Dark Tales From Dandelion

1

The Woman in White … Quint thought. The golden doors swung open to reveal a hall resembling a giant bowl with steps and desks that descended in a semicircle all the way down into a pit where a podium stood. From the door to the stage was about a quarter of a mile. Quint immediately felt waves of powerful emotion and coughed into his arm. No blood with this cough, and the black veins in his leg had receded somewhat since the Forever Forest. This had happened before, but the Thrast always came back worse than it had been before.

The smell of old paper in books, the excitement of learning new things, the dread of being late to class, the dreams he’d had of being naked in this room in front of the podium for all to see—and … The Woman.

The seats and desks were mostly occupied. The Woman was in the middle of a lecture. The hall was designed for carrying the vibrations of one’s voice, so the distance from the floor wasn’t an issue for the students—or Quint and his friends.

“—Thrummers’ shape-shifting is usually slower than phase-shifting—which is pretty instantaneous— depending on the ability of the thrummer. A faster and more efficient method for shape-shifting is using a Phase Mask, that is if you agree with supporting the phase-shifters who keep their tower going mainly by keeping people addicted to Roxy Milk. Another faster—though equally controversial—method of shape-shifting is the use of the transmogrifier gun. This is a personal choice, but considering what is used to make the guns, I urge you against this method,” the speaker said. She looks just as I remember her, Quint thought. She wore the same torn wedding dress that she always worn, every day. Her golden hair shone among the crowd of people with hair less brilliantly colored. Her oval face was beautiful, and seemingly no older than the last time Quint had seen her. But where is the sesnickie blade? She kept it on her hip at all times, even when she slept from what I heard.

Someone raised their hand.

“Soffel, I’ve requested that you all use the vibrations instead of raising your hands. Attune attentive curiosity and it will give everyone a signal that you are wanting them to listen to you,” The Woman said. Quint felt it like a tugging on his own curiosity as the student named Soffel attuned the correct vibration. Everyone’s heads turned toward the man. “Good, Soffel. Go ahead.”

“Um … what are the transmogrifiers made of?” Soffel asked.

“You don’t know?!? Everyone knows that!” Said a girl in the row of seats behind Soffel.

“Thank you Melanie. Not everyone knows it, actually. When a group of activists started protests in the streets of Harrantree and Cri and the cloud city, the Drakes started an entirely different campaign for selling them, concealing the origin of the guns as much as possible from the past two generations. The knowledge is not as common as it once was. The Drakes—the inventors of the device—are the main manufacturers of transmogrifiers and their cartridges. Of course there are generic ripoffs, others who go out hunting Rakshasas in hopes of riding the coattails of the Drakes’ success. The Drakes, of course, started to harvest the Rakshasas after their one hundred years spent as slaves to them. Their namesake comes from Drake who brought his people out of oppression two-thousand years ago with the aid of sesnickie who also were enslaved by the Rakshasas.

“The sesnickie donated their bones and teeth for the seven-shooter guns invented by Drake himself. They used these seven-shooters to fight off the Rakshasas, the vibration repressing bullets cutting the Rakshasas off from their main source of power. So the Drakes have hunted the Rakshasas ever since, harvesting them in their little tower. The entire transmogrifier gun is made of Rakshasas. The cartridges have fluid taken from the pineal gland of the Rakshasas before death. The Rakshasas shamelessly allow their empty ones to use these abominable weapons as well. I wouldn’t doubt it if they make the weapons themselves in their laboratory on Lavender,” The Woman answered, all very calmly and matter-of-fact.

Another student attuned the attentive curiosity vibration.

“Yes, Alsey?”

“You said the guns were … controversial?” Alsey asked.

“Yes. And you’ll notice that they are not allowed inside of The Tower of Tones,” Said The Woman.

Politics … thought Quint. Lay it on us.

