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mortilith-parade · 8 months

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The Symphony of Souls

Chapter 1: Shadows of Accusation

In the mystical city of Shadowharbor, Ophelia Nightgale, a Netherkind bard and cleric acolyte of Mortilith, guides souls to the afterlife. When zealous Inquisitor Aldric Ironbane accuses her temple of heretical practices, Ophelia's mission to maintain the balance between life and death is at stake. Aided by her mentor, High Priestess Seraphina Mournshroud, and a mysterious, handsome Sourcer, Ophelia seeks to prove her temple's innocence. The story culminates in a confrontation that tests Ophelia's faith, newfound powers, and budding romance.

Shadowharbour was a town of both hushed whispers and great admiration. Ophelia has been raised with tales of the town's ethereal beauty and mysticism. Nestled within the boundary of life and death, ghostly figures, haunting and melancholic, walked side by side among the living. The town was coated in an eternal fog; swirling greys and purples made it hard to see your shoes, let alone three feet in front of you. Even while following the path she was directed to, Ophelia couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the labyrinth of towering buildings and narrow cobblestone streets. Chattering from the living and echoes of the dead's past life rang through her head as she slipped through the crowd. It was not the dead that she feared as she pulled the hood of her cloak further down her head. No, she was raised to respect the souls of the departed, love and guide them to the next realm. It was the living she feared. Back at the church, no one batted an eye at her Netherkind heritage. Instead, she was regarded for her gifts bestrode upon her by Mortilith, the god of death and grief. This was new territory, though; she rarely left the safety of the church walls, let alone travel this far out of her village. Despite being distracted by her whirling thoughts and anxieties, Ophelia finally found the landmark she sought: a gold street lantern twisted with vines illuminated a tavern sign, The Ebon Elegy Tavern. A tall gothic building that seemed to be built on an angle. High Priestess Seraphina knew the owner and assured Ophelia that there would be a room waiting for her to rest her head and plan her next moves.

The Netherkind girl pulled down her hood, revealing ram-like horns curling from her forehead. High Priestess Seraphina had told her to stand proud in Shadowharbour, to not hide her heritage like she would have to on the roads. However, despite her reassurance, she still felt the pricking sensations of fear as she placed her hand on the door. She knew she was not exactly unattractive if you ignored her hellfire lineage. Ophelia's hair, a vibrant, deep red hue with rich brown undertones, cascades down her back in voluminous curls that frame her. Her skin has a light pinkish hue that reveals her Netherkind background. While covered by her black robes, Ophelia was most proud of the ink that decorated her arms and shoulders. Ethereal depictions of skeletal hands, representing her beloved Mortilith's domain over death, intertwined with celestial constellations and stars. Rendered in shades of deep indigo and pale silver, symbolizing the celestial realm and the mysteries of the afterlife. When anxious, she would trace the swirls and patterns with her fingernail, finding comfort in the repetitive motion. Gods, she wished she could do it now, but even Ophelia knew it would be uncouth for her to strip down that much. Instead, she had to make do by gripping the silver amulet dangling from her neck. She brings the Ouroboros to her lips, kissing it gently and whispering a soft prayer that brings on courage and strength.

"O Mortilith, guardian of the final passage,

We beseech you in our hour of need,

As we walk the path towards our inevitable end.

Grant us the serenity to face the unknown,

The courage to embrace our mortality,

And the hope that in death, we shall find purpose.

Guide our souls through the darkness,

And may your eternal vigil bring us peace.

In your name, we surrender to the eternal cycle."

With one last kiss to the cool silver amulet, Ophelia pushed open the door, forcing herself to raise her head. The tavern was dimly lit by a multitude of floating candles, casting an amber glow that seemed to dance across the wooden surfaces. The main hall is adorned with rich, dark mahogany panelling and plush crimson velvet curtains, which frame tall, arched windows that offer glimpses of the city outside. However, it was the bar that caught Ophilia's eye the most. A polished black granite slab inlaid with intricate silver runes. Behind stood a striking figure with obsidian hair. If Ophelia had to guess, she would put the lady in her late forties. She had an air of elegance and allure that only comes with experience and a knack for holding secrets. She wears a long, flowing gown that shimmers with an otherworldly lustre, and a pendant with an onyx gemstone rests at her throat.

