"⩯T Ѧ⍥T!"
Mr. Edward suddenly heard a piercing wail Before the cries of anguish could fully subside, forcing him to turn his head, his heart missing a beat as he watched a green-eyed, frantic-looking woman break through the crowd.
She appeared to be rushing towards him, mind and body disregarding everything else, whilst on her face was a maelstrom of emotion so vividly displayed that Mr. Edward fancied that it steamed from no other source than blood ties.
Her features were a haunting blend of grace and abject despair.
Her green eyes, aglow with a strange fervor, bore into the figure of the boy no, the frail shadow of the man-child who knelt before the Chief.
She rushed forward, her silken robes trailing, wet, dim, ruined by the damp and murky decay of the place that she apparently called home.
Her appearance reminded of a line he had read from the vin nocturne in Italy:
Curse those who called this backwater home, and curse all who do not and can not hear me, save for this woman with a semblance of empathy, for what is a man without the man who is human?
"⩯T Ѧ⍥T!"
She cried, tenderly in a sibilant unknown language, her voice trembling with an agony that transcended mortal suffering.
Yet, before she could reach him, a phalanx of blue-eyed men surged forth, their movements cruel and mechanical, like predators enacting a ritual of blood.
"ѦԐᏵ⍥ռԐ Ȟ⩃𐑮ᒻ⍥ጥ!" One of them hissed, his voice laden with venom and disdain which suggested, even in an encrypted tongue, the presence of malicious slander.
With a force that belied their human guise, they struck her to the ground, her weak frame crumpling as though she were a mere doll discarded by some capricious god.
Blows rained down upon her with ferocity, and with each strike, Mr. Edward felt his heart bleed in a cocktail of powerlessness and hatred, but he did not know the woman, the feeling wholly steeming from what Mr. Edward could only think to be some vestigial instinct, or remnant soul in his stolen body.
Additionally, what Mr. Edward assumed to be more slander responded in the ears of all present.
"⩤𐑮ԐጥጰȞԐꓓ ⩤Ȟ⍥𐑮Ԑ! T⍥ņ ꓓ⩃𐑮Ԑ /ռጥԐ𐑮įԐ𐑮Ԑ!" their voices rose, the blue eyed men that is, their eyes glittering with mockery and disdain.
The Chief, observing this display of barbarism, raised a single hand, his gesture imbued with an unearthly authority that immediately froze the room in place.
The blue-eyed men halted, their expressions shifting to one of restrained fury, as though a primal force had bound them against their will.
"ϞȞԐ /Ϟ Ϟጥ/ᒻᒻ ⍥ռԐ ⍥į ⩯/ռԐ." The Chief intoned rather lazily, his voice reverberating like the tolling of an ancient bell but with hints of indifference.
There was a cold finality to his words, a proclamation from a being who was more than man, less than god, and infinitely unknowable.
"ᒻԐጥ ȞԐ𐑮 ϞԐԐ ȞԐ𐑮 Ϟ⍥ռ ⍥ռԐ ᒻ⩃Ϟጥጥ/⩯Ԑ."
The men reluctantly stepped aside, their faces twisted in silent rage, whilst the woman crawled toward the boy.
Her hands were trembling as they reached for his blistered face, her touch as tender as the first breath of dawn in this fate-forsaken world.
Tears streaked her cheeks, glistening like spectral dew. "⩯T Ѧ⍥T!" she whispered, her voice breaking, her breath like a rose.
Although Mr. Edward did not know what she spoke of, he was sure of it now.
Such pain at his plight, the unending love in her eyes, and the ineluctable bond that connected them both.
Such feeling could be perceived by anyone else but not like this; no, this was different, like a river, endlessly flowing and carving paths through even the hardest of stones, this was the affection of a mother.
The pain was unbearable, excruciatingly so, but this woman just the sight of her offered comfort.
It was a fleeting moment of peace.
Mr. Edward found that the unknown rage in his heart was quelled by her, and as she embraced him tightly whilst gently caressing his burnt face, he felt his consciousness start to slip away but struggled to retain it.
Before any solace could be exchanged, the Foreign Elder rose to his feet, his green eyes gleaming with an unnatural fire that seemed to devour the shadows around him.
"ጥȞ⩃ጥ ⩤⍥⩯⩃ռ," He spat, his venomous words reverberating with loathing as he added.
"ጥȞ⩃ጥ ⩤⍥⩯⩃ռ / ⩤⩃ռጥ ȞԐ𐑮.