“It’s not known to all. They don’t exactly label the guns, but I have no problem sharing the information with my students, because I feel they deserve to know what is being made of their own flesh.” A hush ran through the crowd. Quint knew The Woman rarely showed such emotions even in this slightest of ways unless she was quite upset. Quint assumed she meant because the Rakshasas were similar to thrummers—she had made this connection in the past—and that this is why it was wrong to use them. Quint never quite agreed; the Rakshasas terrorized everyone and specifically had oppressed the Drakes for years. Why shouldn’t they be put down? At least those that continued to hurt others … And after being put down, why not use the wretched things to make weapons that could possibly be used for defending oneself against the very things from which the guns were made. Quint always supported the Drakes in this and this is where he parted ways with The Woman in shared beliefs.

“You mean because the Rakshasas are similar to vibrationalists?” Alsey said.

“No. Because the vibrationalists are Rakshasas,” The Woman said, and she seemed to be staring directly at Quint and his group.

What the fuck is she talking—

“ALI!” Vermilion screamed to Quint’s right. Wings sprouted from behind The Woman in White’s back and she seemed to glow with a pure white light.

2

Ali … it’s her. I know it. This is where she’s been? That’s exactly what she would say back in Karad-Dürn after we found out about the way the transmogrifiers are made. She never told me she was one of them. She never told me she could attune the vibrations. She just left us. I thought she’d died. She left after that winged creature did this to Pru … That winged creature with the same golden colored hair ….

“That is the end of the lecture for today, everyone. There are some old colleagues here to see me and I really must have a word with them,” Ali said.

The hall was filled with the noise of shuffling papers and excited talking. Vermilion had a feeling this was not the way that most lectures ended. People walked past the group, most of them staring uncomfortably at Fiona and Vermilion. The subject matter of the lecture didn’t help their case much.

When all the students had left the hall but The Woman and Quint’s group, Vermilion and the others headed down the steps to the pit where Ali had been lecturing from. Seeing her up close confirmed her identity. It was Ali, his childhood sweetheart, his wife, Prudance’s mother, and—he now realized—the Rakshasa that had changed their little girl into a deformed creature. He would never have thought that Ali was capable of such evil as to do what that Rakshasa had done to Prudance that day, that is why he hadn’t known it was her … he’d never seen her wings before. Now that the wings were out with the hair, he was certain. Vermilion couldn’t help himself, he began shaking with anger, his eyes filling with tears. He noticed through the fog of his own tears that even though her expression remained the same, she too was crying. His beautiful wife, with bat-like angel’s wings.

“How—just—why, Ali? Why?” Vermilion asked through a thick throat.

“You two … know each other?” Fiona asked.

Vermilion didn’t respond to Fiona. His eyes were locked with Ali’s.

“I did—what I had to do, Vermilion. At the time, it’s what I had to do,” Ali said, her eyes flicking to Fiona then back to Vermilion.

“You had to turn our daughter into a beast?” Vermilion asked, he could feel his face twisting as his anger rose. “You had to leave me, without a single word? Leave me to take care of her by myself? Leave her … without a mother. Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t clip those wings with my guns right now,” Vermilion said.

Ali just stared at him with tears in her eyes.

“I have no good reason why you shouldn’t. I won’t stop you if that’s what you have to do, Vermilion,” Ali said. Vermilion drew a seven-shooter and put it to The Woman’s head. His sleeve was torn on this arm, exposing the bloody gash from the tree that had hit him in the Forever Forest. Ali shuddered. “We’ve been here before, haven’t we?”

“Don’t. You don’t get to bring that up now,” Vermilion said, shaking.

“Um, before you kill her, Vermilion—which I’d rather you just didn’t do—could you look at Carter here, Mother? Something is not right with him, and hasn’t been for a while. He called Rakshasas down on us in the Forever Forest … ” Quint said.

“So that is why my Forest is nothing but a crater now. One of my old students forgot some of the tricks I taught him,” The Woman in White said.

“Two … students, Mother. Valucias was with us. He’s … gone now,” Quint said.

“I see,” Ali said, her face somehow becoming more sad and maybe even a bit more aged. “So if this man called Rakshasas—I assume you mean those that associate themselves with the Hate?—why have you brought him here into my tower? Is he ready to reform so soon?”