Her feet seemed to move on their own, walking closer and closer to the woman. Only when she sat at the bar did the loud beating of her heart quieten enough that Ophelia could hear the melodious strains of a hauntingly beautiful tune played by a bard in the corner stage. She thought she recognized the song, her finger tapping along to the melody.

"Welcome to the Ebon Elegy Tavern, A haven for those seeking respite from the shadows. A place where stories are exchanged, laughter mingles with soft melodies, and most importantly, where the line between the mortal world and the mystical realm blurs." The dark-haired woman smiled; her voice seemed to bring an air of comfort to Ophelia, allowing the young traveller to relax. Then, she realized the onyx necklace this woman wore had a small silver charm – an Ouroboros. This must be her, High Priestess Seraphina's friend and owner of the tavern.

"Eveline Nightshade?" her voice came out far shakier than she would have liked. Still, she desperately tried to keep eye contact, even when Eveline's green eyes twitched slightly.

"No one has called me that name in years; how on earth do you know it, or I suppose a better question is who told you that name." her long fingers gently reached towards Ophelia, wrapping around her chin and forcing her head up. It wasn't inherently threatening from the look of it. Still, her sharp nails pressed against Ophelia's flesh as if Eveline was just waiting for an excuse to dig them into her throat.

"High Priestess Seraphina", her voice came out as a pathetic squeak now, "My lady told me to find you when I reached Shadowharbour, that you would grant me a room." almost as soon as those words left her lips, Eveline's had pulled away, blinking as she looked over the anxious traveller in front of her. There was silence between the pair; Ophelia felt as if she was examined, like every little detail of her was being scanned and analyzed before Eveline burst into a high-pitched giggle.

"Oh, sweet pea! Why on earth did you not say so sooner? Here, I thought you were some sort of Embezzler. Sweet Seraphina and I go way back; in her last letter, she did mention something about a Netherkind girl due to appear on my doorstep sometime in the month." Ophelia couldn't help but wonder if her kind was common enough in the area that her just entering the tavern was not an obvious enough sign that she was who the priestess wrote about. Still, she bit her tongue on that matter as Eveline grabbed a glass from behind the bar. "So, you must be the little protégé she speaks fondly of." The glass was filled with a dark liquid and pushed in front of Ophelia. It smelt of burnt oak and bitter nettle, but Ophelia held her breath and downed the liquor.

"Miss Eveline, I would be very grateful if you could extend kindness and allow me to stay here. I have been sent by a high priestess to complete a trial given to me by Mortilith himself. I was told that the path would become clear here within Shadowharbour, and while I do not have, "The woman in front of her raised her hand, stopping her speech that she had spent days planning and practising. Eveline's eyes had changed. The playful nature had wholly disappeared now.

"You can stay as long as you need, child. I do not need gold for your board. Seraphina would have my head if she learned I took a piece from your pocket. However, your little mentor did mention you have a particular talent for singing." Ophelia felt her cheeks heat up; it was not a secret that back home, one of her primary roles in the church was to sing and spin the tales of Mortilith's word. It was her natural talent towards the art of music that first led the High Priestess to take an interest in the young girl, but still hearing that she so openly praised Ophelia to those outside of the church made her embarrassed.

"I expect you to spend your evenings using your talent to entertain, as much as I love the old bastard." Eveline tilted her head towards the elf standing on the makeshift stage. "he doesn't really draw in a crowd outside the usual. That is a fair exchange for board. Ophelia got the impression she couldn't refuse this deal, even if she wanted to or had some alternative option, so she just nodded and offered a small smile. "However, you must not mention Mortilith's name again unless you desire trouble." She was almost hissing the words, eyes narrowing as if she was concerned about who could be listening in. "By how openly you mentioned your name, I suppose you are unaware of the presence of the dear old Inquisitor that has laid his claim over this town?" Ophelia could sense that this was not a question she should verbally answer; instead, she simply shook her head. "Inquisitor Aldric Ironbane - a follower of the Order of the Radiant Crusaders." Once again, Ophelia stayed silent, leading the older women to sigh. "You must not leave your little church often if you have not heard of their growing influence, my dear. The Order believes in upholding absolute morality and eradicating what they perceive as evil and that my child includes Mortilith. According to them, worship of him is akin to heresy."

