Nyell sat in a lotus position, his index finger tapping on his thigh in a steady rhythm. It was early in the morning, and the sound echoed throughout the empty living room. Meanwhile, his mind wandered elsewhere, going back to last night. Thanks to Cloe leaving on her own, it had been easy to let Myur escape the tribe without being noticed. They managed to successfully send the fifth elder to Dangu without experiencing much trouble, unlike what Corriel had feared.
If Nyell was honest, it had been eerily smooth.
Even after Cloe met up back, nothing significant happened. Of course, Nyell kept the appearance and continued admonishing her whenever she started blabbing her mouth off, aware he still had to pretend to be worried until dawn. His acting wasn't perfect, but it wasn't bad, and Cloe didn't notice anything amiss.
Closing his eyes, Nyell couldn't help but remember the fifth elder's face as he walked past him to vanish into the forest. His mouth hung half-open as drool trickled down his chin, for Myur didn't bother to control the man's facial muscles. The thing, though, was that their eyes met, and Nyell could swear he had seen terror and despair unfolding in the elder's gaze. Even though no words were exchanged, he seemed to have pleaded for help. He appeared to cling to the hope that Nyell would grab him and take him back to his hut. It was a foolish, desperate hope that nevertheless stung Nyell's heart.
And what did Nyell do? Well, he averted his eyes.
Now, the night had passed, and it was time to reflect. Thinking back on his reaction, a bitter taste spread in his mouth, for he felt like a coward. He sent the elder to his death, and the least he could have done was to bear witness to his disappearance. It was almost as if guilt was gripping at his conscience for not owning up to his actions, even though the elders deserved a much more terrible fate than to be handed to Dangu. It was their just desert: what goes around comes around, as they say.
Sighing, Nyell pushed the musing aside and decided to focus on the current matter. He couldn't afford to waver. Never.
"I can't believe you went ahead and knocked out the guards surrounding the fifth elder's hut," Nyell threw a sharp glance at Layla and Lapis when they entered the living room, followed by Corriel, Myrven, and Isa. "They must have reported the incident to Burg already, which, in turn, should have confirmed his suspicion that people from the inside are helping out Dangu."
Layla blinked, not understanding what she had done wrong, while Lapis scratched his cheek. There was no denying that the warriors weren't stupid enough not to realize they had been hit by a physical being, whether they were able to see it or not. Their necks were hurting too much, and they had woken up with their faces plastered to the muddy ground. It was different from when the shaman jeopardized their memories. They were aware something happened last night, something out of the ordinary, for the being that had been evading them didn't leave a single clue behind for the past few months. It wasn't the usual pattern.
"I'm sorry," Lapis winced. "But I need to take a break from that spell…! Karen used an array to meddle with people's memories, while, in our case, I have to do it manually every night. It consumes a tremendous amount of spiritual energy and is very taxing mentally. I'm on the verge of collapsing here! I won't be of any use if I'm half-dead."
"I guess so," Nyell clicked his tongue, aware that only Lapis could guide Myur. Losing him wouldn't do them any good and would halt their plan. "Still, Burg now has leverage. I'm sure he can find a way to turn this information around to his advantage."
"I wouldn't worry so much about it if I were you," Myrven reassured with a gentle but conniving smile. "Whatever Burg does, he won't be able to stop Layla. He can round up everyone in the tribe, and no one will ever be able to notice her if she does not want to be found."
"How can you be so sure?"
"I can't go into details," Myrven glanced at Layla, who tilted her head, "but Layla's ability isn't easily detected. Cloe's instinct is terrifying, probably one of the best out there, but even so, it only allows her to feel that something is off. She can't pinpoint exactly where Layla and whoever she's concealing are or even if her instinct is being trustworthy. You would need a shaman of Allen's caliber or a being like myself to see through Layla's stealth."
"Just what is this ability of hers…?" Nyell mumbled. "Even when I knew she was beside me, my brain refused to accept this possibility. No matter how rational I tried to be, something seemed to overpower my ability to think and reason, pushing the idea that nothing was there. To say it felt creepy is an understatement. It's not just a matter of stealth but also disturbing conscious beings until confusion throws their minds into disarray. It makes you doubtful of your very own thoughts!"