“He has been poisoned. It’s a mantra scramble bug,” Quint said. “I don’t know how much is him and how much is the bug.”

The Woman in White’s eyes widened.

“That’s not even the worst. A member of the Hate dressed like Leere turned this one’s brother,” Quint pointed to Carter, “into the mantra scramble bug. He may still be alive in there, but we didn’t want to cause any damage to either one of them by removing the bug. We were hoping you could help,” Quint said.

“I may yet. But first I believe Vermilion had some more words for me,” Ali said, and she turned her eyes to Vermilion.

“And if he calls Rakshasas again?” Quint asked.

“He won’t dare here. There are too many vibrationalists and I am here. I doubt there are any Rakshasas fool enough to trifle with me in my own tower where I am most powerful. I’m sorry Vermilion. Please continue,” Ali said. It was as if the gun didn’t exist. Either she was confident he wouldn’t pull the trigger, or didn’t care if he did.

Vermilion stared at her for a moment, gathering his thoughts back up after the interruption. He was blank for a moment, then went on.

“This was part of earning my Rocco class two badge, Ali. I was gonna find a way to heal Pru, and then avenge her. I would never have thought … I would never have guessed it was you. The golden hair didn’t mean anything to me. What I saw was a faceless monster. Bright as sunlight skin and long golden hair. Black wings. I shot at you,” Vermilion looked down at his shaking hand holding the gun to her head, “I would have killed you!”

“Sometimes, I wished you would have, Vermilion. When I still wore my sword, I wished that often,” Ali said. When she still wore her sword?

Vermilion looked away, then to Fiona. She had a compassionate expression on her face and she nodded to him. “You come see us, Vermilion,” Fiona said, calling back to their conversation when she had taken off her cloak and showed Vermilion how to make a sling for Prudance. This gave him some confidence. He wiped his eyes and turned back to look at Ali, The Woman in White.

“Why did you do this to her?” He asked in a hushed tone of utter defeat.

“Do you remember me talking about my parents much?” Ali said.

“Not really. You avoided the subject as much as possible. I’d start to ask and you would shut down.”

“Right. I kept it from you. I kept it from anyone I could so that I could pretend I didn’t even know what happened. I just would not go there—in my mind, or with others. I lived with my foster parents and threw myself into the Rocco Way as soon as I was old enough.”

“What does this have to do with—”

“Please, Vermilion. Let me finish.”

“You don’t really have the right to be asking—”

“Vermilion, please,” Quint said.

“Fine. Go on,” Vermilion said.

“My mom was … sick a lot. My dad worked at the little tower, but I didn’t find out about the Rakshasas and vibrationalists being the same things until later. My mother was a Rakshasa. She and my father actually met when my dad was hunting Rakshasas for … materials at the little tower. Their names were Jekken and Diana Burris, and they were very much in love,” Ali said, and she retracted her wings. They slid back into her back as if nothing had ever been there, but Vermilion suspected there would be rips in the material of the shirt. “Mom would get headaches—bad ones—sometimes for days. She would be bedridden, and my dad would have to take me with him to work. It started to get worse there at the end; she wouldn’t remember things, something would be broken, like all of the lamps in her room, and she’d wake up and wonder what had happened. We had no idea why this was happening and we’d never seen it until one day when my dad was off work and I was off of school. Mom had been in bed for a couple of months. She thought she could handle coming to the table to eat dinner with us. She made it to the table and the candles we’d lit in the room were too bright, so we took her back into her room to rest. After that the flames from the candle exploded. I wasn’t at the table, but dad was. He got burned pretty badly, and one of his eyes was oozing out of the socket.

