stirred up emotions she was unwilling to sit with.

“Because of you, Tecalica.”

Fae knows who I am. She eyed the mirajin and stepped back. “What do you want from me?”

“Annilasia requested me for my skills,” fae said. “She explained the trauma you’ve experienced over the past several days. I knew your kidnapping would precede our introduction, but I was not involved in that part of the plan.”

Jalice narrowed her eyes. “What skills do you have? Stop speaking in riddles.”

Elothel paused. “As a mirajin, I wield the purest form of aether that exists. I intend to use it to ease the turmoil in your mind.”

Jalice fiddled with her vow ring before she peered into the darkness again. “You know of the memories? These flashbacks?”

“Yes, and I have a plan to stop them,” said Elothel.

Jalice grew quiet. She listened to the chorus of crickets and was grateful to Elothel for faer quiet respect.

“The memories are leading me to a place I never wanted to return,” said Jalice.

“You speak of the Black House.”

Jalice’s eyes bulged. “Do you know it?”

“Only what Annilasia has told to me, which is little. I suspect it’s because she herself knows very little. You, on the other hand, know much more than anyone else, I think.”

Jalice pursed her lips. Mirajin or not, fae didn’t deserve to know everything. Fae was a stranger—and if Hydrim was correct, fae could very well have ulterior motives. The fact that Annilasia evidently trusted this one was even less comforting.

“How do you intend to fix this?” She placed an open palm against the side of her head.

“I’m not sure how much Annilasia has told you,” fae said warily. “You have a dokojin hiding in your mind.”

Jalice opened her mouth to protest, but the words sank back in her throat. No more than a week earlier, she would have dismissed it as an absurdity. But now—after the ensnaring memories and the mere presence of a mirajin—she was more inclined to entertain the horrid concept.

“The Black House calls to you, starborn,” Elothel continued. “Your memories trace back to that place. But the dokojin’s task is to keep your memories sealed from everyone, especially yourself. The person who put that entity there didn’t want you to remember.”

“Remember what?” Jalice asked with rapt curiosity.

“That is something for you to discover. I think you know that returning there will unlock those revelations.” Fae leaned forward slightly. “But it will also provoke the dokojin. It will do everything in its power to keep you from that knowledge.”

“But you’re going to help me, right?” Jalice held a pleading expression as she clasped her hands together.

“The dokojin is latched inside you.” Elothel placed two gloved fingers on faer forehead. “Every living thing has a Soul Realm unique to them. Your parasite hides in yours, specifically within the deep recesses of your mind.”

“How do you know this?” Jalice asked incredulously.

Elothel shifted, and the folds of faer garments moved with the breeze, lifting like ribbons.

“Because I visited your mind, starborn. It was I who freed the memories that now torment you.”

Jalice gaped. “I thought Annilasia . . .” She flailed her arms. “Why didn’t you free them all? Did you know this”—she gestured to her head—“would happen to me?”

Elothel shook faer head. “I was not in my true translated form when I entered your Soul Realm. I had been summoned from afar into a shadowy state that rendered me weak. I was unprepared to duel a dokojin, and had I tried to remove the entity then, the impact on your mental state would’ve been far worse than what you’ve thus far experienced.”

“So, what’s different now?” demanded Jalice. “Why are you so confident you can destroy this dokojin when you couldn’t before?”

Elothel made a sweeping gesture at faer appearance. “I am here now. When I translate, it will be at my fullest might within the Apparition Realm, not some cloudy semblance of it. I will retain my power while so close to my lifestone.

“Also, it is imperative the dokojin willfully abandon its residence in you,” fae continued. “Forcing it out would be like ripping a giant tick from a bearolf. It might kill the vermin, but there is a high risk that the creature would leave its poisonous fangs, so to speak, inside you, thereby sealing you with remnants of its poisonous presence.”

Jalice winced. “Then . . . how can you remove it?”

Elothel held up a pointed finger for emphasis. “When it senses those guarded memories are in jeopardy of pushing forward—roused by the familiarity of the Black House—it will try to turn you away. The dokojin will leave the recesses of your mind and translate to the Apparition Realm, where it can directly impact you. It will try to dissuade you from approaching the House by inflicting fear. But it will be vulnerable there, and it is in that Realm where I will destroy it.”

Jalice sprang to her feet. “What if this doesn’t work?” she asked weakly. “You talk like a dokojin is a simple matter, like a splinter to be pricked from the skin. It’s a dokojin for Sahruum’s sake! What if angering it makes things worse?”

Elothel stared at her from behind faer goggles. “I didn’t mean to upset you. It is better you know what will transpire when we go to this place. None of it is simple, and I’m afraid your discomfort will only worsen. But you will perish if we don’t get the dokojin out, starborn.”

Jalice turned to leave as her hands trembled. “I’ve had enough air. I’m going back to the camp.”

Talk of what sourced her chaotic flashbacks had left her troubled, and she desperately wished to calm her mind about the treacherous plan to free her of the dokojin.

A plan so vividly detailed by the mirajin.