In the ensuing silence, local lights start turning off.
By now, it’s midnight and they’ve made it passed the post office, community center, and local soup kitchen. Coincidentally, this seems to be the natural end of the village, too, where the homes are starting to peter off and the baren emptiness of the rest of the regional road is starting to become apparent.
And, according to the map, they’re just a touch east of directly south of where they need to be: the loch.
“We’ll have to cut through the fields and avoid the farmers, but it should be a pretty straight shot up north,” Manus says while squinting into the distance. Jarl wouldn’t be surprised if he had some kind of spell on him to increase the abilities of his eyes—like glasses but magic. Hopefully, there’s some night vision, too.
“We should go through the bushes and trees—make sure they don’t see anything.”
“Agreed.”
~
There’s something to be said about sneaking around.
Jarl’s never really done this—even growing up, he was always the good big brother: always doing what’s right and always mindful of the impact his actions would have on his precious little brother.
Jarl could do no wrong.
It wasn’t allowed.
(Until now…)
~
Getting to the loch doesn’t take as long as leaving it did.
They know where they’re going this time (as in which direction) and they’re actually closer to it, from here, than they would have been if they went straight up from the Inn. It still takes them a half an hour, though, because they’re now worried about being seen snooping around someone else’s property.
It feels… incredibly wrong to Jarl.
Hoping to distract himself, the priest tries to focus on the reason why they’re doing this: Jasey. His brother.
Who’s currently trapped in an underwater cave with some fire wielding daemon like a princess in a fairy-tale.
… That’s not really helping. Round Two: they’re moving onto their second location, Bailenac’ringy.
That’s about 18 kilometers away from here; 18 kilometers closer to Jasey.
That helps. It makes moving through the bushes outside someone else’s home just a little bit easier.
Potentially ruining a strangers’ crops is a bit easier to swallow when he knows it’s helping him save another.
And prowling around in the middle of the night like a ne’er-do-well with a daemon and a witch at his sides becomes infinitely easier to stomach when he remembers Manus is doing this with him out of love for Jasey and Áesta…
(Is it normal for a daemon to go to all this trouble for a MEAL?)
~
That thought echoes in his mind as he turns to look at Áesta.
The little daemon is still in his human colors—a tiny but feisty brown bean—and still unincumbered by bags. But he’s also silent—as apposed to being a loud critic like he was earlier—and stealthier than even a cat. (There it is again: the daemonic house cat image…)
What do daemons normally do for their food?
Jarl had assumed some very unsavoury things—and he still seems right when it comes to anyone but him—but… All Áesta’s done is… REST with him. They’ve shared a bed, he’s gotten Jarl to [caress] touch his shoulder, and even managed to get him to… DESIRE him: yes; but that’s not…
Even with the frighteningly fierce desire to TOUCH Áesta yesterday morning, there was nothing unsavoury about it: it was, in fact, nothing more than the want to touch—to feel the warmth of another huma—
But that’s the sin in this, isn’t it: Áesta’s not human.
(Yet STILL: Jarl wanted so badly to feel him.)
~
When they come upon the loch again, it’s bathed in the light of the high full moon.
It’s just past midnight, so this makes sense. As does the hooting owl Jarl can faintly hear in a nearby tree and the woodland orchestra of insects, composed of what sounds like crickets and cicadas, it’s singing a tune to. The surprisingly soothing sound is carried to him upon the wings of the night wind as it breathes through him and deposits the chill of the loch upon his blood and bones. It wakes him more than his signature two cuppas.
As he stares into the strangely calm lake, Jarl suddenly wonders if this feels different to Manus.
He said he’s a wind mage—and a snow witch—so, does the cold air brushing passed him empower him similarly or differently? (Because it MUST be empowering either way.) What of the snow? It IS winter; so, does that give him a boost or does it brittle his bones like it would a normal person? (Not that he’s normal.)
And what of the daemon?
Red is a devil based in fire, but Jarl has no idea what Áesta is. Is he also wind? Or snow? (Or fire, like Red?)
He’s always so warm… but Manus DID say daemons absorb rather than radiate.
Does that mean the warmth Áesta produces, the warmth Jarl feels from him, is false or just his own?
~
Whatever the answer, Áesta grins at the loch when he sees it and darts towards it, seemingly in its element.
He jumps into it, appearing unaffected by the freezing waters and sheets of ice, and lets out a gleeful giggle as his feet hit the marsh-like edges with a splashy symphony that reminds Jarl of a child. A very specific child, in fact, that used to play in all the puddles, and even some ponds, on the way to school when it rained—completely uncaring about the mess he was making of himself and his clothes.
Their teachers and parents alike had always scolded Jasey over this, but had Jarl simply loved his smile.
And his laugh. It was warm and bright: like a little sun in the middle of their dreary morning, just for him.
A happy sun full of joy and wonder.
Just like the black star that is Áesta.
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