“He picked me up, because the explosions were not stopping, and covered me with his body on the kitchen floor, but a piece of wood hit me in the face as we made our way to the kitchen. I was knocked unconscious. That piece of wood went straight through my daddy’s chest,” she choked on these last words. Ali took a moment before she gained enough of her voice back to talk, then went on: “I could feel her. Before the accident. I could feel her attuning the vibrations. They were always there when she was sick. If I would have said something … maybe things would have been different. I think dad knew too … knew that it was because she was a vibrationalist, that is, but he was afraid to tell anyone the specifics. What if they saw her wings? What if they found out she was one of them? Even if you’re not a Rakshasa in Karad-Dürn, though, if you can attune the Inner Vibrations, you are not exactly welcomed with open arms. From what the inspectors said, my mom threw herself on top of her husband, impaling herself on the same piece of wood that had killed him. No-one bothered trying to figure out why my mother’s heart had been ripped out of her chest and thrown across the floor. They chalked it up to the piece of wood impaling both my mom and my dad. They said it had pushed her heart out. I now know better. I now know even the mantrum she used to rip her own heart out.”

Fiona fidgeted slightly beside Vermilion. The Woman in White’s eyes flicked momentarily to study Fiona, then back to Vermilion.

“I believe she thought I was dead. I choose to believe that. I also believe that she was very ill, and happily took her own life after the grief of knowing she’d taken her husband’s. As I grew older I began to have gaps in time. I’d wake up in strange places, unaware of what had happened. It was mild at first, but by the time we had Prudance, Vermilion … ” Ali paused to gain her composure again. “It was happening so often that I knew it wouldn’t end well. For anyone. I had to leave. And at the time, I believed the best thing I could do for Prudance was find a way to make certain she wouldn’t be able to hurt herself or others in the same way. I went to the Lady Fae, The Treespeaker that lives on the Plains of Petunia and appears wearing blue, followed by a group of white moths. Her house moves in much the same way as yours, Quint. It’s very difficult to find her, but I did. I stripped naked on the plain and let my wings spread far. I called down fire and lightning, using every ounce of power I could muster without going into a blackout. She appeared soon after and took me in. She taught me a binding mantrum that could assist her in shifting Prudance into a different shape, a dormant shape that wouldn’t be able to attune the vibrations. What she wanted in return were my memories and my body. I paid that price, and after I turned Prudance into what she is now, I fled and forgot … everything,” Ali exhaled.

“So you ran?” Vermilion asked.

“I ran,” Ali said.

“You didn’t even give her the chance to live. You took it away from her because you couldn’t bear it. It wasn’t for her! It was for you!” Vermilion spat at her feet.

“Vermilion,” Fiona said.

“No! I think she needs to know,” Vermilion said. “How her daughter almost drowns in her own spittle on a nightly basis. How her daughter can’t even focus in on my eyes when I look at her. How she can’t walk, run or play. She just sits here, drooling, cooing, shitting and puking so that way Ali Cinnabar—or is it Burris again?—can have a clean conscious and know that she won’t have a disaster running around somewhere hurting people. IF YOU DIDN’T WANT TO HAVE A BABY, YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE LET MY COCK INSIDE OF YOU, YOU VOIDLESS WHORE! BREAKING WOODEN SPOON OVER HER BACKSIDE AS IF SHE KNEW BETTER! SHE WAS A CHILD, ALI!”

“NOW THAT IS ENOUGH!” Quint bellowed in Seru. The air grew dark, but it didn’t affect Vermilion as much as usual.

“No, Quint, really it’s fine. He … has a right,” Ali said, and she walked toward Vermilion very slowly.

“No-one has that right, not even the Voids-damned King of the Cloud Tower,” Quint mumbled.

“I can heal her, Vermilion. I’d like to. If you’d let me,” Ali said.

Vermilion nodded his head to the side where Fiona stood. “Fiona’s supposed to heal her, not you. Pip Fished it, and a Fishing is never wrong.”

Ali turned to Fiona then, and the world became thick and dark.

