Chapter 14: No ward for Loneliness

Qusheab was all alone in the cottage of the three sisters. It wasn’t that hard of a task, repairing the wards of the cottage. This was mainly because traces of the wards still lingered in the flows, and the form of the cottage, frayed patterns. In a few cases all Qusheab had to do was fix a little bit of carving.

Fixing the wards wasn’t the main problem. The main problem was that Qusheab was alone. Ever since the rest of the Dauftima pride had fallen, Qusheab had been with her sisters. It did not sit well with her being parted from them, especially when there was probably some malevolent foe plotting against them.

Leaning back from a shattered statue, Qusheab pulled out the charm that she and her sisters had recently made. She could feel her sisters presences through it. Reluctantly placing it back under her hat, she got back to repairing the wards.

The wards that looked like they had been savaged by a frenzied beast, slashed, clawed and gnawed. A thought crossed Qusheab’s mind, was this really all the damage that had been done? Were the wards the only things targeted? The brutality of the damage did look like the kind of thing to come from rational action…

…

Recarving symbols and statues was reaching its limits. Qusheab pondered how to finish restoring the wards of the cottage. She had stuffed herself into a crevice to get a protective statue, but needing to find a solution, she returned to the brewing hall of the cottage. Her eyes roved over all the potions, pots and cauldrons. There had to be something of use. Her eyes stopped at the giant catshead cauldron. The brew.

That which they had entered the fallen realm to brew. Something that could only be made within a loop. Qusheab almost coughed up blood as she tried to remember what the brew actually was. That knowledge that was one of the memories that was damaged. Steadying herself and focusing her mind, Qusheab pushed the question from her mind. It was too dangerous to consider it currently.

She had however been given an idea of how to patch up the wards.

The brew was a scintillating liquid, so much so that the true colour of it was hard to see, but… it was the rim of bubbles, the edge of hope and the blood of rebellion. Qusheab had left a bone ladle stirring around of its own accord inside the cauldron while she had been trying to fix the wards.

Now she grabbed the ladle. The brew was born of the loop, with the steam from it, she would resist the loop, she would revitalize the wards of the cottage!

[Apologies for the small update]