ϞȞԐ ѦԐᒻ⍥ռᏵϞ ጥ⍥ ⍥ņ𐑮 Ѧᒻ⍥⍥ꓓᒻ/ռԐ ⍥ņ𐑮 ᒻ/ռԐ⩃ᏵԐ. ȞԐ𐑮 ѦԐ⩃ņጥT /Ϟ ņռթ⩃𐑮⩃ᒻᒻԐꓓ ጥȞ⍥ņᏵȞ ȞԐ𐑮 ⩤⍥𐑮ጥȞ /Ϟ ᒻ/⩯/ጥԐꓓ ϞȞԐ /Ϟ Ϟņįį/ጰ/Ԑռጥ ጥ⍥ թᒻԐ⩃Ϟņ𐑮Ԑ ⩯T ⩯Ԑռ.
𐑮Ԑጥņ𐑮ռ ȞԐ𐑮 ጥ⍥ ņϞ ⩃ռꓓ / ϞȞ⩃ᒻᒻ į⍥𐑮ᏵԐጥ ጥȞԐ ꓓԐ⩃ጥȞ ⍥į ⩯T ꓓ⩃ņᏵȞጥԐ𐑮."
Mr. Edward didn't need to know the words to recognize the demand. The way the man's hand gestured toward his mother and the possessiveness in his glare said it all: he believed she was his.
A collective gasp rippled through the assembly, as though the very walls recoiled at the audacity of his demand, the brazen affront tickling much of Mr. Edward's fancy.
The Chief's expression darkened, his visage an inscrutable mask of fury and calculation.
It was profoundly still, and for a moment, it seemed the air itself grew heavy, imbued with a tension that pressed against the souls of all who bore witness.
The Chief, savoring the tension finally spoke, his words slow and deliberate, as if each syllable carried the weight of eons, syllables that remained unattainable to Mr. Edward as he said. "٧Ԑ𐑮T ⩤Ԑᒻᒻ"
Though Mr. Edward could not discern the words, he found the Chief's tone devoid of emotion, yet brimming with a menace that transcended mortal comprehension as he continued:
"ጥ⩃&Ԑ ȞԐ𐑮, ⩃ռꓓ ᒻԐጥ ጥȞԐ ⩯⩃ጥጥԐ𐑮 ⍥į T⍥ņ𐑮 ٧⍥/ꓓ ϞȞ⩃𐑮ꓓ ѦԐ ᒻ⩃/ꓓ ጥ⍥ 𐑮ԐϞጥ ϞȞԐ ⩤⩃Ϟ ⍥𐑮/Ᏽ/ռ⩃ᒻᒻT ⩃ ጰ⍥ռጰņѦ/ռԐ / թņ𐑮ጰȞ⩃ϞԐꓓ į𐑮⍥⩯ T⍥ņ ⩃įጥԐ𐑮 ⩃ᒻᒻ Ѧņጥ ȞԐԐꓓ ጥȞ/Ϟ ⩤⩃𐑮ռ/ռᏵ ϞȞ⍥ņᒻꓓ T⍥ņ ѦԐጥ𐑮⩃T ጥȞԐ ጥԐ𐑮⩯Ϟ ⍥į ጥȞ/Ϟ Ԑ𐊐ጰȞ⩃ռᏵԐ ռ⍥ጥ Ԑ٧Ԑռ ጥȞԐ Ᏽ⍥ꓓϞ T⍥ņ ⩤⍥𐑮ϞȞ/թ ⩤/ᒻᒻ ϞȞ/Ԑᒻꓓ T⍥ņ į𐑮⍥⩯ ⩯T ⩤𐑮⩃ጥȞ ⩃Ϟ T⍥ņ &ռ⍥⩤ ጥȞԐ ᒻ/&ԐϞ T⍥ņ Ȟ⩃٧Ԑ ռ⍥ጥ ጥȞԐ ⩯⩃ጥ𐑮⩃T ⍥𐑮 թ⍥⩤𐑮 ጥ⍥ ϞթԐ⩃& ⩤/ጥȞ ⩯Ԑ ⍥ռ ጰ⍥⩯⩯⍥ռ Ᏽ𐑮⍥ņռꓓ /ጥ /Ϟ ⩃ᒻᒻ ѦԐጰ⩃ņϞԐ /ጥ /Ϟ Ȟ/Ϟ ⩤/ᒻᒻ."
The Foreign Elder smiled a ghastly grin that bared too many teeth and gestured for his men to claim the woman.
She screamed as they dragged her away, her cries a terrible symphony that echoed endlessly in the minds of all who heard it.
At that moment, Mr. Edward, despite his agony, rage, and hatred, could do no more than stare whilst she was pried from his fingertips, his mind finally giving in to the overwhelming pain, granting him a much due relief as the world faded to a blackened dreamscape.
But even within his dreams, it appeared that he would never be able to escape the palpable blackness that haunted him.