3

As Ali looked at her, something strange happened to Fiona’s vision—she could still see her friends, but their faces were obscured and difficult to imagine—to remember, even. Ali’s eyes were black circles, her hair dark brown now, like Fiona’s. Any light that surrounded them was misty and ethereal. Fiona felt like she was in a dream. It was hard to breathe, and she panted, but could not take her eyes from those black holes in The Woman’s face. Black holes surrounded by rings of red hives, and—as Fiona looked down—she saw black veins running through the woman’s exposed arms up to her neck.

“Depth of a tree’s roots. Height of a mountain’s peak. Fire in the belly of the beast. White as the sesnickie’s teeth,” said the voice of The Woman In White, an echo, a chaos choir, layered as if multiple voices were speaking at once. She wasn’t speaking Seru, this was different. This had a dispassionate severity to it—like what was being said was quite important, yet the conveyor of that information wasn’t concerned with it being received one way or the other.

“I’m … sorry?” Fiona said. Ali just smiled at her and took another step toward Vermilion.

“Wait, wha—what are you doing, Ali?” Vermilion asked, a bit shaken from the strange fog they’d just entered.

“I just want to make her better, Vermilion. I want to fix her for you, then you won’t have to see me again,” Ali said. The blackened veins were running through her face as well now, and the red hives around her eyes spread like tendrils to the back of her skull.

Vermilion began turning away, looking unsure and confused. He said: “No, I don’t think you should, Ali. I—I was expecting something else, but—”

“GIVE HER TO ME NOW,” Ali said, this time in Seru. The wave of power coming from her voice hit Fiona like a physical force, as if she had again been tackled by a sesnickie. She sat down on the floor. Vermilion lowered his gun and his eyes. Ali’s black veins returned to their original blue color. Fiona felt a compulsion to help The Woman do this task. Fiona got up and walked to Vermilion with legs that were not her own, and unslung Prudance from Vermilion’s chest. Vermilion turned to Fiona, who smiled and patted Vermilion on the cheek.

“All will be well with The Mother,” Fiona said with words that weren’t hers either.

“Fiona, what are you—” Vermilion asked, bewildered and obviously inebriated by the words.

“I’m going to heal her. Like Pip said,” Fiona said.

“Is this the way it happened, Pip?” Vermilion asked Pip noncommittally.

“I have no way of knowing how or where or why— just the what, Vermilion,” Pip answered inside of everyone’s heads. The sesnickie had their eyes closed, and was moving their head back and forth gently as if a kind of pleasant groove had come over them.

“This may be the only way for you, Vermilion. I’d say you actually got lucky,” Quint said, smiling, looking younger and less worry-worn.

Fiona took the sling the rest of the way off of Vermilion and carried the deformed baby-form of Prudance over to the flat surface of the podium. Fiona laid Prudance down on the podium, and stood above her, Ali joining her on the opposite side.

Fa-Ren-bishdu

Ali chanted, she repeated it over and over. Fiona began chanting as well. They held hands and bowed their heads over Prudance.

4

Ali could feel the power of the mantrum surging through her as she forgave her daughter the sickness she shared with her mother and grandmother. She forgave herself the sickness—the broken wooden spoons, and even the abandoning of her responsibilities. My abandoning of the fight against the Necrolore to search for more power. It was alright that it existed; it was alright that she existed. She had forgiven herself and even had changed, putting her sword away to seek a life of healing and not of fighting for power. THE LOW SELF would not be stopped by a blade—there was another way: the only way.

Everything had had its place in the world except for this, but now even this thing that Ali had thought to be so vile and terrifying—the neglect and abuse of her daughter—was accepted as part of ‘what is’. It was forgiven. She vibrated the Highest Vibration of forgiveness as she looked up to stare into the eyes of the other woman. The other me, she thought. I forgive you. Hers was compounded with the woman who stood across from her chanting the same mantrum, attuning the same vibrations. There was nothing but the mantrum, the vibration and the child. Ali broke the binding that had been put on Prudance by Lady Fae and herself all those years ago. It was like a very hard rock surrounding the pineal gland and she had to vibrate into it with the mantrum, while also splitting herself to vibrate into Prudance’s lungs to incite a breathing technique, using all of her power—and Fiona’s—to do so. As Ali vibrated into the pineal gland, Prudance breathed in and then held it for as long as her lungs would allow, then both would release. Ali found herself breathing in and holding at the same rate that Prudance was even though this was not necessary for the process.

