From before their time and far beyond their scope - it was a relic, well over half a century old. What secrets did it hold? What horrors had it seen? What had been folded away within its crisp, wax sealed edges? Natalia asked themself this, taking a midnight stroll through Hangroad Square. They ran a finger down the ivory handle of the fan, carefully unfolding it into a crescent with an audible thwack. They saw the moonlight reflected in its deep nearly black navy blue silken sky. Embroidered with silver and pearls were the many constellations of the night - small, precious stars all at their fingertips.
Yet, there was more to this object than its beauty. It was this very fan that had sentenced their great uncle to death, declared a traitor. The same fan had ensured the 'peace' and safety of Ithania by doing absolutely nothing. The waving and careful positioning of this had started and ended relationships, brought peace and fanned the fires of war. It was a lady's tool for court, but this intricate piece of artwork had spilled more blood than any blade Natalia had held.
This was to be all they brought - nothing but a fan filled with memories, the haunting presence of their mother, and the dead.
The modest tomb opened easily as Natalia pulled on the hand carved slabs of marble to reveal cold endless darkness and a breeze of stale air. It had gone untouched for months now, since the funeral procession. Laid to rest and meant to stay at rest. Natalia had gone as far as to have Sanskit and Mavana script inscribed within the doors of the mausoleum - they had heard rumors of undead, and these were all prayers of warding alongside d'Ithanie pleas for forgiveness. If half of what they heard was true of their mother then death would not stop the ambitious matriarch; law, morals, or threats never deterred the silver tongued fiend.
They took a deep breath, inhaling the humid midsummer's night saturated air - tasting of rank dirt and forgotten loved ones. A shaken sigh followed as they entered the dark, pulling the doors shut behind them. It wasn't large by any means, even for the short Estling the confines of the space only elevated their anxiety. Barely room to sit, hugging their knees to their chest. They hated it. It was stuffy, ominous, and soon their forehead was dripping with sweat. They could not tell how many hours had passed since. Dusk paced ever slowly into a true darkness, pitch black. None could see, save for the dead.
A lullaby was what followed after the smallest of prayers had escaped their lips, an unsettling sleep falling upon them. They awoke from the night terrors, visions of their mother - as they remembered her; young, bright, a passion so cold it burned hot like fire. Dictating conversations, lies, and orders with her fan. The frilly fragile thing that had been brought with Natalia inside the tomb. From a sapphire set into the ivory base, a crystalline hum emitted - echoing in the space as it spurred the slumbering Ombre with the melody of an Ithanian hymn before screeching in a distorted devilish voice. Harsh, like paper being slashed and torn.
For hours, it went on. Days might have passed in the endless darkness, that void, with screams - commands, orders. It was evil, insane. Hateful and jaded. Each word was like a dagger, the precision legendary as each insult pierced their thick skin. Years amongst the Bloodcast had not trained them for this, no one had readied them for the psychological terror that came from this.
From them. It was their fault, they realized in absolute dread as the fan cackled; unfurling itself with a thunderous THWACK that rang in Natalia's ears. The cursed familiar had been summoned, stealing away the shadow of their psyche and manifesting itself within this homage to the past. It fluttered about, like a demonic butterfly in the dark - swatting at the deranged knight as the night ran its course. They sat there, in forced silence and complete shock.
Who knew how long had passed before they finally hit back, but after the first blow landed more followed in rapid fire succession as Natalia weeped, screaming in a hysterical fit of panic and rage. Even then, as they tore into the fabric of the fabled fan it would mock them. Demean them. Destroy their sense of self. It was the final punch, light blooming within the tomb like a cherry blossom. Their hand was enveloped with lavender energy with the faintest of light and sparks giving warning to the the overwhelming force of arcane power that obliterated the fan and forced the door open - the sun's peak over the horizon giving way to day.
Natalia was blinded, and for a brief moment, thought this was the holy light of the Spirit - here to take them away at last. Yet, as their vision returned they saw the mess around them. Broken chunks of the tomb lay nearby, the fan was shattered to bits and bobs, and their hands were covered in small nicks and cuts. The fear of being seen was motivation enough to stuff the remains of the token into their coat pocket as they crept back to their home - numb.
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