"Like I said, I can't go into details."
"Why not?"
"Because I can't."
"Stop being unreasonable," Corriel ruffled his son's hair into a bird nest. "You should do well to remember that they're from another tribe. They are revealing many of their trump cards to us, even though the relationship between our tribes has always been strained. Stop questioning them and say thank you instead."
"It's not that I'm not grateful," Nyell grumped, pushing his father's naughty hand aside, "it's just that I don't like not knowing how Layla's ability works…"
"Actually," Lapis raised his hand, "I would also very much like to know."
"Wait, you don't know either?"
"Of course I don't. Not much is known about Allen's aides, except for Myrven being the tribe's God's familiar spirit. But even then, that's all we know. Our chief's entourage is shrouded in mystery, just as much as him."
"This is strange, you know?" Nyell looked at the shaman with some uncertainty. His father and his sister did the same. "It's your own darn chief and his aides! How come you know almost nothing about them? Wait, does it mean that you don't even know Allen's blood–"
A cough interrupted Nyell, who shut up immediately. He bore through Myrven's squinted, accusing eyes and didn't try to salvage his blunder. Everyone in the room had a brain and realized he was about to blurt out one of Allen's many secrets. Nyell didn't bother with them, contemplating something else altogether. Considering Myrven's reaction, it seemed like their chief's blood's healing proprieties weren't known to his people, and certainly for good reasons. His blood was priceless and worth fighting over, and greedy people existed everywhere. He had seen its regenerative power firsthand and understood how precious it was.
Thankfully, no one pushed the matter further and they pretended to have heard nothing, even Isa. As for Lapis, he knew better than digging up skeletons and courting death. So, instead, he smiled weakly, looking almost defeated.
"Well, what can we do about it?" he sighed, visibly resigned. "Our tribe is quite different from yours: our chief is not appointed by right of birth but by our God's will. In fact, it's very rare for the children of the previous chief to be chosen, and we actually never know who will be our next chief, for the God who oversees our tribe decides. It can be anybody, whatever their occupation and position is, although it's usually someone with strong shamanic power."
"Aren't you telling them too much?" Myrven cocked an eyebrow, ignoring the Black Moon tribe members' stunned faces.
"How so? Nyell is our chief's destined mate, so that much isn't problematic. I don't think Corriel and Isa will spread the word, either. And even if they did, who would believe them?"
"Point taken."
A silence befell the place as the words sank. It wasn't rare for a tribe to worship a particular god, as countless gods and myths existed, some more popular than others. People usually turned toward gods that upholded their beliefs and presented a few offerings throughout the years to gain their favors. Sometimes, a peculiar god was said to take a liking to a tribe and care for it, becoming the official God of the tribe. However, they never heard of a god meddling so much in a tribe's affairs. Mortals were interesting but not worth much of their time. Myrven's existence had already been a shock, and now this…
'The White Moon tribe sure holds a few secrets from the rest of the world, huh?' Nyell snickered to himself, realizing just how ignorant he was. He might regret his decision to follow Allen to his tribe one day, but what was said was said. He wasn't the kind to come back on his words.
"…And I guess not everyone is happy about who becomes your chief, huh?" Nyell scoffed after a while, thinking back on how the White Moon tribe members talked about their chief when they arrived at the Black Moon tribe. It had infuriated him beyond words, and it still pissed him off whenever he thought about it. However, now wasn't the time to debate the White Moon tribe's societal order. "Putting that aside for now, let me get things straight: Layla's ability is the real deal, and you're telling us to trust her, right?"
"That's pretty much it, yes," Myrven smiled.
"Alright then, let's plan our next course of action with that in mind."
They were almost there: their ultimate goal was at arms reach, and one last push was all they needed. Finally, they would set the record straight, and no more people would have to suffer due to the elders' twisted ways. Once they were gone, Dangu's rage would be appeased, and no more tribe members would vanish overnight. They wouldn't have to leave in fear of losing their loved ones or becoming the next victim.
After what, only the fallout from the elders' disappearance would be left to handle, but that was something his father had to worry about, not him.