The only thing that went through Ophilia's head was a series of panicked curses. Heresy? Sure, many found followers of Mortilith a relatively morbid sect. Still, there was never direct hatred towards the followers, especially when non-followers came to them to aid their loved ones into the afterlife. Even those weary of Mortilith would not go as far as calling the church evil. Confusion was evident on her face; she knew her trial would not be a walk in the park, but now, with the looming presence of this Inquisitor Ironbane, her task just got twice as tricky. "How long has the Order been in Shadowharbour? Surely the Order can't have taken influence already."

Laughed filled the air as two drunk patrons retold some story to a far more sober woman, their voices filled with cheer and alcohol couldn't cut the tension that lingered between the two women. "there's influence… but it was not obtained willingly. Many of the folk here just try to keep their head down to avoid the gaze of the Order. What is why –' she points at the amulet around Ophelia's neck, "it would be best if you were conservative regarding this. You never know who will open their fat gobs to the Order." The girl took in her words, gently tucking the silver charm under her clothes. The metal was cold against her skin, reminding her of what was at stake.

"Thank you for the guidance, Miss Eveline." the owner cringed at the name but said nothing. Rather much to Ophilia's concern, she filled the empty cup again, perhaps as some cruel form of punishment.

"no need to thank me, child; just know that if that damn inquisitor comes knocking on my door, I will not put my neck on the line for you. I have my own secrets I need to protect from the Order." She pushed the glass closer to Ophelia. There was a twinkle in her eye that confirmed the traveller's suspicion. Eveline knew she was not a fan of the mysterious liquor. "Now finish your drink and head upstairs. The room isn't much, but it's free. And stop calling me Eveline, will you, Lysandra, these days?" She did not wait for Ophelia to answer. She quickly turned and walked towards a group of patrons, a large smile on her face as she filled their cups. Clearly, the conversation was over.

Ophelia glared at the dark liquid in the cup, struggling to work up the nerve to take a single sip, let alone finish it. Instead, she tilted her head back, staring at the ceiling and trying to calm her racing mind. Eveline was right; now that she was alone, she could feel tiredness creep over her. Her limbs felt heavy, and she struggled to process everything that happened, let alone think of the implications the Order of the Radiant Crusaders would have on her journey. Reluctantly, the Netherkind scrunched up her nose and finished the liquor in two large gulps, feeling the burning sensation travelling down her throat until it eventually caused a radiating warmth in her stomach. It still tasted horrible, but it helped quieten her anxieties. Tomorrow would be a new day; for now, Ophelia just wanted to curl up and embrace the sweet embrace of sleep. She could almost fall asleep right there and then on the stool before she heard the tavern's front door slam open. She jumped at the sudden noise and whipped around, somewhat surprised to hear that the Ebon Elegy Tavern crowd seemed elated at the sight of this mysterious visitor.

There stood a fellow Netherkind dressed in flowing, dark-coloured robes. The candlelight caught the silver adornment, revealing constellations and arcane symbols. As he walked into the tavern, we waved and stopped for small talk with a few of the tables. His skin was darker than hers, but what stood out to Ophelia was his hair. It was a deep black that flowed down to his shoulders. Strands of his hair appeared to have a slight iridescence quality when they caught the light, shimmering with faint hints of midnight blue, almost as if the night sky itself had been woven into his hair. Clearly, her kind was not that rare of sight given the reaction he received, but still, she was shocked by how… comfortable he seemed in a room. Her eyes never left him as he eventually took a set at the bar, leaving three stools between them.

He was a magic user. She could smell the metallic sparks of the arcane on him, something he did not seem to try and hide. Her gaze did not break until the man beside her cleared his throat. An eyebrow raised as he stared at her. "Typically, when someone stares so intensely at me, they either introduce themselves or pull a knife on me; what will you do?" Ophelia said nothing at first, still examining his features. They were finely chiselled, with high cheekbones and a strong jawline. His lips bore a perpetual hint of a knowing smile that both frustrated and drew her in.

"Ophelia… Ophelia Nightingale." She could finally remove her eyes from him; she wished she hadn't finished that godawful drink earlier. At least she would have something to distract herself with if her glass was filled.