Prudance remained unconscious and began to take the shape of a golden haired little girl instead of the misshapen thing she’d been. Her limbs, body and head grew, and her face became beautiful, the nose turning up slightly and the lashes growing long. Her daughter was back. Prudance lay awkwardly on the podium now, her eyes closed, the square surface of the podium only big enough to hold her back. Fiona and Ali together lifted her up with their arms and laid her down on the ground, covering her up with the cloak as they did.

Prudance looked to be about six years old. She is so big now, Ali thought as she looked to the woman who had stood across from her during this. Before they had started, this woman who called herself Fiona had had dark brown hair and brown eyes. Fiona now looked down at Prudance with golden hair and blue, tear-filled eyes. The wings were slowly retracting into her body through the slits in her clothing as she bent over Prudance. Ali looked down at Prudance and smiled. She didn’t think she’d ever felt more happy or free in her entire life. The final piece she needed to forgive, finally. She looked at Prudance, who she’d forgiven and then she looked over at herself who she’d also forgiven. It looked like the self across from her had also forgiven herself, at least in some way. They could exist, regardless of the trouble they may cause, they deserved the chance to live. Ali looked up at the ceiling in exultation, tears of grace streaming down her cheeks.

5

Fiona looked at her daughter. As soon as she’d laid eyes on the face of her daughter, the spell of Lady Fae had been broken. Between the forgiveness mantrum and the recognition of that beautiful, innocent face, Fiona had realized the truth. She was Ali. She was Vermilion’s wife. She … was Prudance’s mother.

Fiona heard something then, a squishy, crunchy noise, and looked up to see the face of the self she had forgiven, and the face looked … concerned. Fiona looked down from the face to see a large sesnickie tooth sticking through the left side of the Woman in White’s chest. Blood dripped from Ali’s mouth onto Prudance’s face. Ali fell to the side, or no—she was pushed to the side, by Carter as he pulled the sesnickie tooth free of the Woman In White’s chest. He had stabbed her in the back, through her heart, with a sesnickie tooth. Fiona screamed, and immediately felt the effects of The Woman’s vibrations on the valley collapse. The powerful thrumming here was no longer. Which means people will be able to Move here now by sesnickie, or fly in from above, regardless of whether they were called or not. I am her, but … I have no idea how she did all this—held all of these Veils together. She is me, but—a different version. From the future? Like Leslie? Did she use the Eraser?

“Pip,” Ali gasped. She was fading, and fast, Fiona could see the light leaving her eyes, but she pushed the rest out in two gurgling breaths. “Have you tried … looking in a mirror?” Her last breath. Pip was lying on the floor in a pool of blood, one of his fangs missing. The sesnickie put a hand over their face as if this comment from the Woman in White had shamed them. What in the Void?

“Fa-ketskt-ma bishdu,” Carter said. The Rakshasa calling mantrum.

Leere—or, rather, the Leere impersonator—appeared from nowhere, his goat horns ominous and his face terrible. He was so tall, his crimson cloak somehow making him seem even larger than he was. Vermilion shot like a madman. Quint had been stabbed by the tooth as well while Fiona and Ali had been distracted, no doubt he still suffered from the lingering vibrational repressing powers of the sesnickie tooth—even after it left the body, a thrummer would still be unable to attune the vibrations for about five tiks; he still tried to speak Seru at the Lord of the Hate, but failed. Fiona tried thrumming.

NO

She heard it in her head as the most terrifying voice she could imagine hearing spoken by someone. She was cut off from the vibrations somehow. She struggled and she tried to move toward the goat-skulled figure and Carter who stood right in front of her, but she was unable to move. Leere grabbed Carter and Prudance, then Moved from the room as if he were a sesnickie, taking both of them with him. Fiona’s daughter … Carter … gone.