He hums a look of amusement in his eyes. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lucius Darkthorn." Ophelia heard his stool scrape across the wooden floor before shifting to the seat beside her. If she had any doubt about his magical prowess before, they were gone now. She could almost feel the sparks of otherworldly power on him; it felt like small static shocks. Powerful and untamed – wild. "Ophelia" Lucius said again, almost as if he was testing how her name sounded on his tongue, "Can't say I have heard that name around these parts, and not to brag, but I am very knowledgeable on who comes and goes around here."

"I just arrived, Miss Ev-"Ophelia quickly caught herself. "Miss Lysandra is allowing me to stay here." Again, Lucius' eyebrow raised, and a small chuckle escaped him.

"On what condition? Lysandra isn't exactly known for being nice for free." he barely got the words out of his mouth before 'Lysandra' appeared, her hand swiftly coming down and slapping the back of the sorcerer's head. While it seemed like a playful gesture, Ophelia still flinched at the loud sound.

"Careful Lucius, if I'm not nice, then how come I allow you to keep running up your tab without payment?" Lysandra placed a glass of wine on the counter, sliding it in his direction. "A meaner woman would have had debt collectors chasing you by now." Ophelia flicked her eyes between the two, fearing an argument would break out. Instead, Lucius just smiled and took a sip of his wine.

"You know I'm good for it, Lysandra; I always am in the end." The barkeep didn't answer. She just rolled her eyes and again disappeared to other customers' aid. "Ah, I should be more observant. the lady knows how to sneak up on you, but I'm sure you've already figured that out if you're staying with her." Ophelia hummed and started to find herself relaxing. She didn't realize how tense she was until now; she could enjoy herself and embrace the warm atmosphere of the tavern.

"I suppose so, but you were right; it isn't exactly free of charge. I'm replacing the elf over there." Lucius looked surprised, flicking between herself and the man finishing his song.

"Oren? You're replacing Oren? Oh, thank the gods. I love that old geezer, but he has been playing the same three songs night after night." he clapped his hands together and grinned. His slender hands were decorated with intricate silver rings, small gemstones decorated with some pops of greens, blues and purples that usually Ophelia would find a gaudy display of grandeur that seemed to compliment the man in front of her. "I have to admit I am a little surprised; you seem like the quiet type. Never imagined you as a bard, but I suppose even I can be wrong occasionally."

Ophelia scoffed, feeling a spark of confidence in her. "I am not just some bard; I pride myself in crafting melodies that could make even the hardest of soldiers shed a tear." she felt an unfamiliar spark of warmth when Lucius grinned.

"Is that so? I suppose I will just have to see that for myself, then. A performance like that is not one to be missed." Ophelia could not quite place the emotion he was showing, but she surprised herself by not caring. In fact, she enjoyed the allure of mystery addictive. "Well, since you're new to town, I ought to offer my services to show you around our lovely little town. If you truly are as talented as you say, it would be a disservice for you to feel unwelcomed."

Now, she really wished she had another drink. At least that way, she had something to blame if he noticed the slight tinge of red threatening to paint her cheeks. "I suppose that would be alright. I can't say I really know my way around." Plus, this might speed up discovering what her trial from Mortilith involves. "Tomorrow morning, no later than 10. I'll wait for you here."

With a laugh and another sip of his drink, Lucius stood up from his seat. "I usually don't make an appearance that early, but for Shadowharbour's latest talent, I suppose I can do that. I'll be seeing you again, Ophie." Ophelia scowled at the nickname, but before she could complain, the Neither kind sorcerer had slipped away to a different table. Wine in hand and a lopsided grin decorating his face.

Ophelia took Lucius' departure as an excellent reason to take her leave and retreat from the bustling tavern that did not seem to have plans to empty out soon. Her legs felt heavy as she forced her body up the step, twisting stairs that led towards the room she would now call her own for the foreseeable future. She had spent the last week sleeping on a bedroll while travelling, so the thought of an actual bed relieved her weary body. The room was small; if she stood in the middle and stressed her arms out, she could easily touch the walls. A single bed and a standing wooden wardrobe were the only furniture provided, but Ophelia was fine. There was enough space under the bed to store her beloved Lyre, and the cabinet comfortably fit everything she had stuffed into her pack. She nearly collapsed on the bed, barely having enough energy to kick off her shoes before she felt her eyes grow heavy. Tomorrow, she would explore what Mortilith had planned for her, but for now, she was more than content to let sleep take over her.

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